[PHOTO: Two very young men, naked except for jeans pushed low on their thighs, sit together on a low stone wall. Fully exposed but unaroused, they touch foreheads, eyes closed. One is a little more muscular, shaven-headed with a dragon tattoo on one pec. The other is slender, with short dark hair and a star tattooed on each pale shoulder.]
Sincerely,
Morgon
Genre: contemporary
Tags: college
Words: 6,569
SHOW & TELL
by KM Mahoney
When Matt saw the white blur hurtling through the air in his direction, he acted purely on instinct.
“Oomph!”
As he lay on the ground, it occurred to him that stepping into the path of flying objects was really not in his best interest.
“Matt! Man, are you okay?”
Great. Just what I need. Matt blinked up at the blue sky, trying to catch his breath again. Maybe if he pretended to be unconscious, the owner of the voice would go away. Of all the people to witness his act of stupidity, it would have to be Blaine.
Matt took a deep breath, unconscious act ruined when he winced at the stab of pain in his chest. Amazing, how much a flat plastic Frisbee hurt.
“Matt?” Concerned brown eyes moved into his range of vision, obscuring his sight of a fluffy pale cloud shaped like a duck. “I am so sorry! I yelled when I saw you, but I guess you didn’t hear the warning, huh?”
“Nope.” Matt’s denial sounded more like a choked wheeze than an actual word.
“Is he okay?”
“What happened?”
“Sheesh, Blaine, that was some throw.”
Suddenly a small crowd surrounded them. Matt closed his eyes again. Maybe if he wished hard enough, they’d all go away and let him melt into the ground in peace.
“Matt?”
Matt sighed, gave up avoidance as a lost cause, and sat up. “Yeah, yeah, I’m okay,” he insisted, not sure exactly who he was addressing. He nearly sent up a prayer of thanksgiving when his protest worked, despite being a tad weak. He received a few gentle slaps to his shoulders, some sympathetic looks, before people started wandering away.
Blaine leaned over and extended a hand. Matt took it and let the bigger man haul him upright.
“You know,” Blaine commented. “Most people step out of the way of airborne objects.”
Matt just rolled his eyes at the dry tone. “Most people aren’t me,” he pointed out.”
“Thank God for that.” Blaine flashed a cheeky grin, teeth white against his olive skin. “One of you is enough for any college campus.”
“You know what I meant.”
Not most people were goalies on one of the top-ranked college soccer teams. Having white, round projectiles aimed at his body tended to be a daily occurrence. And if he didn’t get in their way, he got chewed out by the coach. So it screwed up his instincts a bit. They’d won the NCAA Division I Championship last year; Matt could handle screwed up instincts.
“Want to join us?” Blaine offered.
“Hell no.”
Blaine laughed, the sound low and husky, sending a ripple of pleasure through Matt. Damn, but he loved that sound. “Had enough of Frisbees for one day, huh?”
“Sure, let’s go with that.” Matt smiled. Blaine knew very well that Matt hated Frisbee golf. No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t understand the damn rules. Blaine insisted it was simple and Matt was just weird. Matt wouldn’t argue the weird part, but he still maintained that Frisbee golf was a stupid game and did not qualify as a sport.
“If you’re sure,” Blaine teased gently.
“Blaine! Move your ass, man!”
Blaine waved over his shoulder and started jogging backward. “See you later?”
“Of course you will. We live together, idiot.”
Blaine grinned again, the expression wide and happy, before turning and heading back to his game.
Matt shook his head, rubbing at the ache in his chest. He could practically feel the bruise forming and the damn thing was gonna be beautiful. Red and green and all colors of the rainbow.
Unfortunately, at the moment, it wasn’t the emerging bruise causing the ache. It was the sight of a taut ass and a sculpted back, muscles flexing with mouth-watering definition under a tight, sweaty T-shirt.
If Matt didn’t do something soon, it was going to be an excruciatingly long summer. Fortunately, he had a plan. Maybe not a good plan, but it was a start, anyway.
By the end of the week, Blaine Thompson was going to be his. Either that, or he would hate Matt’s guts. At this point, Matt was willing to take the risk.
