Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Matt’s soul decided it was time to pack up and leave his body.
“I… I can explain.”
Owen’s lips twitched. “I’m sure you can.”
“It wasn’t what you think.”
“No?” Owen arched his eyebrows. “Because what I think is that I walked back to my house, heard noise coming through my kitchen window…” His eyes drifted to the tidy stack of boxes. “And noticed someone had become remarkably efficient at hiding evidence.”
Matt groaned. “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”
“Not a chance.”
“How did you know?”
“The moment I heard the music. Not to mention the dialogue.”
A beat.
“You… you recognised the dialogue?”
Owen appeared offended. “I do own the DVD, remember.”
Matt let out a helpless laugh and covered his face with both hands. “Oh my God.”
Owen’s wry chuckle filled the room. “Next time, ask?”
Matt jerked his head up. He blinked. “You don’t mind?”
“Not in the slightest. I own them, don’t I? If I’d wanted them hidden, they’d have been hidden.”
Matt blinked.
“I stopped being ashamed of who I am a long time ago.” Owen shrugged.
“I’d hardly keep them if I didn’t expect someone to notice them eventually.
I’m rather proud of that collection.” He pursed his lips.
“Some are rubbish, admittedly. Some are surprisingly good. And a few have kept me company through more than one long evening.”
“That sounds a little… I don’t know… lonely?” Matt could’ve kicked himself as soon as the words left his lips.
Owen rubbed his beard. “I suppose it is, sometimes. But lonely isn’t the same thing as unhappy.”
Matt wasn’t convinced. Surely everyone deserved more than that.
He gestured to the box. “You have so many.”
Owen seemed puzzled. “I also have several hundred ordinary films.”
Matt laughed. “Fair point.”
He cocked his head. “Stories are stories, Matt. Some happen to end in bed.” He picked up the champagne bottle. “There’s a bit left. Want to help me finish it?”
Matt grabbed his empty glass. “Yeah. I think I need it now.”
Owen laughed and poured the remainder into the two glasses. Then he tilted his head once more. “Was that the first such film you’ve ever watched?”
“As in gay? Yeah. Not that I usually watch the straight variety either.”
“At your age? That does surprise me. I thought the younger generation were all about what they could find online these days.” Another raise of his eyebrows. “And? What was your opinion?”
He glanced towards the box. “It wasn’t what I expected.”
“In what way?”
Matt searched for the words. “I thought it’d just be…”
“Sex?”
Matt nodded. “But instead…” He stared into his champagne. “They cared about each other.”
Owen smiled. “The better stories usually remember that people fall in love before they take their clothes off.”
“Yeah.”
He sipped his champagne. “So… have I corrupted you yet?”
Matt laughed. “I think you’ve just made me curious.”
Owen held his gaze for a fraction longer than before.
“Curiosity is rarely a bad place to start. And while it might kill the odd cat occasionally, it can also be fun.” He pointed to the box.
“Any time you want to borrow any of them, help yourself. I mean it.” His lips twitched again.
“Only, next time, at least wait until I’m out of the way for longer than forty minutes. ”
Matt took refuge in his champagne. “You didn’t want to discuss plans for tomorrow at all.”
He chuckled. “Actually, I did, but I also wanted to discuss your recent… viewing when your parents weren’t in earshot. I have a deadline for you. I’d like the house and garden to be ready for mid to late July for my party.” He raised his glass. “To which you are invited, by the way.”
“I wouldn’t miss it.”
Owen snorted. “Although this is probably where I should mention the fact that there’ll be two parties. The everyday housewarming variety, to which I’ll invite your parents, Cyn, Callum, people I used to work with—and another kind.”
Matt stilled. “Oh?”
“You can come to that one, too. Just… don’t be shocked.”
He laughed. “By what?”
“Most of my friends are gay,” Owen said in a matter-of-fact tone.
“Okay.”
“Some are couples.”
“That makes sense.” Matt wondered where this was going.
“Some aren’t. Some are very… comfortable with each other.” Another beat. “More comfortable than you’re probably used to.”
