Chapter 4
ELIAS
“I’m so sorry to ask you to do this.”
It’s become routine for Matty and I to chat late at night, usually when I’m walking home from work, but last night I had to call him back not twenty minutes after we hung up—and the poor guy sounded half-dead to the world at two in the morning—to ask him for a monumental favor.
“It’s no problem.” Matty stands in my living room, arms crossed with a patient smile as he takes the place in.
It’s tidy enough I suppose; the couch is covered in Calum’s stuffies, all lined up and ready for the next time he decides to play “they all rolled over, and one fell out.”
Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever brought someone I’m interested in back to my place. There were a few late night hookups after work that never went anywhere, and I went on a few dates with a girl when Cal was small and easy for the sitters to handle.
Unfortunately, that’s not what Matty’s here for—not that I’m in any way ready to try sex with a guy just yet—and I have to bite back the urge to apologize again.
“His usual sitter is apparently going out of town for a funeral, and she said she might not be up to watch him for a while, and I have no idea what to do because finding someone he clicks with and who can handle him is a task all by itself, but I can’t afford to miss work today—”
Matty puts his hand on my arm, and that cuts off my rambling train of thought, just knocks it right off the track.
“It’s okay. I don’t mind watching him for a little while.”
The guilt still makes my gut feel heavy. “He can be a handful.”
Now, Matty smiles—a grin that’s all teeth paired with teasing eyes.
“Oh, I remember. Don’t worry; I’ve got thick skin.”
As his thumb draws patterns on the underside of my bicep, I want to express how soft his skin feels on mine, but I bite my tongue. He’s here doing me a favor, not looking to get hit on.
Which I really shouldn’t be entertaining the thought of in the first place.
I clear my throat, and the moment he realizes he’s still touching me, he drops his hand and takes a step back.
“Just tell me what I need to know to make this go as smoothly as possible.”
This is where things would get tricky, and I’d know if I’m about to run Matty off for good.
“Okay, so.” I take a deep breath and thrust my hands into my pockets to play with the fraying seams. “Calum is autistic and mostly non-verbally communicative. If he wants you to know something, he’ll find a way; it just won’t usually be with words.
There's a cabinet in the kitchen with his name on it that has pre-portioned snacks.
He has a special cup that is always with him, but don't worry, there are spares if it goes missing.”
My smile feels weak, but the one on Matty’s face makes up for it.
Damn, he's so freaking pretty.
I understand why Calum likes to play with his hair, because I kind of want to run my hands through it myself.
Focus, Ei.
“Just kind of let him do his thing, but don't let him push you around. If you set a boundary, hold it firm. He likes to test people. His tablet should be fully charged; he’ll grab it when he’s ready.
You can always text me if you have any problems or questions.
Unless I'm on stage, I'll get back with you as soon as I can.”
Matty had been nodding along to my explanation, eyes wandering the room, but as I finish they drop and his cheeks darken.
To his credit, he recovers quickly, tucking a strand of dark hair behind his ear and bringing his gaze back to mine.
“I think I’ll be alright. Don’t want to keep the ladies waiting, do you?”
I’d keep everyone waiting if it meant I could hold Matty’s attention for a few minutes longer, but he’s right. If I don’t leave now, I’ll be late, and Russel doesn’t appreciate tardiness.
“I’ll call you when I’m on my way home, if that’s alright.”
His eyes crinkle, and his fingers start twisting through the ends of his hair. “Of course it is. Now go.”
We both laugh as he practically shoves me out of my own house, and as the setting sun beats down on me, I can’t feel anything except for the radiating warmth from each inch of skin Matty touched.
I like my job. Sure, it isn’t what I saw myself doing when I left college, but it’s fun, and I’ve gained quite a few big tippers over the years.
When I get to my locker and dig out my outfit for the night, there’s only one other guy still getting set up.
Rascal is still new, having joined a few months ago, and I give him a friendly wave as he shimmies into his leather pants.
Come to think of it, Rascal mentioned during on-boarding that he’s exclusively interested in men.
“Hey, Rocket.” I use his stage name, because that’s generally what everyone around here is more comfortable with.
He looks up and cocks his head. “What’s up, Volt?”
I shut my locker with my uniform thrown over my shoulder and lean back on the cool metal.
“Why come here and not the gay club downtown?”
