Page 60 of The Official Problem
Kieran was drunk on him, so lost in the haze of desire that when he finally rose to kiss Matthieu, it took no effort at all for Matthieu to flip them. He moved fast, pinning Kieran to the mattress with a snarl. Kieran gasped, his thighs falling open.Matthieu ground against him, pressing down almost painfully where Kieran was already aching and trapped inside his shorts.
A fierce, wild look burned in Matthieu’s eyes. Kieran drank it in, letting it consume him. He bit Matthieu’s lip, letting himself struggle a little. He could’ve flipped them back easily if he wanted. But he didn’t. Wouldn’t. He loved this, loved giving in, loved letting Matthieu take control. Loved being his, being owned by him.
“I need you,” Kieran whimpered.
Matthieu let out a dark, delicious chuckle. It rumbled up from his chest in a practically feral growl.
“Are you going to be good for me, Kieran?” he purred, voice curling like smoke. He sank his teeth into Kieran’s pec, right above his heart, hard enough to draw a cry from his lips. “Or do you need me to remind you who’s in charge?”
Kieran shuddered beneath him, every nerve on fire. “Remind me, please.”
“You’re so pretty when you beg,” Matthieu said softly.
His fingertips danced over Kieran’s ribs, and Kieran arched into him, breath catching as those deft hands tugged his shirt up and over his head.
“You don’t need to beg for me tonight, sweetheart,” Matthieu murmured, pressing a kiss below Kieran’s jaw. “I’m already yours.”
A soundless moan slipped from Kieran’s parted lips as Matthieu’s full weight settled on top of him. Every inch of Matthieu’s lithe body pressed him into the mattress. Holding him. Anchoring him. Surrounding him with a warmth that made Kieran feel like his heart might explode.
Gone was the hopeless ache that had lived there only that morning. Gone was the wishful longing. The doubt. The deep, relentless fear that Matthieu would vanish from his life again without warning, just like he had the last time. In its placebloomed something else entirely: a seed, tiny and fragile, filled with so much fucking promise. Kieran vowed to nurture that seed. He’d pour hours into its care, shelter it from any storm, and give his heart and soul to helping it grow.
It was hope.
“I’ve always been yours,” Matthieu murmured—a vow.
It struck like a match in dry grass, igniting every inch of Kieran’s skin. His breath hitched as Matthieu kissed him again, deep and languid, like he had all the time in the world. Like he was savoring this. Savoring him. He reached for Matthieu’s waistband, desperate to pull him closer, to feel the hard length of him pressed against his own.
Matthieu caught his wrists and pinned them above his head with one hand. “Let me,” he said, low and commanding, “take my time with you.”
Kieran nodded, wide-eyed. Wrecked already. Matthieu’s mouth traced a hot line down his throat. His teeth scraped over Kieran’s collarbone, slow enough to tease, hard enough to leave delicious marks on flushed skin. Kieran arched, desperate for more—anything. Matthieu only chuckled, shifting down and pinning his hips with the weight of his own.
“Stay still.”
That tone, sharp-edged yet laced with affection, made Kieran’s cock twitch in his shorts. He whimpered, muscles trembling, caught in a delicious stasis as Matthieu’s lips grazed his chest, taking his time, lavishing attention on each nipple, humming his approval at every gasp Kieran gave him. He kissed lower, brushing his lips across Kieran’s abs, then knelt between his spread thighs. One hand finally released Kieran’s wrists to glide down the outside of his leg.
“Keep them there,” Matthieu said firmly, stripping Kieran’s shorts in one fluid motion.
His cock sprang free, already slick and flushed an angry red at the tip. Matthieu’s tongue flicked out to trace his lower lip at the sight. Kieran couldn’t have disobeyed if he tried.
“You’re perfect,” Matthieu murmured, leaning in to lick a slow stripe up Kieran’s cock. Kieran’s hips jerked, helpless against the sensation. “Still,” Matthieu commanded again. “I’m going to make you feel so good, sweetheart.”
Then hedid.
His mouth, God, his perfect fucking mouth, was everywhere. Licking. Sucking. Tongue swirling over the head, teasing the slit. Taking Kieran inch by inch, so fucking slowly it nearly broke him. And his fingers, those long, clever fingers, ghosted between Kieran’s thighs, massaging the inside of his leg. Tracing circles that left him trembling. One slid back, teasing his desperate hole. Just the softest brush, not pushing in. Kieran gasped, his whole body taut as a wire.
“Please,” he breathed. “Please, I need?—”
“I know what you need,” Matthieu said, lifting his mouth to speak, his words heavy with need. “But you’re going to wait. You’ll take everything I give you, and only then will I let you cum. Do you understand?”
Kieran had no words. His entire body was at Matthieu’s mercy, Matthieu’s torture.
“I asked you—” Matthieu pulled his hand away, starting to sit up.
“Yes, fuck. Yes, I understand.” Kieran snapped, earning another deep chuckle.
“Good boy. Now reach behind you and grab the lube. Top drawer.”
Kieran didn’t have it in him to feel embarrassed as he scrambled, pathetically, to do Matthieu’s bidding. The lube was exactly where Matthieu said it would be, a half-full packet of condoms lying beside it.
