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What They Don't Know Won't Hurt Me

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Saying that it’s not the worst idea he’s ever come up with doesn’t really mean much. He’s got his parents sleeping down the hall in his spare room because he couldn’t just let them stay in a hotel while they were in town, no he had to be a fucking gentleman and invite them to stay with him. They’d even offered to stay at the same hotel as Brady while the Sens were in town to play them and he’d insisted, the considerate son that he is. 

He’d wanted to show Brady up. 

He hadn’t realized how much it would suck.

It’s not that he doesn’t love his parents, because he does, dearly. It’s just that they don’t know about Ritter. Ritter and him. He’d tossed all of the stuff Ritter's left at his place over the past few months into his closet about an hour before they arrived and had managed to play off the few items he’d missed- a sweater with the wrong number, a book in Czech- as stuff that friends had left behind. He’d spent years sleeping without Ritter, he could go two nights. He could do this. 

But like, he’s 22 and horny all the time.  

“Did you get rid of your parents?” Ritter gives him a very judgemental look when Matt meets him at the door at two in the morning. He’s got his key in one hand, dressed only in a soft looking t-shirt, sweats, and sneakers, like he rolled out of bed right after Matt texted him and came straight over. His hair is sleep rumpled and Matt’s fingers itch to run through the short strands. 

“We have to keep quiet,” he whispers, taking Ritter by the hand and leading him back through the dark, quiet apartment to his room. Their room. 

“I should go back to my apartment,” Ritter mumbles but lets himself be led. “Is stupid risk.”

“They won’t find out,” Matt promises, shutting the door firmly between them and the rest of the world. “They’re going out with Brady in the morning anyways so they said they wouldn’t wake me up. They’ll never know you were here.”

Ritter gives him another look so Matt reaches out and pulls him into a messy kiss. 

The thing is, Matt’s not ashamed of Ritter, or looking to hide what they have. They’re out to the team, Brady, to Ritter’s family even. It’s his family he’s worried about, or rather his dad. If he could he’d have Ritter with him every second of every day, and he tries to pour that emotion, that need into the kiss. Ritter responds as he knew he would, big hands on his waist, pulling him firmly against his body, quickly taking control of the kiss. Matt surrenders to it with a happy sigh, melting against Ritter’s chest, his own hands reaching up, threading through the short, soft strands he’d wanted to smooth out before, determined to leave them worse than when they started. 

He backs them towards the bed, only startling a little when he finds it, the backs of his knees bumping the mattress and sending him sprawling down on the rumpled blankets. Ritter topples after him, caught in his grasp and he lets out an oof at the weight that lands on him. They both freeze, ears straining. Outside their room the apartment remains silent. 

“It’s like I’m a teenager again,” Matt whispers, amused. “Sneaking you into my parents house.” The fear of getting caught has his blood pumping, his cock hard in his boxers. 

Ritter rolls his eyes, ducking down to kiss him again. He moans into it without meaning to and Ritter pulls back briefly to shush him. They lose track of time to the kiss, until Matt’s lips are swollen and they’re rocking together, Ritter’s cock pressed against his hip insistently.

He lets out a low whine when Ritter sits up, but it’s only to tug off his t-shirt, tossing it out of sight. Matt smooths his hands across Ritter’s chest, toying teasingly with his nipples to feel the way he shivers under his ministrations. He runs his hands down, loving the feel of his toned, warm skin, to cup his cock through the material of his sweats. Ritter bites his lip but doesn’t make a sound. Matt narrows his eyes. 

He rolls them, sending Ritter sprawling across the bed to settle between his spread legs. 

“Thought you want me to fuck you.” Ritter gazes down at him from beneath heavy lidded eyes. He doesn’t stop Matt when he tugs his sweats down and off, his cock hard and leaking where it rests against his stomach. 

“Later.” Matt’s mouth waters at the sight spread out before him. He doesn’t waste any time, sealing his lips around the swollen head. Ritter grips his shoulder. He’s still quiet, which makes sense but Matt hates, so he goes for it.

He slides down, takes as much as he can without gagging, working his tongue along the underside. Ritter’s grip tightens, blunt nails digging in. Matt pulls off, catches his breath and swallows him down again. He gags a little this time, too eager, but Ritter doesn’t seem to mind if the soft swearing is anything to go by. His cock twitches in his boxers but he shoves the need to touch himself aside. This is about Ritter right now.

Ritter’s hands thread through his hair and he shivers, leans into the touch. Ritter scratches along his scalp, then grabs a fistful and tugs and he whines. He rocks his hips up experimentally, and Matt goes with it, lets him dictate the speed, eager to pull more sounds from his lips. He thrusts up into Matt’s mouth, slowly, deliberately, his breathing growing rougher. He sets a rhythm, works himself deeper until he’s brushing the back of Matt’s throat and Matt has to work not to gag. And then he pushes deeper, until the head of his cock is in Matt’s throat, his big hands moving Matt’s mouth how he wants him, like he’s some toy to be used. He loves it.

Matt sinks into it, a haze washing over him. Everything else feels distant save for the stretch of his lips, the feel of Ritter filling him up, his pulse roaring in his ears. 

“Beautiful,” Ritter murmurs and “so good for me.”

DImly Matt is aware that his goal had been to make Ritter moan, to make him lose control, but that’s distant now, not as important. 

“Swallow, okay?” He sounds breathless, voice rough. 

Matt hums as Ritter eases him off a bit, until the head of his cock is pressed against his tongue. He fists the base of his cock as he comes, the bitter taste spilling across Matt’s tongue and down his throat. He swallows obediently, keeps swallowing, lips and tongue working Ritter’s cock until there’s nothing left and Ritter is pulling him off, oversensitive.

“Fuck, c’mere.” Ritter doesn’t leave him hanging, pulls him up so he can kiss him, licking the taste of his come from Matt’s mouth. He slides his hand under the waistband of Matt’s boxers, wrapping his hand around his aching cock. He’s soaked, and the glide is easy. Matt whines, loud and startling in the quiet of the room.

“You wake up your parents,” Ritter admonishes, but he doesn’t stop jerking Matt off. He can’t help the moans that fall from his lips, rocking his hips, pushing into Ritter’s tight grip on him. The fear of waking them, of being discovered like this, is still there, but it’s nothing more than an afterthought with the way his balls are drawing up, his cock so hard it hurts. 

Ritter twists his wrist and Matt chokes off a sob. He can hear himself, the pathetic little whines, the pleas for more but he can’t stop them.

Ritter reaches up, presses his hand to Matt’s mouth, effectively silencing him. He pants wetly against his palm, desperation making him reckless. 

“You want keep quiet, right?” Ritter’s gaze is searing. Matt whines but it’s muffled now. “Good boy.”

He comes with a sob, all over Ritter’s fist, soaking his boxers. He shakes through it, unable to hear anything over the roaring in his ears. 

It feels like forever before he comes back down and when he does it’s to find Ritter curled around him in bed, his gross boxers discarded, the blankets pulled up around them. Ritter’s running a soothing hand across his chest, his stomach, any part of Matt he can reach. It helps center him, draw him back to the present. 

“You okay?” Ritter presses a kiss to his neck, to his shoulder. He shivers. 

“I’m awesome,” he grins and Ritter huffs out a laugh. Fuck, his voice is wrecked though- it’s a good thing his parents are out most of the day, he’s not sure how he’ll explain this one.

“You are a menace,” Ritter says fondly. 

“Yeah, but you’ve known that for ages.”