I looked like I was exactly where I belonged.
Matias chose that moment to pull out of me before thrusting deep once more. I cried out, watching my reflection as I did so. If I hadn't known the man in the mirror was me, I would've envied him. I would've envied the wildness in his eyes, the hard press of his fingertips against the glass, the rock-hard cock that was flushed with color.
I tried to keep my eyes open as long as I could as Matias fucked me, but it was impossible. There was just too much sensation to deal with. My ass stung as he pummeled me, but the burn quickly turned to an almost unbearable pleasure. Matias had me completely pinned, so I could do nothing but stand there and take it… take him. He grunted in my ear as his pace quickened and his lunges became more frantic. I was only dimly aware of the pleas that began to fall from my lips… the ones for relief. When Matias reached around me to grip my dick, I pressed my forehead against the arm I had folded in front of me. I ended up shifting my gaze back and forth between our reflection in the mirror and his hand on my shaft. I was fascinated with the expressions that passed over Matias’s features as he pounded into me. As detached and distant as he always seemed during the few conversations we'd had, his expressions were so very different when we were having sex. It was like he forgot that he had to hide from me.
It took just minutes for me to feel the orgasm reaching its breaking point. On the one hand, I didn't want it to end, but on the other, I couldn't stop reaching for that perfect relief that would make me forget about the real world for a while. Sex with Matias had become like a drug to me. All it had taken was one hit and I’d been a goner. I had no idea how I would survive it if this was the last time I got to have him like this.
Matias's hand quickened on my dick as he began slamming into me hard enough to push me up onto my tiptoes. I had nothing to hang on to, so I wrapped my left arm around the arm Matias had braced against the glass. I turned my head and pressed my mouth against his forearm as the orgasm built and built. There was the slightest shift in Matias’s angle as he drove into me. He hit my prostate on the next thrust and that instantly sent me crashing over the abyss of my release. I bit down on Matias's arm as I came. He shouted at the same time as he drove into me and began filling me with jet after jet of cum. By the time it was over, I was shaking and barely able to breathe and the only thing holding me up was the man behind me. He released my cock and wrapped his arm around my waist to hold me in place as aftershocks ripped through both of us with violent force. When it was finally all over, his softened dick slipped from my body. But he didn't let me go, which I was thankful for because I would've ended up on the floor in a heap.
Matias stepped us both backwards so the spray of water hit us. I expected him to just keep us there, but to my surprise, he sat down on the little stool I kept in the shower and then turned me around and pulled me onto his lap so I was facing him. The warm water gently pelted my back and slipped over my sore ass. I dropped my head on his shoulder because I was too tired to keep it upright.
We ended up staying there for several long minutes. It was only when the water started to cool that Matias rose, forcing me to do so as well. Things turned awkward as we got out of the shower and began drying ourselves off. As Matias pulled his pants on, I donned the bathrobe I kept on the back of the bathroom door. "I need to go check on Ryan," I said. I wanted to ask him not to leave, but unlike the last time after we made love, I was feeling unbearably vulnerable.
I ended up leaving the bathroom and hurrying out of the bedroom without saying a thing. I went to Ryan's room to make sure he was still asleep. I tried not to listen for any sounds like the front or back doors opening, but in reality, that was all I was really listening for. After making sure Ryan was settled, I returned to my room, not sure what I'd find. A ridiculous amount of relief went through me when I saw Matias’s shirt still on the floor by the bed. The man himself was standing by the window that overlooked the backyard.
"I'm not looking for a relationship," he said without turning around.
The words weren’t a particular surprise, but the fact that they stung was.
"And I don't want to be a one-night stand," I responded.
I swore I saw the slightest stiffening of Matias’s shoulders. He had his hands clasped behind his back, much like the stance of someone in the military. It wasn't the first time I'd had that thought, but a lot of things had changed since the day I'd first met this man. It might've only been a couple of weeks, but it felt like much longer. My eyes roamed over Matias’s back. The scratches I'd left on him were still there, but they didn't seem as pronounced anymore. I stepped closer to him so I could see for myself how badly I’d damaged his skin, but as I got closer, it wasn't the marks I'd left behind that caught my attention.
He was covered in marks. Not just marks, but scars. The majority had the same size and shape. The skin was raised and puckered, so the wounds clearly hadn't been stitched. There were maybe a dozen of the marks, mostly clustered in the center of his shoulders. I found myself reaching up to touch one without even thinking to ask if it was okay. Matias flinched at the contact, but he didn't pull away. I traced the length of one of them. "What happened?" I asked softly.
He didn't answer me. I thought he wasn't going to, so I dropped my hand and began to turn away.
"I hadn't figured it out yet," Matias responded, his voice barely above a whisper. I almost didn't recognize it because I'd never heard him sound so unsure and vulnerable before.
"Figured what out?" I asked as I stepped back to him and carefully moved so I was standing by his side. Despite the change in his voice, his jaw was set and hard and nothing about his stance had softened in the least.
"There was this point when he'd be too drunk to aim his belt. It took me a while to learn how to steer clear of him until he got to that point. As long as I stayed quiet enough, stayed out of his sight enough, he’d focus on drinking and he’d eventually be too far gone to get in a clean shot." Despite the vulnerability I'd heard, there was little emotion in his voice as he described the cause of the scars. I felt sick to my stomach as I looked at them again.
I remembered what Matias had said about his father when he’d been telling me that the man had often gone after Cruz. “Your father did this to you?”
Again, there was no immediate response. But this time I remained where I was and eventually Matias nodded.
"How old were you?"
Matias shrugged. "Old enough to know there'd be a day when I'd be able to hit back."
"I'm sorry—"
"I didn't tell you because I wanted your pity. I told you because you asked." His voice was firm, but not harsh. I suspected it was more about him trying to both protect himself but not hurt me in the process.
"You said he hurt Cruz too.”
For the first time, I saw an obvious reaction. Matias swallowed hard and closed his eyes. He nodded again before saying, "I couldn't always be there to protect him. I would tell him to stay in his room, but he was like me when I was little. He wanted to believe."
"Believe what?"
"That he was immune. That the fists our father used on other people would never be used on him. When it did finally happen for the first time, Cruz thought it was his fault. That he provoked it somehow."