****
The rundown, rambling two-story house was quiet, eerily so. Blaine wasn’t used to it. Usually the place burst at the edges, the common rooms overflowing with athletes (often in various states of undress). But most of the team wasn’t due to show up back at campus for a while. Blaine and Matt were the sole exceptions. While most of the guys had gone home for the summer, the two of them had stayed behind. At the end of last semester, Coach had asked if anyone was willing to stick around and help out with some of the summer camps being run for high school students. Most of the team couldn’t run fast enough. Coach had looked at Blaine and Matt, poised to flee in front of the lockers, and grinned. They’d fussed and protested, but stayed anyway.
For Blaine, the protests had been all for appearance’s sake. It wasn’t exactly like he had a home to go back to. The last foster home had washed their hands of him when he hit eighteen. Hell, if not for the sports scholarship he landed, he wouldn’t even be in college. No, Blaine would be stuck in some dinky little apartment, fixing cars for a living.
Why Matt stayed, now that was a mystery. But then, Matt frequently confounded Blaine.
The man was a player, no question about that. But he didn’t act like the typical player. Oh, he had that charming persona down pat, teasing and easygoing, so comfortable in his own skin it was almost disgusting sometimes. Nothing phased Matt. He always had this air of complete confidence and absolute certainty about everything he did. For someone like Blaine, always hovering on the fringes...well, he could be man enough to admit he frequently envied Matt’s easy charm.
They’d known each other for nearly three years now and in that time, Blaine had learned something else about Matt. The guy was, deep down, a big softie. Especially with his friends. Blaine couldn’t even begin to count the number of times he’d seen Matt go out of his way to help someone.
Blaine tossed his bag and keys in a corner, calling Matt’s name. Silence rang through the empty house. It was nearly four o’clock, he could have sworn Matt said he’d be back by then. Blaine kind of counted on it; his roommate was the only guy in the whole damn house who could cook without using a microwave. It was like magic.
With a shrug, Blaine trotted up the creaky wooden staircase to take a shower. He was hot and sweaty and gross. And hungry. He guessed if Matt wasn’t around, he’d have to scrounge something up for himself.
Blaine ventured back downstairs a short while later, hair wet and torso still damp. Barefoot, his only concession to modesty his battered jeans, Blaine made his way to the kitchen. He had just popped the top to a can of Coke when he heard a thump from outside.
He turned his head and sniffed, barely catching a whiff of the most marvelous scent. Blaine groaned.
“Please, God,” he murmured. He padded through the kitchen and shoved open the screen door. It squealed a protest, flapping on one busted hinge.
The house might be a dump, but what the heck, wasn’t like it needed to be perfect. It was home to a bunch of college guys. Damn near half the soccer team, to be precise. The one major selling point of the place, besides the insane number of bedrooms, was the backyard. The house sat at the end of a dead-end road, butting up against the campus baseball fields. Long ago, some enterprising college employee had planted pine trees all along the boundaries of the fields. Those same trees were now massive, towering and bushy, providing
a cozy little haven behind the house.
The back door opened onto a large concrete pad. Trees bordered three sides of the pad, a steeply sloping hill the other. A cement block retaining wall along the hill barely contained the overgrown grass and the remains of a flowerbed, long gone wild. It made a great spot to perch and hang out, the house and trees casting welcome shade and keeping the area nice and cool, even on the hottest summer day.
Shortly after moving in, the guys had all pooled their money and bought a massive grill, which held court in the very center of their patio. It was all black and chrome, shiny and complicated and looking like something out of a science fiction movie. Blaine wouldn’t admit it, but the damn thing confused the hell out of him. Matt, on the other hand, seemed completely at ease, standing there in the smallest, tightest pair of jean shorts known to man. He had a large spatula in one hand and his cell phone in the other, flipping burgers with expert skill while he chatted.
“Jilly, stop it, honey, you’re being ridiculous. Of course you want to marry Jared. You’re just freaking right now.”
Matt balanced his spatula on the edge of a small table and leaned, snagging a plate with the tips of his fingers.
