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By (user no longer on site) OP
5 weeks ago
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The drive was a blurred streak of city lights and heavy silence, the kind that vibrates with everything left unsaid. By the time the door to Matthew’s penthouse clicked shut, the restraint they’d maintained at the bar snapped.
Matthew didn’t even make it to the light switch. He pinned Julian against the cool mahogany of the foyer door, his hands immediately finding the hem of Julian's shirt. "You were so quiet in the car," Matthew murmured, his breath hot against Julian’s jaw. "I want to know exactly what’s going through your head."
Julian didn't answer with words. He reached down, his fingers hooking back into the waistband of Matthew’s trousers, pulling him flush against his own heat. The friction of the midnight-blue lace against Julian's palms was electric—a delicate, illicit secret hidden under the armor of a power suit.
"I want to see them," Julian rasped. "Properly."
Matthew stepped back, a predatory glint in his eyes. He stripped off his jacket, letting it hit the floor with a heavy thud, followed by his shirt. In the dim spill of the streetlamps through thefloor-to-ceiling windows, Matthew looked like a marble statue—until he stepped out of his trousers. There, the delicate blue lace hugged his frame, the sheer floral patterns revealing the hard muscle of his thighs and the unmistakable evidence of his arousal. The sight was a beautiful contradiction that made Julian’s head spin.
Julian dropped to his knees, his hands trembling as he traced the scalloped edges of the silk. He leaned forward, pressing a lingering kiss to the fabric, inhaling Matthew’s scent. "You're shaking," Matthew noted, his voice thick with pride as he ran his fingers through Julian's hair.
"You have no idea," Julian whispered. He gripped the sides of the panties, his thumbs sliding underneath the elastic to feel the velvet-soft skin beneath. He looked up at Matthew, his eyes dark with a mix of reverence and raw hunger. "I’ve spent my whole life looking for someone who understands this."
Matthew leaned down, catching Julian’s chin and pulling him into a searing kiss. "Then stop looking," he promised, his voice dropping to a velvet growl. "I have enough silk and lace to keep you occupied for a very, very long time."
He took Julian’s hand, leading him toward the bedroom, where the moonlight reflected off a casually tossed heap of discarded finery—satin, mesh, and silk—waiting to be explored.
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