Page 66 of Just Past Two

“And does it work? Do you relax?”

“I suppose.” Silas tipped his head back and forth in a “maybe, maybe not” gesture.

Something occurred to Matthew. “So did you sleep last night?”

“Yes, actually.” Silas nodded, brightening. “I slept right through the entire morning, past eleven. I haven’t done that since college. Of course, staying up until all hours and drinking, especially when not accustomed to it, would probably wipe anyone out.”

Not to mention some filthy sex against the wall, but he refrained from bringing that up in case Silas was feeling shy about it. “Of course.” Matthew looked at the man across from him with a mixture of pity and intrigue. What a life he must lead, where work was so stressful that he couldn’t even take a day off without feeling like he was letting someone down. His parents were probably the neurotic type, too. The guy was likely going to have some kind of breakdown at some point, especially if he kept drinking coffee and not sleeping. And yet he was rather fun, too, in the uptight sort of way. He was just waiting to be shaken up, and Matthew wanted to do the shaking. “You know,” Matthew said after a minute, “you should consider taking up gaming. It might help you relax.”

Silas finished his coffee and set the mug aside, smiling. “That’s sweet of you to say, but I just can’t afford that kind of time expenditure for something that’s yielding no return.”

Matthew shrugged. “All right, suit yourself.” He knew when to quit; he also wasn’t going to expend too much effort on a venture that was also yielding no return. Just in case Silas didn’t know, though, he added, “I had a good time last night, by the way.”

Silas’s smile turned shy. “Me too.” He met Matthew’s eyes again with that intense hazel stare, and Matthew remembered the way his eyes had slammed shut in orgasm, head thrown back and neck muscles straining. It wasn’t fair for someone so hot to be so uptight. Silas broke the gaze first, taking out his phone to look at the time. “I should go. Thanks for getting my phone back to me. And for charging it.”

“Yeah, I put my number in there, too.” Matthew knew it was forward, but he’d weighed the pros and cons and decided that a chance at another night like last night was worth being up front.

“Oh.” Silas looked at the phone screen as if deciding whether or not to check right then, but slipped the phone back into his pocket instead. “Thank you. I’ll . . . yeah. Thanks.” He slid out of the booth, gave Matthew an awkward wave, and set his cup in the dish tray by the door on his way out.

Matthew watched him go, just as he’d watched him go last night. There was something about that guy. But he was wrapped up in his own issues, and he had such a fundamental lack of respect for Matthew’s profession, there was no way they were compatible outside the bedroom.

Still, by the time he got his mind off Silas enough to drain the last of his coffee before heading out, the liquid had gone cold.

Silas’s “couple of hours” of work easily turned into the rest of the day, and by the time he picked up food and got home, it was late. Really late. He felt the jittery sense of unease that always came from working late and then coming home to an empty house. Even with the television on in the background, tuned to a show he neither watched nor cared about, he felt the acute isolation that normally didn’t bother him. Tonight he longed for company. As he ate the pizza he’d picked up from the small take-out restaurant around the corner, he considered his earlier conversation with Matthew. He really hadn’t meant to offend Matthew and hoped there were no hard feelings, but still, he stood by what he said. He didn’t expect everyone to understand his work ethic.

Matthew, though, was clearly intelligent. He spoke like an educated person, and the conversation between them had been engaging rather than tedious. Silas often found that conversations with most people were tedious. Small talk was a waste of time, but fortunately, he hadn’t had to engage very much in that arena today. Matthew cut right to the crux of an argument and said what he was thinking. That was a rare quality in people. A man like Matthew should not be wasting his life away in a job that had no purpose. He was capable of more than designing video games and part-time bartending. Silas could picture Matthew in any number of careers that better utilized his skills. Perhaps even something that put him in contact with people; although Silas hated dealing with the public, Matthew was probably quite good at it. When they were talking, Matthew made him feel like the only person in the world.

Not to mention, of course, the way he occasionally looked at Silas like he had for the first time at Gigi’s, when he’d leaned on the bar and fastened him with a lascivious glare that promised everything. Just thinking about that look sent heat trickling down Silas’s spine. The look spoke of carnal interest and primitive desire. It was the look that had led to a passionate tryst in the coatroom of the club. He’d caught that look from Matthew once or twice while they were having coffee today, even after he’d clearly upset Matthew by speaking without thinking about how it sounded. As Silas cleaned up the table from his lonely late-night meal, he imagined Matthew there, getting up from the table and following him to the sink, boxing him in with his hands on the counter on each side of Silas’s hips. Lowering his lips to the sensitive spot on Silas’s neck . . .

Silas shook off the mental image as he poured a glass of water from the pitcher in the fridge, but as he drank it, he thought of the way Matthew had pushed his head back in this exact way to sink his teeth into the soft, tender skin under his jaw. He shivered. This was not how he was supposed to be spending his evening. These kinds of thoughts were not productive.

But oh, his body was interested, his cock stirring at the memory of Matthew’s body pressed against his. At first he tried to will away the arousal by distracting himself. He took his time wiping the table down with a damp cloth, putting his dishes in the dishwasher, focusing on the mundane tasks of keeping his house presentable. When he’d finished, though, Matthew still loomed large in his mind, a ghost that seemed to fill every room of the house even though he’d never been here.

All right, then. If he couldn’t distract himself, he could at least take care of the physical side of these urges so he could move on. He folded down the sheets and comforter of his bed, unfastened his belt and jeans, and pushed them and his underwear down to his knees as he lay down in the center of the bed.

