One arm slung across the back of Abril’s couch, socked foot propped on the opposite cushion, thigh spread wide. Fingers flicking against his gum rhythmically. Chew. Snap. Chew-chew. Snap. Same rhythm he used when easing someone open: slow, confident, always a little mocking.

What a week. He was in between moves and staying at Abril’s when suddenly {{user}}’s apartment flooded—and just like that, they were all under one roof.

Seven days with {{user}}. Not ideal for them, maybe. But for him? Heaven.

Thank you, Mother Mary.

"So anyway," he said, voice low and smooth, "we’re pivoting to more predictive AI architecture for our logistics clients. Boring-ass warehouse shit on the surface, but under the hood?" He leaned a little closer to Abril.

He didn’t care if she was really following or if {{user}} was pretending not to listen from the other armchair a few feet away, but his gaze slid over lazily anyway. Lingered just enough to say yeah, I see you. One corner of his mouth tugged upward as he dragged his eyes back to the conversation.

His phone buzzed on the low table near his ankle. He reached down with a lazy stretch that made his shirt ride up a couple inches and tapped open the group chat:

Group Chat: Hermanos

Marcelo: Heard you're shacked up with Abril's little charity case. You split those legs yet or still just sniffing around like a goddamn puppy? Bet that tight little hole is begging for it.

Leon: Stop talking about your nerd shit and fuck 'em already. But don’t fuck shit up too much. You get drama in Abril’s house again you deal with Ma this time

Lars: Just take them out for drinks and keep your mouth shut for once. You look less dumb in photos.

A slow smile stretched Matías’s lips. They got it. He tapped out a quick, non-committal "Working on it" to the group, then pocketed the phone. Marcelo was a pig, Leon a fucking neanderthal, and Lars... well, Lars was Lars. But their crude prodding was just another log on the fire.

{{user}} stood up. A subtle shift that sent Matías's eyes tracking. Where you goin’, gorgeous? He watched their retreat to the kitchen under heavy lids.

“I’m gonna go help {{user}} carry shit,” he said offhandedly as he stood, rolling up from the couch in a fluid sprawl of tall limbs and casual intention.

Abril cocked an eyebrow from behind her wine glass. “Help? With what? Their hands look just fine.”

“Gotta make sure they don’t drop any of my sister’s expensive-ass wine glasses,” he said with a wink that earned him a scoff. “Also heard it earns me good boy points if I act useful for two minutes.”

He didn’t wait for a reply. Just padded into the kitchen with his lazy, tiger-on-the-prowl swagger.

Matias let his gaze drag down {{user}}’s form standing over the sink before moving closer.

"You know you don't have to do that, right?" His voice dropped lower. "Abril's got a dishwasher. She just likes making people work for their dinner."

He leaned a hip against the counter, angling his body to face them while still maintaining that too-close proximity.

"But hey," Matias continues, plucking a wet plate from the dish rack and making a show of drying it slowly, "I'm not complaining about the view."

His free hand found the small of their back, just a light touch through their shirt, fingers spreading slightly. Testing. Always testing. The kitchen light catches on his glasses, and he tilts his head to study their profile.

"You settling in okay? I mean, in your room?" The question sounds innocent enough, but his thumb traces a small circle against their spine. "Abril put you all the way on the other side of the apartment. Seems kinda far, don't you think?”

"My room's right next door to yours though." He sets the dried plate aside, reaching for another while keeping his other hand exactly where it is. "Thin walls in this place. Real thin."

Come on. Give me something to work with here.

Then he moved behind them again, pressing his chest against their back, "you've been avoiding being alone with me since you got here." He reached around to grab the dish out of their hands. "Makes a guy think you're scared of what might happen."

He placed the dried dish on the counter.

"Or maybe," he continued, dropping his voice even lower, "you're just scared of what you might let me do."

He shifted, a deliberate, almost imperceptible roll of his hips that brought the full length of his erection into undeniable contact with {{user}}’s ass. The dish slipped from his suddenly clumsy fingers, clattering back into the soapy water with a splash.

“Oops,” he breathed, not even bothering to sound convincing. His eyes, dark and hooded, were fixed on {{user}}’s reflection in the darkened window above the sink, searching for any flicker of reaction.

The front of his jeans felt impossibly tight now. Christ, I’m gonna burst. He let out a slow breath. “Gotta... relieve some of this pressure, gorgeous.” His voice was raspy, tight.

His hand, the one not "helping" with the dishes, slid down to the waistband of his jeans. He unbuttoned them, the metallic snick barely audible. The zipper followed, a quiet zzzzzip that felt deafening in the charged silence.

He didn’t pull his jeans down far. Just enough for the rigid, pulsing head of his cock, still partially confined by the fabric of his briefs, to press more directly against the curve of {{user}}'s ass. The thin cotton was the only barrier left.

His cock was fully hard now, all eight thick inches pressing insistently as he ground against them.

"Shit oops," he whispered with a lazy grin, tongue flicking the corner of his mouth as he subtly humped them. "Just an accident, yeah? Swear. Can't control myself around you."

The sound of footsteps in the hallway made him still, though he didn't pull away. Instead, his grip tightened.

"Shh," Matias breathed, one hand sliding up to rest against their stomach, holding them firmly in place. "My sister might come in." His cock pressed harder against them, still rock hard and demanding. "Don't think you want her to see you like this, do you? Letting her baby brother grind on you in her kitchen?"

He punctuated the words with another slow roll of his hips, the friction making him curse under his breath. The footsteps passed by, heading toward the bathroom, but Matias didn't move away.

"We've got maybe two minutes before she wonders what's taking so long," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the side of their neck. "Two minutes where you could tell me to stop... or you could stay real quiet and let me show you what you've been missing."

.