“Calm down, sweetie. Breathe. In and out. That’s it. You need me to come over? You sure? I can. All right. Call him, okay? Promise me? You’ll feel better if you talk to Jared. Okay, give me a call later. Love you, too, sweetie.”
Matt snapped his phone shut, sighing and muttering to himself.
“Problems in paradise?” Blaine asked, leaning against the side of the house.
“Hey. Yeah, seems Jilly’s pregnant.”
“Good Lord. Coach is going to kill Jared.”
“Don’t I know it. She’s panicking, he’s talking marriage, and she’s dumping it all on me.”
“You are the one who introduced them,” Blaine pointed out.
“Doesn’t mean I’m responsible for the success of their relationship.”
“Sure it does.”
Blaine sipped his soda and tilted his head to one side. He’d never figure Matt out, not in a million years. The man just kept poking meat on the grill, casually talking about the pregnancy of his ex-girlfriend. Matt was weird, no two ways about it. Blaine couldn’t even begin to count the number of former flames Matt had hooked up over the years, many times with one of their teammates. Jared, Jilly’s erstwhile boyfriend, was, in fact, their team captain.
“You going to go comfort her later?” Blaine asked with a blithe nonchalance that he didn’t really feel. The thought of Matt cuddling his former girlfriend didn’t sit well with him for some reason. Blaine shoved the feeling away with practiced ease.
“Hell no,” Matt said. “That’s Jared’s problem. I’m going to try to eat my weight in burgers, then spend the next few hours napping on that lounge chair over there until I’m red and crispy.”
“Sounds like a plan to me. Got enough food for two?”
“I even dug out the second lounger.”
“Sweet.”
Blaine trekked inside for more drinks before wrestling with the lounge chairs. The green one had a hole near the bottom that you had to watch, so your feet didn’t fall through. The blue one was kind of rusty, legs screeching in protest when he unfolded the damn thing, and he nearly had to go to battle to set it up. Blaine smashed his finger, cursed, and promptly proceeded to drop bulk of the chair on his foot. Finally, he got it opened up and steadied.
“Gotcha,” he muttered with satisfaction, stepping back to survey his work. “But Matt’s getting you.”
“You know, I learned in Psych class that talking to furniture is not a good sign.” Matt’s low voice rumbled right in his ear, warm breath wafting across his neck. Blaine took a hurried step away, uncomfortable with Matt crowding his personal space that much.
It was only after he stepped away that Blaine questioned the action. Since when was he so uneasy around Matt? They often got up close and personal during practice. Hell, he’d showered with the guy.
Maybe Matt had a point. Maybe Blaine was losing it.
Burying the odd feelings, Blaine took the offered plate. “Looks good,” he said inanely to fill the silence.
“Yep.”
Blaine watched out of the corner of his eye as Matt settled into the blue lounge chair, his lean body covering up the weird flower pattern. The chair creaked and groaned under Matt’s weight. Matt ignored the ominous sounds, swinging his legs up and getting comfortable.
The air hung thick and heavy between them. Blaine took a big bite out of his hamburger, ketchup squirting over his fingers, and tried to ignore the tension. So damn weird. Matt kept glancing over at Blaine with a puzzled expression. Blaine couldn’t blame Matt, either.
Eventually, the gentle sounds of rustling evergreen branches and the cool rush of breeze through the humid, thick air started to seep into Blaine’s muscles. He began to relax a bit, the sun warm and soothing. Stomach full, nice and comfortable…yeah. Time for a nap. He was getting nice and sleepy –
And then Matt moved. It was just a little shift as he dropped his plate to the ground and settled back. Matt spread his legs wide, propping one foot on the chair, sighing with contentment. The motion made his chest rise and fall, but Blaine barely noticed. His gaze was quite firmly stuck on the view, so tantalizingly showcased in Matt’s tight shorts. There was a hole, right there, and Blaine could just make out a bit of skin that he would swear was cock. If Matt moved just a bit –
Blaine turned and froze, pinned beneath electric blue eyes and a slight smirk. Oh, shit. He’d been caught ogling his roommate. Not good. Not good at all.
