Hey, it's unanimous. Lusty Matthew and Guy are a hit. ::grins:: Now I just have
to write them all . . . y'know . . . lusty, and try to keep to my thin thread of
a plot. Yes, this story DOES have a plot. NO, you can't see it. Yet. Hiss.
First, I'd just like to say that you guys all ROCK. Your reviews -- and I DO
read them all . . . and re-read them -- are very heartening, more then you
probably think. And . . . and it topped the fifty mark!!!! By the fourth
chapter!!! Wheeeehoo!
Uh, I forget if I put any disclaimers in this fic . . . so, yeah . . . [insert
disclaimer here]
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
We were back in the car -- Gods know, I don't remember the trip back except for
the fact that Matthew had a firm hold on my wrist through it -- before I brought
up enough nerve to stutter out something. "M. . . Matthew?" And what a wonderful
something it was.
"Yes?" He grinned down at me as if ABSOLUTELY NOTHNG was different! As if he . .
. as if he h-hadn't come down on me i-in an alley! Maybe I'd misinterpreted it .
. . maybe he really HADN'T . . . I gulped . . . I didn't know which would be
worse.
"W-Why are we going to . . ." his eyes were swirling again . . . a trick of the
light, I knew, but . . . I had to force myself to look out the taxi's window to
finish my sentence, " . . . your a-apartment?"
"Hmm?" Matthew nudged himself a little closer to me then I thought was
completely necessary. Not that I was complaining . . . er, much. I shifted
nervously before Matthew began to continue in a mischievous tone. "Weren't you
listening to me?"
I could feel his breath on my ear as he went on. I could barely concentrate
enough to listen to what he was actually saying, d-damn him. "Guy, I'm feeling a
bit neglected."
N-NEGLECTED!? T-That over-confident bastard! I-I could b-barely think about
a-anything B-BUT him! I turned to face him and scowl, which was a mistake since
he was sitting oh-so-very close to me to begin with. If I leaned forward just a
bit, I could . . .
"Well, you'll just have to wait and see, now won't you?"
WHAT? Matthew was taunting me, again! "It wasn't my fault I wasn't listening, I
was distracted!" I blurted out, shocking myself for getting the whole sentence
out without a stutter.
"By what?" A murmur asked into my ear. Oh, god.
I flushed heavily, and didn't trust in my voice enough to reply. The taxi
stopped, at length, near a tallish building of red brick and white trim, narrow
among other buildings of the same build and shape. I memorized the apartment
building number as soon as we stopped by it.
I stepped out of the car and shut the door, all the while inspecting the
apartment complex. Matthew was grinning at me when I turned my head to face him.
"Home sweet home."
O-Okay . . . I took a deep breath . . . think, Guy. So, you're going to your
object of infatuation's apartment . . . i-it wasn't as bad as it sounded . . .
j-just a quick trip . . . in, and the out, j-just as fast . . .
He led me inside the front door, and gave me a mocking bow, flourishing with his
arms elegantly. I scowled at him -- from habit -- as I passed.
Matthew jangled with some keys, and I watched him walk with a confidence that
screamed that he was in a familiar place. This really was his home, wasn't it?
His opened the door for me, and held it open so I could go first.
Damn him, acting like a gentleman. Hmph.
I took a step inside, feeling the wall to my right for a light switch before
realizing the switch was actually to my left. I flushed as I flipped it one and
stepped further inside. It smelled of Matthew, at the very least. Spearmint,
sandalwood, and cinnamon . . .. Mmm, I was liking Matthew's place already . . .
No! No no no no, I would NOT like Matthew's place! I wouldn't!
"It's no Ritz[1]," Matthew shifted his weight absently, "but it keeps me dry . .
"It's nice," I peered at the main studio room of the apartment. It wasn't
exactly a genius bit of decorating, but all the furniture was cherry wood, and
the walls were covered in bookshelves and paintings from the art students at the
University. "Better then my place, definitely . . ." I winced. Didn't mean to
say that aloud, actually. I didn't have enough money on my hands to spend on
pictures and books . . .
"It . . . it is?" Matthew gave me an incredulous look.
My eyebrow twitched as I realized: Matthew had been . . . embarrassed. I blinked
in a slight thought. Apparently, our trip to Louise's had given him a delusion
or two about my status in life . . . I looked around me with a snort. "The
government doesn't pay much, you know. I made more under your payroll . . ."
I'll give Matthew this much: even if he was the most aggravating boss in the
world (And he was! Really!) he wasn't stingy. I'd never had any real money
troubles while I'd worked for him, and I'd had to force myself -- when I'd
switched jobs -- to live more modestly. My apartment was easily a third smaller
then his.
"What's behind the closed doors?" I asked, out of curiosity. A corner of my mind
noted that I was doing a horrible job of just going in and out right away. Yeah,
w-well . . . screw y-you, tiny corner. Hmph.
Matthew shrugged, heading towards one. This made his back turn towards me, and I
shifted. Why hadn't I noticed before how well his pants fit? "This leads to the
kitchen," he answered amiably. "That's the closet, and that," he pointed at the
last one, "is my bedroom." He turned and quirked an eyebrow.
