| |
Matt
It was the outcome that Matt had dreamed might happen – but he never actually thought it was a possibility. Stepping into Chris’s incredible Manhattan penthouse, Matt felt as impressed by fate as he did by the simple, post-modern opulence of his surroundings. This evening had been such a roller-coaster of ups and downs. At first, he had seen moodiness and distance; now, he thought he saw a quiet hint of attraction in Chris’s eyes.
Was that wishful thinking? It seemed likely that it must be, but Matt had always kept himself well-trained before. He didn’t afford himself the chance to believe in any fantasies that couldn’t come true.
Yet turning to his left, he saw Chris’s tongue dart out to wet his lips, and a wicked smile grows across his face. It looked like a prelude to a kiss, even if he was far across the room – and even if it was followed by the offer of a drink instead of an attempt at moving closer.
“So. More wine, or beer, or...?”
“God, I’d better not mix,” Matt admitted, stepping in with confidence to take a seat on one of Chris’s modern, clean white corner couches. “I’m already playing Russian roulette with my productivity tomorrow.”
“What,” said Chris, his tone of voice suddenly sly. “Are you saying you want water, or...?”
“Shut up,” said Matt, sensing the teasing, and kicked his shoes off so that he could pull his feet up onto the couch. “I can keep your pace.”
Chris held up his hands, playful. “Hey. I’m just saying. My metabolism is way faster than yours, and-”
“I can keep your pace, asshole,” Matt shot back, if only because he knew that Chris would laugh rather than be offended – and he was right, too. Chris’s laugh was even freer and louder now that he was drunk. He threw his head back a little, as though Matt was far more entertaining than he really was. It wasn’t an act, though; he really meant it.
Matt didn’t think Chris could pretend convincingly if he tried. Hadn’t he been trying when Matt first arrived at the restaurant today?
Weak.
“Fine, fine,” said Chris, pulling out a bottle of wine from the impressive rack on the wall, and collecting two glasses along with it. “Wine. We’ll see who passes out first, but... spoiler alert. It’s not going to be me.”
“I’ll sue you for damages if I pass out,” Matt informed him, as casual as if he were commenting on the weather – or the spectacular view from Chris’s full-length panoramic windows that looked out on the night skyline of New York. “You can afford it.”
Chris snorted, dropping down next to Matt on the couch and offering him the two glasses to hold. “I do okay, I guess. Don’t they pay you enough at Sports Illustrated?”
Matt shrugged. “Technically I’m not employed by Sports Illustrated. I freelance; they commission articles from me. It’s on a pretty regular basis. They pay me pretty well, but I can’t afford anything like this.” He glanced around him at the room, gesturing with the first glass once Chris had finished pouring into it. “I mean... it’s beautiful in here. You know that, right?”
“I’m lucky,” Chris acknowledged, accepting that glass from Matt once he’d finished pouring the second. “I know that. I love my job. I would even if they paid me ten cents. Just... don’t tell them that.”
“That’s going to be my headline,” Matt said, deadpan. “That’s the entire story behind my article from now on.”
“Fuck off.”
They grinned, clinking their glasses together. A moment of comfortable silence ensued. Matt could gladly have spent more time just enjoying the sensation of Chris’s company – but then, the player spoke into the silence.
“Do you know what kind of article you’re going to write yet?”
“Huh,” said Matt. He sipped back some of the wine, trying not to pull too much of an orgasmic face at the incredible taste of it. For saying that Chris apparently wasn’t much of a wine drinker, this was some good stuff. “I don’t usually decide this early, I guess. It just, um... I get all my thoughts together, and my notes together, and I’ll try and put across the best impression of what it’s like to be around that person as I can.”
“So?”
Matt blinked. He wasn’t sure what Chris was getting at for a moment – but then, as the athlete quirked his eyebrows at him, Matt finally understood.
“Oh. What’s it like to be around you?” Chris nodded, confirming that he had it right; Matt hummed, swirling his wine around the glass. “Well, I have to be drunk to stand your company, so – that’s a start...”
Thankfully, it was obvious that this was a joke. Chris was already laughing, elbowing Matt gently in the side as he took another drink of his wine. “Jerk. But really...?”