Rascal takes up chewing his lip in contemplation before shrugging his shoulders and plopping his chin into his open hand.
“You all had availability. Besides, this place is closer to the university and my apartment.”
Makes sense. I think I remember him saying something about the Masters program at BMU.
“Have you always known you were gay?” The words just slip out, my mind filled to the brim with one Matty Nichols.
He leans back on his hands on the bench, rolling his head to look at me. “Pretty much. I’m open to fooling around with girls; I've done it a couple of times, but my heart is firmly in the men's camp. Why?”
It’s my turn to shrug, tightening my arms around myself. “Just curious.”
Rascal raises a brow and tips his head further back. There’s no denying that Rascal is attractive in all the right ways. He’s slender but with lean muscles that know how to work the pole. Curly, auburn hair touches his shoulders, and bright green, cat-like eyes watch me with blatant amusement.
“Well, if you’re ever curious about other things, I’m happy to help.” The teasing smile drops into something more serious. “In a friendly sense. That’s not me propositioning you.”
A laugh tickles my throat, and I finally turn around to undress. “I appreciate it. Besides, if I actually explore anything, I’ve got my eyes set on someone already.”
Saying that out loud is oddly freeing, and it makes my chest feel like a bonfire on a summer night.
Turns out, thinking about Matty before walking out to take my clothes off in front of a room full of people means my thoughts go from zero to a hundred really quick.
Would Matty enjoy watching me on my knees, sliding my hands down my chest slow and sensual? Would he grin and whistle as I strip to my jockstrap?
Stripping is fun but stripping for him?
It's a damn good thing my dance belt holds everything in place, because the longer I touch and grind and imagine Matty’s eyes on me the harder my dick gets beneath the material.
Which surprises me because until now, none of my thoughts about Matty have been sexual in nature.
My last hookup was likely well over two years ago, and with the haze of lust falling over me my body feels the drought of intimacy too acutely.
That doesn't stop the guilt rolling in while I wipe the sweat from my body in the back room.
Matty is funny and kind and is helping me out in a pinch. And here I am getting turned on by the prospect of him being into me.
I'm such a shit stain.
I decide to take a moment and check my phone before my next performance, and all of the heat simmers to a comfy kindling at the slew of messages waiting for me.
Most are cute comments about Calum. Some are him questioning my organization.
Then, there's the pictures. Lots of Calum being silly and taking over Matty’s camera. Some with the two of them together.
And then there's a single straggler that makes my heartbeat flutter.
It's Matty sitting on the couch with his hair down, splayed across his shoulders and the cushion. He's missing his jacket, so his arms are bare, and there's the slightest outline of muscle visible by the way he has one thrown over his head. The smile on his face is light and affectionate.
Matty
I'm exhausted, but your kid is a lot of fun.
It’s impossible not to get wrapped up in Matty’s eternal rainbow. He’s not just sunshine; he’s the clear sky after a thunderstorm.
It hits me then that I did my fair share of dating before Cal, but no one has ever come close to making me feel quite like this.
I don’t even know exactly what it is I feel, just that it sparks a burst of happiness that rivals the feeling I get when I look at Calum and remember that he’s mine. I get to love him and take care of him; it’s hard most days, but I love him with everything I have.
This isn’t that, but it’s something.
I decide to send him a few quick pictures back: a simple shot of my locker, closed with the tape and sharpie Volt label on display. Another which is bare aside from my outfits for the night and street clothes.
Before the guys can catch on, I snap one more picture: a selfie of me with my tongue poking out between my teeth and playfully tugging on the strap of my current outfit.
Sure, I’m shirtless and the entire expanse of my chest down to my navel can be seen, but I’m absolutely not flirting. It’s not like I can help what the boss puts me in.
Me
I hope Cal lets you relax. Just a few more hours, and I’ll be home to relieve you.
That sounded much too domestic, but I choose not to think too hard about it.
My phone pings with a message just before I’m about to shut it back in the locker.
Matty
Fuck me. You are one sexy motherfucker, Elias Lee. And don’t mention ‘relieving’ me again, or I’ll hold you to it.
My eyes widen, but I don’t have time to respond. Instead, I have to go back out there and pretend my brain isn’t playing a constant loop of what Matty’s breathy voice might sound like relieving himself.
The air has a harsh bite to it tonight, and that might have to do with me getting out later than usual.