Page 51 of Baking Battles

His whole body is shivering with exhaustion when he finally manages to get her into bed, without her waking up and screaming in his face. She’s overtired and emotional, and probably drained from both her parents being pathetically unstable. He needs to get himself under control again, and he honestly needs to sit down and talk to Sara about not being overdramatic around Emi. Not buying fucking designer clothes they can’t really afford. Twice. And because he knows how she gets, she panic-buys shite when she’s upset, and it’s obvious that right now it’s upsetting their daughter.

Not that Mattias is any better, being all snappy and irritated when he full-well knows that it’s just because he needs Christopher. And all those promises he has made himself about not getting into another relationship and never depending on another person again? Well that was all lies. LIES LIESLIES. He almost wants to scream at himself as he steps into the shower and let’s his hand longingly trace over the small bottle of shower gel that Christopher has obviously found a home for in his shower. He opens the lid, feeling a tiny pang of guilt for touching it in the first place, but whatever. He sniffs it carefully, letting the scent overwhelm him. It’s strong and soft and perfect. It smells like Christopher and his whole body seems to relax with relief.

His hands seem to find a life of their own, slowly stroking up and down his chest, his fingers pinching his nipples as they move past, then his fingertips slowly rub the dark area around his hardened buds, giving himself goosebumps with pleasure whilst the hot water sloshes over his skin.

He rarely does this, especially when Emi’s around, but today has been a mess and he just needs to give himself something. A little break.

He should probably have eaten. He can feel his blood sugar crashing, as he briefly tries to remember what he ate for lunch, as his hand finds his balls, slowly fondling them in the palm of his hand as his other hand finds his lips, just tracing the opening of his mouth. He licks his own fingers, making the tips as wet as he can before moving his other hand to slowly stroke his cock. Soft, yet firm movements over the crown, moving his foreskin up and down with little twists, just the way he likes it. Just the way Christopher does it. Because Christopher knows how to make Mattias hard, and that is a marvellous thought in itself. Christopher’s voice on loop in Mattias’s head, whispering little words of dirty promises, and Mattias’s wet fingers snake behind his back, slowly rubbing against his hole. He’s never done this on his own. Never contemplated sticking anything up his arse, but knowing what he knows now, he’s not sure he could make himself come without something probing his insides.

The first finger slowly makes itself a warm snug little home in his hole and he squirms with the awkward angle of trying to make this work, whilst his other hand rhythmically pumps his own cock to the sound of the water splashing the tiles around his feet. He hopes Emi is still asleep. He hopes Christopher is coming home. He hopes he can make this work. He hopes he can find a way of not being so nervous. He loves this. He loves sex. He needs. Fuck he needs so fucking much!

“Fuck me.” His mouth whispers. “Fuck me hard.”

It’s nothing like the feeling of having Christopher inside him, nothing like being filled up, feeling so full that he struggles to breathe. It’s a weird sensation, the pain dancing through his nerve endings, fighting the urge to push out the intrusion, wanting to get away yet almost panicking trying to get closer. His hand flies over his length, the water adding to the feel of his hole softening under the onslaught of his fingers. He can’t reach the good bit, the little gland that makes his head explode, but he can feel it building. The tingling and warmth in his stomach and he closes his eyes and lets his mouth fall open, water sloshing randomly over his face as he lets himself go. His orgasm crashes into him, making his feet stumble backwards until the glass screen creaks unnervingly under the weight of his body, his hand still stroking his skin through the last throes of coming, white stripes of spunk instantly disappearing down the drain, blended into nothing with the water.

He should feel guilty. He should be shuddering with nervous fear. He has a boyfriend and he shouldn't need to wank. Should he? Or maybe he should. He wonders if Christopher wanks, if he needs it despite getting some with Mattias. He wonders if there is someone else Christopher thinks about when he makes himself come on his own.

His face is flushed. Well, the little he can make out of himself in the steamed-up mirror. He doesn’t really want to look at himself right now, wiping his fingers clean on the towel. Then washing them thoroughly in the sink, with soap, and throwing the towel in the laundry basket. Honestly, he just had his fingers up his own arse, and then wiped them on the towel? He’s fucking disgusting. Well not really. He’s liked it. His cock has liked it. So what? If he likes it and it makes him come, then, whatever.

There’s a nervous giggle spilling out of his mouth as he walks around the apartment, stark naked, picking up random pieces of clothing and trying to gather his thoughts. He checks on Emi, who is snoring like a trucker, thinking maybe he should try to brush her teeth in her sleep, but the sheer thought of her waking up and throwing herself into another Uncle-Clistopler-infused tantrum makes him shiver.

Instead he just stands there, stark naked and wonders what the hell he used to do with himself in the evenings before he met Christopher. Before he had someone who came home and practically kidnapped the spare side of his bed and moved his wankfest-inducing shower gel into the bathroom and gave Mattias all these ideas of being normal. Of being one of those people who likes sex. One of those people who wank in the shower and hope that their gorgeous inhumanely wonderful beast of a boyfriend who has a cock that he likes to fuck Mattias with, would hurry the fuck up and come home so Mattias can feel human again.

“I miss you.” He whispers into thin air.

He hopes Christopher misses him too.

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