“Oh, we’re going there, huh?” Matt smiled faintly. He wasn’t usually this open with his subjects. He found that addressing the nature of what they were doing prevented people from being able to act natural. It reminded them that they were meant to be putting across a specific impression, and that wasn’t helpful – but since Chris was asking, and since he was drunk, he was willing to try and answer. “Well. We’ve clicked pretty fast. Try not to let it swell your ego, but... I don’t usually like my subjects this much by the end, let alone so quickly after we met.”
Chris’s smile was soft now, somehow. He was pleased, but in such a deep and specific way that it knocked the wind out of Matt for a moment. It made it hard to press on. He really had to focus.
“You’re... I don’t know. I think you care very much about what other people think of you, but... by the same token, you’re very... you know. Magnetic. Other people care a lot about what you think of them. You have that effect. People want you to like them.”
“You want me to like you?” Chris asked. There was a rumble in his voice that stirred at Matt’s sexuality, tugging at some strings in his heart that would be better left alone. He was so handsome, and he was so close, and... god help Matt’s lust if Chris kept talking in that tone. That was for sure.
But he still had to answer. He swallowed, eyes catching on Chris’s lips.
“I mean... yes,” he managed, after a pause. It came across more serious and sincere than he had intended. “Of course I do.”
“Well, good news,” said Chris, knocking back the rest of his wine. It forced Matt to follow suit, since he’d promised to keep up. “I do like you.”
Matt grinned. Something sparked in their eyes as they met. Maybe it was this spark that gave Chris the courage to continue.
“So, um. When Darren told me that he saw you checking me out.”
Matt could already feel himself flushing. He thought he knew where this question was heading – but he nodded.
“Was he right?”
He had already left too long of a pause since Matt asked the question. The answer must already be obvious – so it’d be cowardly of him to lie now. He swallowed and licked his lips, trying to be suddenly more sober. “I mean. I think Darren thinks I was... you know, staring at your crotch, or... being really... you know. Over the top. I wasn’t doing that.”
Christ. Did Chris actually look disappointed to hear that?
Matt blinked, casting the thought out of his head. It didn’t matter. He still had to tell the truth. “But... you know. Without being perverted... yes. I suppose I did look at you. I mean,” he said, turning back to Chris to look him up and down. “Have you ever seen yourself? You’re hot.”
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he felt shy. He had revealed too much of himself; that was never a good idea this early in the interviewing process either. Still, he had already sensed that this wouldn’t be a normal interview. It wasn’t likely to start being normal now.
“Yeah?” said Chris, after a long pause. Now there was something intentional in his eyes – an unmistakable desire that Matt was very familiar with. He could barely believe he could see it in this straight man’s eyes, but right now he was too drunk to question it. He fancied that was the reason Chris was letting it show in the first place.
Matt took a breath, and hesitated. Then he nodded.
“Sure,” he confirmed, feeling suddenly vulnerable. “But you already know that. Don’t you...?”
It felt inevitable after that. Chris’s eyes were half-lidded already, and he was so damned close. Matt finished off his wine, his gaze never leaving the athlete’s. The room felt hotter than it was – and as soon as the glass was placed down on the floor, he could already feel Chris advancing. It was surreal, but certainly not in a bad way.
He just never expected he’d know what it felt like to have Chris Knoll leaning across a white leather couch to kiss him.
Their lips met in a sound, heavy kiss. Of course Chris would be such a confident, rough kisser; of course he would press his body against Matt’s, eager and self-assured in a way that only a man this appealing could be. His hands were the only part of him that seemed tentative, perhaps finding unfamiliar territory in Matt’s body. That certainly wasn’t what Chris was used to.
If his hands had a problem, though, then they were the only part of him. The rest was fully committed to the kiss, eyes closed and breath heavy as they pressed together. Matt lost himself in the gesture, melting into the subject like he was being pulled by some unseen gravitational force.
Maybe he’d regret this in the morning, and maybe he wouldn’t. Either way, it was happening right now, and it was good – and he couldn’t help but feel madly, deeply grateful for that.