Matt frowned. “How comfortable?” Except suddenly he had a sense of where Owen was leading him.
Owen grinned. “You’ll see.” He wandered over to the window and stared out at the garden, still visible in the fading light. “When Ben was alive, I never threw parties like that. I didn’t need to. He was enough.”
Silence settled between them.
“After he died…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I spent a long time wondering if I wanted another relationship.”
Matt waited.
Owen shrugged. “Turns out I didn’t.”
He blinked.
Owen turned his head to look at him. “Not because I stopped wanting sex.” He laughed. “Far from it. I simply realised I wasn’t looking for another great love story.” He met Matt’s eyes. “I already had mine.”
The words hung between them.
“So these days,” he continued, “I keep things casual. No promises, no expectations. Everyone knows where they stand, everyone’s honest, everyone’s there because they want to be.
And parties are for good company, good conversation, great food—and great sex.
” He shrugged, a graceful roll of his shoulders. “It works.”
Matt considered that. “And your guests?”
Owen’s grin returned. “Often, they’re people who think very much the same way.
” His smile grew rueful. “You’ll have to forgive me.
I’m usually a lot more private than this.
” Matt raised an eyebrow, and he laughed.
“Believe it or not. And yet here I am explaining my sex life to the son of my oldest friend. I’m not even sure why I’m telling you all this.
Normally I’d have changed the subject three times by now.
” Then he chuckled again. “Perhaps once someone has accidentally watched one of your porn films, there aren’t many conversational barriers left. ”
Matt groaned. “Please don’t remind me.”
He laughed. “I’m teasing.” Then his expression grew more sober. “It is odd though.”
“What is?”
“I’ve known you less than a week.” He gave a small, almost bemused smile. “And somehow I keep finding myself saying things I’ve spent years keeping locked inside.”
Matt held his gaze. “Do you know why?”
Owen blinked. “No. Do you?”
“Because you know I won’t use them against you.”
“You may be right. So you still want to come to one of my parties?” When Matt nodded, Owen’s eyes gleamed. “You’ve never spent much time around gay men, have you?”
Matt laughed. “Right now, you’re all I’ve got.”
“Then consider this an education.”
He grinned. “Oh, so now it’s educational?”
Owen grinned. “Trust me. You’ll meet every variety. Leather, bears, twinks, puppies…”
Matt laughed out loud. “‘Puppies’?”
“You’ll have to wait and see.” Owen stilled. “One thing, though. You don’t have to stay if you feel uncomfortable.”
Matt shook his head. “I don’t think I will be.”
“You might be surprised.”
“Maybe.” He smiled. “But I still want to come.”
Owen gave a satisfied nod. “Good.” He glanced at the clock. “And now you really do need to go, before Jeff and Babs think you’ve moved in here permanently. I’ll see you in the morning whenever you’re ready.”
Matt set his empty glass on the coffee table. He straightened. “Thank you for trusting me.”
Owen smiled. “Thanks for not making me regret it.” He followed Matt to the front door.
“See you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow.”
Matt stepped out into the warm summer evening and Owen closed the front door behind him.
The walk next door took barely a minute, but it gave him far too much time to think.
Casual. No promises. No expectations. A house full of gay men who laughed together, flirted with each other, slept together…
…and apparently all understood the rules.
It was a world he’d never imagined existed.
And one he’d been invited to step into.
What on earth was that?
Owen wasn’t even thinking about Matt’s mortified expression when he’d realised he’d been caught. What stayed with him was the conversation after.
His private life had always remained exactly that—private—and yet tonight…
He stroked his beard. Somewhere between talking about old films, Cynthia, Ben, porn, and parties, he’d quietly dismantled half the walls he’d spent years building.
Why?
Matt hadn’t coaxed or manipulated him. He hadn’t even asked that many questions. He’d simply listened. Really listened.
Owen frowned. Perhaps that was the difference. Most people listened because they were waiting for their turn to speak. Matt listened because he wanted to understand.
He wandered back into the lounge and looked at the stack of DVDs waiting to be shelved. Then his gaze drifted to the cardboard box that had briefly concealed another box.