“I’m gonna –“
“Like what you see?” Matt murmured, still staring at Blaine. The heat in his expression caught Blaine off-guard and he blinked a few times, mind blanking.
Matt hummed, that low sound he made when he was teasing someone. It was enough to snap Blaine out of his stupor. He jumped to his feet like someone had lit the fabric under his ass on fire.
“Where you going?” Matt asked, turning his head to follow Blaine’s retreat.
“Have to piss,” Blaine muttered.
“Don’t run off on my account,” Matt replied.
Blaine ignored the comment. He made it nearly to the door when a hand on his arm halted his progress.
“Hey, sorry, didn’t mean to freak you out,” Matt said. “You okay, man?”
“Sure. Sure, fine. Like I said, I need to take a piss.”
Matt hummed again, the sound maddening, scraping against Blaine’s already irritated temper.
“Look, if you’re gonna keep teasing me –“
“Who said I was teasing?” Matt demanded with a bit of irritation, using his grip on Blaine’s arm to swing Blaine around. “I was flirting.”
“Flirting?” Okay, no way was that high-pitched yell his. No way on earth.
Matt’s loosened his hold, the touch becoming a caress as he ran lightly calloused fingers down Blaine’s arm. He licked his lips, raking his gaze along Blaine’s body before coming to a stop on his crotch.
“Look all you want,” Matt said, voice husky. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”
Blaine reared back, shaking Matt off. “What the hell, man?”
“Oh, come on, you know you want to. It’s hardly the first time I’ve caught you sneaking peeks. Not like I haven’t been looking back, either. And damn, babe, what a view.”
“This is bullshit.” Blaine tried to bluster his way through the situation, not entirely sure what he was feeling. His stomach was in knots, emotions in a massive, chaotic, turbulent mess until he couldn’t separate one from the other.
Matt ignored the tone and stepped closer. All right, time for more drastic action. Blaine tried to push past Matt and go back into the house.
“Let me know when you sober up,” Blaine snapped.
Matt grabbed his wrist, the grip firm, painless but unbreakable. “Oh, no, you don’t. I’m done chasing. And you’re done runnin
g away.”
Blaine probably resembled a panicked deer, but he couldn’t help it. He stared helplessly at Matt, mouth opening and closing a few times before words emerged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, man. Let me go. Now.”
“No.”
Matt ignored the enraged glare and Blaine’s fruitless tugging. The way he figured, since Blaine hadn’t slugged him yet, Matt was golden. He rubbed his fingers across the smooth skin of Blaine’s wrist, using his hold to pull the bigger guy closer. Blaine came, protesting all the way.
“Blaine?” Matt stared, tightened his hold. “Shut up.”
Then he did what he’d been wanting to do since first laying eyes on the stocky wingback. He leaned in and mashed their lips together.
As first kisses went, it didn’t exactly rate as the best. But Matt didn’t care. He loved it. It was awkward and messy and Blaine kept trying to shove him off. But the lips under his own were soft, mouth hot and moist, and it was Blaine, damn it.
Blaine reached up and clung for one brief and glorious minute. Then he put both hands on Matt’s shoulders and shoved, hard.
Matt staggered back a few steps. He came up against the rough, white rock retaining wall and braced himself, licking the taste of Blaine off his lips.
“That was –“
“Since when are you gay?” Blaine demanded.
“Since always,” Matt said, tilting his head. “Thought you knew that.”
“Come on, man! You’ve had a parade of girls running through this place for as long as I’ve known you. Hell, what about Jilly? Huh?”
“All right, so I did date Jilly. But that was ages ago. I was a freshman and still in denial. Erickson’s aren’t homosexuals.” He couldn’t keep the mocking lilt out of the last sentence, hearing his mother’s voice resounding in his head.
“But you’ve had girls. Since then, I mean.”
Matt shook his head. “They were just friends. It’s easier sometimes, being friends with girls. They like it ‘cause they don’t feel pressured. I like it ‘cause I don’t have to worry they’re going to think I’m coming on to them.”
Don't Read in the Closet volume one Page 39