Frequencies of Us Chapter 57: Truth and a Dare

Mateo POV

I’m standing in the backyard, dirt under my sneakers, sun beating down on my neck. Noah’s with me, hands in his pockets, looking at me with those eyes that make my stomach flip. My heart’s thumping loud, fast, like it always does when he’s close. I feel sweaty, restless, needing to touch him. I grin, step closer, and say, “Wanna wrestle again?” My voice is low, teasing, daring him.

He smirks, nods, and kicks off his shoes. We circle each other, barefoot in the dirt, and my chest tightens, excited, wanting him bad. I lunge first, fast, grabbing his waist. He twists, but I’m stronger, and I tackle him down, pinning him flat. His back hits the ground, and I’m on top, my knees on either side of his hips. I feel him under me, warm, squirming, and my dick gets hard, pressing against my shorts.

“Can’t handle me?” I say, smirking, leaning close. His breath’s quick, brushing my face, and I can’t hold back. I crash my lips into his, hard and hungry, kissing him deep. My tongue pushes in, tasting him, and he moans, soft, needy, making my whole body heat up. His hands grab my shoulders, pulling me tighter, and I grind down slow, my dick rubbing against him through our clothes. It feels so good I groan into his mouth.

I grip his ass, hands sliding under his shorts, squeezing hard. His skin’s hot, smooth, and he bucks up, pressing into me. My heart’s slamming now, wild, and I kiss him messier, wet and rough, sucking his bottom lip. He’s panting, loud, and I feel his dick hardening, pushing back against mine. I yank his shirt up, tossing it aside, and run my hands over his chest, feeling his heartbeat racing under my fingers. “Fuck, Noah,” I mutter, my voice shaky, and he grins, wicked, like he knows what he’s doing to me.

I pull back, just enough to rip my own shirt off, and then I’m on him again, chest to chest, skin burning where we touch. I grind harder, slow circles, feeling him twitch under me. My hands slide down, tugging his shorts lower, and his dick pops out, thick and ready. I grab it, stroking fast, and he gasps, loud, head tipping back into the dirt. “Mateo,” he moans, and it’s like a spark hits me, straight to my gut.

I shove my shorts down, freeing myself, and my dick’s throbbing, leaking already. I press it against his, rubbing them together, hot and slick. He’s shaking now, hands clawing my back, and I stroke us both, tight, fast, loving how he feels in my grip. “You’re so fucking hot,” I growl, kissing his neck, sucking hard, leaving a mark. He bucks up again, moaning louder, and I can’t stop—don’t want to.

I spit in my hand, wet and messy, and slick us up, stroking faster. The sound’s dirty, wet, and his eyes roll back, mouth open, panting my name. My dick pulses, heat building low, and I thrust against him, grinding rough. “Cum with me,” I say, voice hoarse, and he nods, desperate, gripping my arms. I feel him tense, his dick jerking in my hand, and then he’s cumming, hot and thick, spilling over my fingers. It pushes me over, and I cum too, hard, groaning loud, our mess mixing on his stomach.

We’re breathing fast, stuck together, my forehead on his. I kiss him slow, soft, tasting sweat on his lips. My chest feels full, warm, like he’s everything I need. I roll off, lying next to him in the dirt, our hands brushing. “You’re mine,” I whisper, and he turns his head, smiling, eyes soft. My heart skips, happy, and I want to stay like this forever.

But then I hear them—voices, loud and mean, coming from the fence. Jocks. Ryan’s there, with his buddies, pointing at us. “Look at the fairies!” he yells, laughing, and my stomach drops, cold and fast. My fists clench, anger boiling up, and I’m on my feet before I think. Noah grabs my arm, says, “Don’t,” but I shake him off, storming over.

“Say it again!” I shout, my voice shaking, mad as hell. Ryan smirks, steps closer, and calls me something worse—something that burns in my chest. I swing, hard, my fist smashing his nose. Blood spurts, red and wet, and he stumbles back, cursing loud. The others yell, rushing me, but I don’t care—my heart’s pounding, rage taking over. Noah’s behind me, shouting my name, scared, but I can’t stop.

I swing again, hitting another guy, my knuckles stinging. They shove me back, and I trip, landing hard in the dirt. My chest heaves, breath ragged, and I taste blood in my mouth. Noah’s there, pulling me up, his hands tight on me. “Mateo, stop!” he says, voice cracking, and I look at him, chest hurting, mad and afraid. The jocks laugh, walking off, but Ryan yells, “We saw you, fag! Everyone’s gonna know!”

My heart stops, fear clawing up my throat. Saw us? How much? My hands shake, and I look at Noah, his face pale, eyes wide. We’re in deep now, exposed, and I feel sick, like the ground’s dropping out. I grab his hand, needing him close, but my head’s spinning, panic mixing with the heat still buzzing in me.

I get home later, sneaking in quiet, my knuckles bruised, my shirt dirty. Mom’s in the kitchen, stirring something, and I try to slip past. She turns, fast, and grabs my arm. “Mateo, what’s this?” she says, voice sharp, pulling my collar down. Her fingers brush the hickey Noah left, dark and red on my neck. My face burns, hot and quick, and I yank away, heart racing.

“It’s nothing,” I mutter, voice low, but she steps closer, eyes narrow. “Who gave you that? Some girl?” she asks, loud, digging in. My stomach twists, tight and sick, because I can’t tell her—not about Noah, not about us. I shake my head, say, “Leave it,” and try to walk off. She grabs me again, harder, and says, “You’re hiding something, Mateo. Tell me now.”

I freeze, chest tight, her words cutting deep. My hands sweat, and I feel trapped, cornered. I open my mouth, but nothing comes—just that fear, choking me. Then my phone buzzes in my pocket, loud and sudden, snapping me out of it. I pull it out, hands shaky, and see a text from an unknown number. My heart slams, hard, and I read it: “Check your locker tomorrow. Proof’s there.”

My breath stops, stuck in my throat. Proof? Of what? Me and Noah? The fight? My head spins, fast and wild, and I look up at Mom, still staring, waiting. My chest hurts, panic crashing in, and I shove the phone back, hands trembling. What’s in my locker? Who sent this? I’m stuck, heart pounding, Mom’s eyes on me, and I don’t know what’s coming—but it’s bad, real bad, and it’s gonna hit hard.