He laughed aloud.
“I really must stop leaving temptation lying around.”
He opened the box, picked up Summer Rain, turned it over in his hands, then slid it onto a shelf.
“I hope you enjoyed the ending, Matt.”
And why do I want that to be true?
Matt headed upstairs after calling out goodnight to his parents. Once his bedroom door clicked shut behind him, he leaned back against it and let out a long breath.
Curiosity had made him open one DVD.
Now it was opening something else entirely.
He was honest enough to admit Owen intrigued the hell out of him. He’d painted a picture of his life that made Matt yearn to know more, even though he wasn’t sure why.
He was also honest enough to admit he’d been turned on by the film.
The house settled around him, familiar creaks marking the cooling timbers. Somewhere downstairs, he heard his dad cough. A door closed. Then silence.
Matt had intended to climb into bed and fall asleep the moment his head touched the pillow.
Instead, he lay staring at the ceiling, sleep refusing to come. Every time he closed his eyes, another image drifted back.
Two men standing shoulder to shoulder in a kitchen, laughing over burnt pasta.
A hand brushing another across a café table.
A slow kiss.
The way one of them had stopped halfway through making love to ask, Are you okay?
That was the part that wouldn’t leave him alone. He’d expected nudity, sex, but that tenderness had floored him.
At university, the gay lads he’d known had confirmed his belief that gay relationships were mostly about hookups and one-night stands. They were always talking about Grindr, rarely mentioning anyone twice.
That wasn’t a criticism. It was simply the only picture he’d ever been shown.
Tonight he’d seen another one, built on laughter, conversation, affection…
Love.
Maybe being gay isn’t a different way of living after all. Maybe it’s simply another way of building a life.
He rolled onto his side and closed his eyes again.
Without warning, another memory surfaced. One man cradling the other’s face, the whisper of a kiss, the way they gazed at each other afterwards.
His pulse quickened. Matt opened his eyes.
“Was that just a film?” he murmured.
He reached for his phone, slipped in his earbuds, and opened a browser. For a moment his thumb hovered over the keyboard.
Then he typed: gay romance love scenes.
He wasn’t looking for sex.
He wanted to know if what he’d seen tonight was real.
Seconds later, he had enough results to hopefully help him answer that question.
Matt stuffed a pillow under his head, bent his legs, and propped his phone against them. There was no storyline to speak of, but what he saw reminded him of the scene he’d viewed earlier. The same emotion, the kisses, the caresses—
Then someone flicked a switch, and the heat went from warm to scorching, from loving to hot as fuck.
Matt couldn’t look away.
He couldn’t leave his phone where it was, either, because something was happening under the sheets, clamouring for attention.
He stood the phone against another pillow, only now he slid his hand beneath cool cotton to find a warm, hard shaft.
He rolled his hips, fingers curled around his dick, tightening his grip as he stared at the small screen, his ears filled with the sounds of two men pushing each other closer to the edge.
He watched as they rocked together, and fuck, he was moving with them, unable to prevent it, his breathing matching theirs, his hand faster around his cock.
He wanted to slow down, to delay the inevitable, but there was no stopping it now.
The men’s cries grew harsh, their breathing erratic, and Matt took shallow breaths, his chest rising and falling, his belly quivering.
And when that familiar tingle overwhelmed him, when electricity zinged its way through him, Matt came harder than he’d ever done in his life, shoving his hand into his mouth to keep the sound inside him, the cry he knew was dying to be released.
Warmth coated his chest and neck, the force of his orgasm greater than he’d anticipated, and he bit down onto the side of his hand, his back arched, his cock still throbbing, pulsing out its last drops.
When he was finally spent, Matt lay there, chest heaving, the smell of spunk in his nostrils, and the sound of men kissing still in his ears.
And that’s what’s missing from this scene.
There was no one to kiss him, to hold him.
To touch him.
For a moment, he wondered if he’d see anything like that at Owen’s party.
Then he froze at the sound of a door opening.
Go to sleep, Matt.
Before you get yourself in any deeper.