Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Colour climbed Matt’s neck, staining his cheeks.
Phil’s invitation still hung in the warm evening air, delivered with the same easy confidence Owen had witnessed dozens of times before. Nobody was pressuring anybody. If Matt laughed and declined, Phil would shrug and move on. That was how these evenings worked.
Except this felt different. Matt hadn’t seemed scandalised or uncomfortable. If anything, he’d gone very still, as though something had quietly clicked into place.
Owen found himself wanting to know what.
He’d been in this position before, many, many times. An invitation. A grin. A glance that said interested? Usually the answer came easily. Maybe. Why not?
Tonight, he found himself trying to read whatever was happening behind those thoughtful hazel eyes. He didn’t read panic or embarrassment.
Matt was simply thinking.
Owen had promised himself from the beginning that whatever happened between them would happen because Matt wanted it, not because he felt compelled to say yes.
Phil followed Owen’s gaze. “No pressure.” He kept his tone light. “Just thought I’d ask.”
Matt gave a small, apologetic smile. “It’s not that… I’d just rather…” His eyes met Owen’s. “I’d rather it was just us.”
The air felt so fucking still.
For a heartbeat, everything else faded. The music, the voices, even the laughter drifting from the garden room.
Owen stared at him for a heartbeat longer than he intended.
At last, he smiled. “Then it’s just us.” The words were out before he’d considered them, sounding totally natural.
He hadn’t weighed the alternatives. He hadn’t even thought about them.
Phil looked from one to the other. A slow grin spread across his face. “Fair enough.” He kissed Owen’s cheek again. “I’ll stop trying to corrupt the gardener.”
Owen returned his smile. “Much appreciated.”
Phil laughed. “You’re no fun anymore.”
“I get that a lot lately.”
With a theatrical sigh, Phil disappeared back into the garden room, his arse jiggling, hips swaying, hand raised in a wave as he disappeared from view.
Someone turned the volume up, and music swallowed the noises coming from inside.
Matt hadn’t looked away. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”
The question caught Owen off guard. “Why would I mind?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t want you thinking I was judging anyone.”
Owen smiled. “I know. You’ve never hidden what you’re feeling from me. At least that’s the impression you’ve given me.”
Matt glanced towards the open doors. “It’s just that… when he asked, I…” His cheeks were still flushed, his smile nervous as he scraped his fingers through his hair.
“Whatever it is, you can tell me. You know that, right?”
What shocked Owen was how badly he wanted to hear what came next.
Matt locked gazes with him. “I realised I didn’t want to share you.”
His raw honesty stole Owen’s breath. No games, no coyness, no attempt to say the clever thing. Nothing but the plain, unvarnished truth.
I didn’t want to share you.
He could have explained, told Matt this sort of thing wasn’t unusual, that Phil hadn’t been offended, that everyone in the garden room understood boundaries.
What came out was so much simpler.
“I’m glad you told me.”
Matt let out a slow breath. “So am I.”
Neither of them moved for a second or two. From the dining room came laughter, followed by a chorus of mock complaints that somebody had cheated at cards.
And from the garden room came a low ripple of moans.
The party was carrying on, but Owen couldn’t escape the feeling his evening had just taken a completely different direction.
He inclined his head towards the house. “Come on. Let’s find somewhere quiet.” Matt fell into step beside him.
The lounge was still full. Half a dozen men were sprawled across couches watching the end of an action film, punctuating the explosions with running commentary.
“He’s definitely dead.”
“No chance. Twenty quid says he walks out of that building.”
The kitchen had gone the way of all kitchens during a party.
People leaned against the worktops with mugs of coffee and slices of cheesecake, deep in conversation.
Guests snacked on salads and crisps. Someone was laughing so hard they had to steady themselves against the island. A puppy ate from his owner’s hand.
Matt looked at Owen, his lips twitching. “So much for finding somewhere quiet.”
Owen peered down the hallway, his head cocked towards a door.
“I think the downstairs bedroom is occupied. Not that I’m about to knock and find out.
That would really kill the atmosphere.” He glanced at the ceiling.
“And knowing this lot, every available flat surface will be occupied, so that takes all the bedrooms out of the equation.”
Matt leaned closer, his voice low enough to be conspiratorial. “Shall we see if you’ve got a cupboard big enough for two?”
Owen blinked. “A cupboard?”
“You know. Somewhere we can…” Matt made a vague gesture with one hand. “…talk.”
Owen arched his eyebrows. “Is that what you want to do?”
Matt held his gaze for a second before shaking his head. “No.”
That raw honesty disarmed him yet again.
