It might not have been a good time to find his voice, but he did, and he couldn’t stop himself from saying what his imagination had wound into an almost tangible desire. “I wish it had been you.”
“Don’t,” Gavin whispered. It was the voice of rough gravel, hurricane winds, blistering sunlight.
“It would have been different, wouldn’t it? To feel mind-blown by something like that instead of terrified; to want it instead of fighting it.” It was hard to put sentences together. He tried—man, oh man, did he try—but his brain was stumbling over the roadblock of wanting to try something so dangerously erotic while trying to hold back the overwhelming need to come. “The pain would be something else, wouldn’t it? Like when you’re ready for something you want. Like how a piercing doesn’t hurt as much as…I don’t know…getting a needle at the doctor’s. Sweeter.” He swallowed, looked over his shoulder. “Hotter.”
“Matthew…”