Silas had never considered masturbation a leisurely activity as much as a necessary evil. To be fair, he didn’t dislike it. The results were pleasurable, even if the task was a bit undignified. Not to mention, he tended to sleep better afterward. Next to his fling with Matthew, though, Silas now realized that his solitary orgasms weren’t even in the same league. He honestly hadn’t known it was possible to come so hard. Thinking back on last night, which already felt like a week ago, he closed his hand around his cock and began to stroke. The actions were the same as always, but remembering Matthew’s touch, the pleasure was already more intense. He closed his eyes to better focus on the sensations. Matthew’s hands were broader than Silas’s, his fingers longer, and Silas tried to remember exactly the way he’d squeezed and tugged to drive him steadily to the edge. This felt too fast. His body was racing to orgasm at an improbable speed, his muscles tensing, and for the first time, he found himself slowing down to savor the pleasure rather than rushing to completion. Patience was not one of his gifts, least of all here, but Matthew would be the type to take his time, he could tell. They’d been rushed last night, their circumstances and fear of getting caught driving them both to desperation. If they’d had more time, their escapade would have been much longer. Maybe there were more levels of intensity that he had yet to experience. If so, he wasn’t sure he could handle it.

A little twist at the head, right there, had him nearing completion once more. His body felt tight and hot. He was used to the physical sensations leading to climax, but imagining Matthew there taking him in hand, he felt differently. Everything felt stronger and more focused. He was having trouble thinking, his mind going blank except for pleasure and need. So much need, dear God, so much need. What would Matthew do to him if given the chance? Silas’s other hand drifted up under his shirt, up to the marks along his collarbone and neck that were still sore to the touch, and he pressed deliberately on them to feel that sharp pain once more. He felt the contact shoot straight to his dick. A few more quick, tight tugs and he was coming, pleasure washing over him and entirely emptying his mind.

Wow. Silas panted into the stillness when he finished, exhausted and spent. His orgasms weren’t usually like that. He felt shaky and light-headed, much as he had felt last night. He got up on wobbly knees to clean himself up and get into nighttime clothes. Traces of postorgasm sleepiness began fogging his brain. Maybe he was wrong to fantasize about Matthew. Maybe this was crossing some line. If he wanted, he could probably get together with the man again. He’d put his phone number in Silas’s phone, after all.

Silas opened the contacts list and scrolled down, which he had refrained from doing until now. There he was: Matthew Abrams, with a phone number and email listed. He must know that Silas was an email kind of guy. He stared at the email address for a minute or two. It was plain, just his full name at Gmail, the address speaking of professionalism. Silas could email, of course, but what would it accomplish? Another distraction when he didn’t need distractions.

Setting the phone on his nightstand to charge, Silas climbed into bed and stared up at the ceiling. Maybe sleep would come easily tonight.

Matthew sat in the car for a few minutes in the driveway of his parents’ house, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. He shouldn’t still be thinking about Silas. He’d been upset at the guy for a little while during their impromptu coffee yesterday, but as their conversation went on, he’d realized that he was talking to a workaholic with obsessive tendencies and some social hang-ups. Of course a guy like that wouldn’t appreciate a job like game programmer. Silas had convinced himself that he had to be saving the world at all times or he was wasting his life. Not a very fun way to live.

And yet he couldn’t get rid of the nagging unease that had been settling into the pit of his stomach since that conversation. If it wasn’t anger at Silas, then what was it? He had gamed for a while with Isabel online, but the feelings had persisted, and even a good night’s sleep hadn’t helped. He’d woken up this morning feeling exactly as irritated as yesterday. Visiting his parents was going to mean hiding this irritation from them, too, although his mother was far too good at recognizing when he wasn’t in a good mood. It would have been unacceptable for him to turn down their invitation to lunch this week, though, so here he was, sitting in the driveway, composing himself for the visit and whatever tech repair they’d likely saved for him.

His mother, Latavia, opened the door with a big smile on her face. “Hi, honey. Come on in.” She pulled him down into her soft, squishy embrace, and he had to bend over quite a bit, since she was so short. “Your father got called in for work, so he won’t be back until a little later.” She stepped aside for Matthew to come in.

Matthew sized her up as he always did when he visited, making sure she still looked healthy and happy. People who saw them together in public generally found it comical that he was six feet tall and lean when she was barely over five feet and quite round, but he’d inherited his father’s height and build. The rest of his features, though, were more hers. They shared the same golden-brown eyes, the same amber-hued skin, the same hair. His mother kept hers long in wild natural curls, the style to which Matthew’s tended when he was lazy about keeping it trimmed short. She looked happy and well, if perhaps a bit tired.

“They’re making him work on a Sunday? What for?” Matthew went right into the kitchen to get himself a glass of iced tea from the fridge, just as he always did back when he lived with them right up through his first years of college. The house hadn’t changed much, and his college graduation picture was still hanging on the fridge. He touched the corner of it. “Ma, you’ve gotta take this down. Or get a frame for it. It’s been here for years.”

“I like it. Leave it there.” She slapped his hand away and then poured herself a glass of water. “Your father got called in to finish some extra paperwork from Friday. Drug bust or something.” She waved her hand dismissively. “I don’t even keep track anymore.”

Growing up with a police officer as a father, Matthew had grown accustomed to these unexpected changes in plans. Even when his dad had advanced enough in rank to no longer take every weekend rotation, he still had days like this where he was called in to finish some little job or another. It was part of doing what he did. He immediately thought of Silas, and his vision that every weekend was part of duty, and felt a wave of pity.