Owen smiled. “I didn’t think so.” He reached for Matt’s hand, closing his fingers around Matt’s. “This way.”
Matt glanced down before lacing their fingers together.
Owen led him up the stairs, pausing at the door. “I don’t think you’ve been in here.” He pushed it open. “Welcome to my office.”
The small room felt a world away from the rest of the house.
Bookshelves lined one wall. A broad desk sat beneath the window overlooking the lantern-lit garden. A battered leather sofa occupied the opposite wall beside a tall filing cabinet, and the only sounds were the distant murmur of conversation and the faint thrum of music filtering through the glass.
Matt stepped inside and turned in a circle. “I wasn’t expecting this. Mind you, I don’t know what I was expecting.” He glanced at the shelves and smiled. “Definitely fewer books. And as for the desk…Well, it seems unnecessarily large.”
Owen smirked. “Does it?”
“I’m guessing you created hotel empires on that.” Matt peered at him, head tilted. “That’d be the sort of paperwork that requires a runway, right? Because you could land a small aircraft on that thing.”
Owen laughed as he closed the door. The click of the latch seemed to muffle the party another notch.
Matt wandered over to the window. Owen joined him.
From there they could just about see the garden below, little pools of golden light beneath the trees, guests drifting between conversations as though the evening had nowhere particular to be.
“I thought you might appreciate somewhere we wouldn’t be interrupted.”
Matt’s face lit up. “I do.” He took Owen’s hand and led him to the couch where he sat, patting the seat cushion next to him.
Amused, Owen joined him, unable to stifle the catch in his breathing when Matt leaned closer, his fingers grazing Owen’s neck, their lips meeting.
It felt unrushed, easy, and so fucking natural.
Matt deepened the kiss, his hands stroking Owen’s chest, his touch confident.
Owen stilled for a second, and Matt stopped mid-kiss. “What?”
“Nothing.”
Matt smirked. “Well, it’s obviously something.”
Owen drank in the sight of him, the warmth in his eyes, the slight flush on his cheeks, the soft lips that looked so fucking inviting.
Those same lips twitched. “You’re staring at me.”
“This is true.”
“Why?”
Owen couldn’t hold back his smile. “You’ve stopped asking permission.”
Matt blinked, and a heartbeat later, he kissed Owen again, only now the kiss lasted longer, filled with a growing urgency that had Owen’s blood heading south.
It wasn’t simply the feel of Matt’s lips on his, the way Matt’s hand strayed to Owen’s crotch, fingers tracing the line of his cock through his shorts.
This time Matt was the one setting the pace, as though he’d cast off all his inhibitions.
He’s forgotten to be nervous.
Owen sank back against the cushions, becoming still, waiting to see where Matt would take them next.
Matt didn’t stop to draw breath, but climbed into Owen’s lap, kissing him, touching him.
And there you are.
This wasn’t the hesitant young man who analysed everything.
This was the real Matt, and Owen wanted him more than breath.
Matt nuzzled his neck, sending a shiver through him. “I don’t suppose you keep supplies in here,” he murmured.
Owen chuckled, dipped his hand into his pocket, and removed a couple of packets of lube. “I’d have made a great Boy Scout. I’m prepared for any eventuality.” He placed them on the cushion beside him.
Matt pulled back, warm eyes meeting his. “And that’s all we need—now.”
The reminder of his test result had Owen’s shivers multiplying. Since then, there’d been blowjobs, rimming, frotting….
The prospect of sliding bare into Matt’s tight hole sent his heart racing.
Then all such delicious thoughts sank beneath a wave of anticipation when he realised Matt wasn’t touching him so gently anymore. He was moving, rocking, grinding, his breathing quickening, his chest rising and falling faster.
Matt was catching fire, and Owen wanted that heat.
He slid his hands under Matt’s tee, stroking warm bare skin, reaching higher to find the nipples he knew Matt loved to be teased. A shiver rippled through Matt as Owen flicked them, and he rocked a little faster, Owen conscious of that hard cock against his own.
He knew the second Matt had the same realisation.
Matt climbed off him, knelt on the carpet, and popped the button on Owen’s shorts. Owen closed his eyes, spread his legs, and let himself feel.
Matt’s thumb rubbing insistently under the head of his cock, Matt’s low urgent moan of pleasure vibrating around it when he slid it between his lips, Owen’s sac resting in Matt’s palm as he sucked and licked…
All too much. Owen had to see.
He opened his eyes to find Matt’s gaze fixed on his, lips stretched around his girth as he eased more and more of it into his mouth, his face red, eyes watering as he pressed his nose into Owen’s pubes.