Free Deliverance - Hooch and Matt's Story by TA Brown, Marquesate

“Not the first time this room’s seen a bit of making out,” his eyes glanced over a few feet to Hooch’s left, “and more  I lost my cherry just over there, you know.”
    Without giving Hooch a chance to respond he swallowed him down with practiced ease, barely pausing as Hooch’s cock met the back of his throat.
    Whatever mockery Hooch was about to come out with, it was swallowed, literally, by Matt. All thoughts of teenage Matt were gone, as the adult one gave pleasure to Hooch.
    Which he did with his usual meticulous skill and the occasional glance upwards at Hooch, eyes gleaming, as if daring him to make more than a few muffled sounds.
    Hooch clenched his fists at his side, no contact, except for the heat of Matt’s throat, his tongue that knew all the sensitive places, and his hand. Hooch’s face contorted with the effort of control, but no sound came out from between his gritted teeth, not even as he came.
    Matt took much longer than was really necessary to swallow every drop, ensuring that Hooch was clean with long, lazy swipes of his tongue, before standing up and doing Hooch’s fly up again. The kiss this time was softer, almost languid, just letting Hooch taste himself as well as the faint ghost of nutmeg.
    Once he got his heartbeat and breathing back under control, Hooch took hold of Matt’s shoulders and pushed him back at arm’s length, studying him with an ever growing smirk.
    “You, Matt Donahue,” he finally said, “are going to pay for that. Undress and onto the bed. It will be christened tonight, and in absolute silence!” He reached to grope Matt’s hard-on through his trousers.
    With a raised eyebrow, and pretending a nonchalance that his strangled gasp and increased breathing betrayed, Matt stepped back out of Hooch’s grasp. He pulled his sweater up over his head, before kicking off his shoes and pulling down his trousers. The room was small enough that it was only a few steps backwards to the bed, and he landed on it with the faint puff of feathers in the duvet as it was hastily pushed to one side.
    Hooch remained standing at the side of the bed for a while longer, feasting on the sight of the perfect body, laid out before his eyes. Not touching, not talking, just looking while taking his fill, until he moved onto the bed at long last, still fully clothed.
    For the next hour, he took his time to explore the body he knew so well, attempting to re-learn it all over again, with only his lips, teeth and tongue. He almost had to gag Matt, to keep him from making noises he couldn’t hold back, until he finally, mercifully, allowed him to come.
    “You bastard,” Matt’s grin was weary and his voice hoarse, as though the effort of keeping quiet had put strain on his vocal cords. He looked up at the ceiling, where a few glow-in-the-dark stickers remained, then returned his gaze to Hooch. “I thought you said a proper christening,” the pointedly looked at Hooch’s crotch as he spread his legs further, lying back on the pillows.
    “You trying to tell me you never got fucked in here? I thought you’d lost your cherry in this room.” Hooch let his finger run all the way down from Matt’s smooth throat, along the chest, down to his spent cock.
    “Hmmm…” Matt’s purr was noncommittal, “not for more than ten years, not in this bed, and not by you.” He pushed up lazily into Hooch’s hand.
    “In that case, one more day won’t matter.” Hooch flashed a downright mean grin, then stretched out beside Matt. Still fully clothed, hands beneath is head, he looked up at the glow-in-the-dark stickers on the ceiling. To all intents and purposes ignoring his more than half-hard cock. “Go to sleep, kid. I’m a middle aged man who needs his rest.”
    Matt made a muffled sound of outrage but there was no budging Hooch when he was in one of his moods. Grumbling about sneaky, unreasonable, sadistic Deltas, he turned onto his side, careful to present a tempting sight of muscled back and