. . . God, that was sexy . . . Matthew headed into his kitchen.
My mind was caught between two curiosities: what Matthew was doing, and what lay
behind the third door . . . Matthew's bedroom . . .? My flush rose considerably,
and I turned quickly to hide it, pretending to inspect a painting on the wall.
Well . . .
What DID Matthew's bedroom look like? I mean, this was a once in a lifetime
opportunity, and Matthew would probably tell me later . . . if I resorted to
begging, maybe . . .
Besides, a funny smell, like ammonia or something, was coming form his kitchen.
He must have just cleaned it or something.
I blinked at the door Matthew had disappeared into, then began to awkwardly
sidestep in the other direction. He wouldn't mind if I just took a tiny peek . .
.. Just a little one, not even a few seconds, really . . .
I turned the doorknob as quietly as possible, peering in.
The room was very Matthew-y, I decided. Not much furniture, except a light wood
bed, an armoire tucked in the corner, and a table stand in the corner. His
comforter, a dark green, matched the rug he'd tossed on the floor. And best yet
-- I took a deep, long breath -- it smelled just like him.
Sandalwood, and mint . . .
I stepped in, my shoes clacking slowly on the mostly wooden floor. I had a very
distinct urge to fling myself upon the bed -- it was almost twice the size of
mine -- and I stuffed my hands into my pockets to control it.
That wasn't the only urge I was trying to control, as my imagination was feeding
my brain imaginary pictures of an imaginary Matthew in clothes that were more
imagination then cloth . . . I shook my head to clear it, and tapped my knuckles
nervously on the wall.
"Having fun?"
Dammit!
I swiveled guiltily with a tiny 'eep.' Matthew was leaning against his doorframe
casually, his arms crossed and his eyebrow quirked. A niggling feeling arose at
the sight of his grin -- what I once thought was annoyance and frustration, and
what I now knew to be . . . something entirely different.
GOD, that was sexy . . . no, no no no no . . . keep your mind clear, Guy, he
always distracted you like this before . . . maybe now that you know why, you
can stop this . . .
. . . Oh, SCREW that, I-I was in his BEDROOM. W-What w-was s-someone
supposed tod-do in this k-kind of situation?! Y-You don't just . . . just . . . get
the chance to b-be in your lust object's b-bedroom every d-damn day!!
"E-er . . . I was, uh . . ." I winced. Why did I even bother looking for an
excuse? I knew I'd end up telling the truth eventually anyway . . . "I-I got . .
. curious, so . . ." I mumbled, peering at the floor fixedly, knowing my blush
was in full view. Wow, I felt stupid. Of all the possible things to say to
Matthew -- in his BEDROOM! -- that was one of the possible WORST.
Matthew was, in fact, staring at me strangely, with that odd look of glowing
eyes and slightly furrowed brows. "What were you curious about, Guy?" he asked
in a teasing tone . . . was his voice . . . hoarse, or was it just me?
"I-I don't know . . ." I shrugged testily. I couldn't leave the room, that'd
involve me sidling uncomfortably -- or maybe too comfortably -- close to
Matthew. And staying would involve . . . well, staying. My flush deepened.
D-damn him . . . d-did he know what h-he was doing?!
His eyes glittered. I w-wouldn't be surprised if h-he did! Why, WHY did I have
to b-be attracted to the m-most infuriating human being on the whole fluxing
planet?!
"If you wanted to know what we were doing here, by the way," Matthew tacked on,
his voice definitely lowering considerably, (I swallowed loudly) "I was getting
my hat."
I glanced at his hat for a moment -- it was a nice hat -- before flickering my
eyes back to his face. Then I glanced back at the hat . . . which had a long,
bleach blonde hair on it. Much longer then Matthew's.
I paled. Stupid stupid stupid . . . think, Guy. Do you really think a smart,
sexy man like Matthew would be available? Of course he wouldn't have mentioned
any of his love interests . . . he'd been really tense when he thought Louise
was my girlfriend, so . . .
D-Dammit, if it was so goddamned p-predictable, why was my chest feeling like
it'd implode at a m-moment's notice?! I bit my lip and looked away.
Mathew frowned. "Guy? Are you alright?"
Look normal, act normal, act yourself . . . I gave my -- probably lame --
attempt at a smile, before plucking the hair from the top of his hat. "I . . .
just didn't know you preferred blondes . . . " I think my smile was fading . . .
" . . . really." And I hadn't k-known that . . . s-so it was the t-truth . . .
right?
"Guy . . ." Matthew's eyes widened in a sudden realization as I held up the hair
between us dumbly. Dammit . . . had my face revealed too much? P-Probably so . .
. I scrunched my eyes shut and waited for the scorning, aggravatingly clever
remark that was sure to follow . . . "Guy, as sad as it sounds, I haven't gone
on a date in more then three years."
My eyes popped open. Er . . . what? A tiny voice in the back of my head reminded
me I'd met Matthew three years ago . . . "This doesn't belong to anyone I really
know . . ." Matthew trailed off, although his voice still had that strange,
urgent explaining tone to it. "I must have accidentally picked it up . . ." he
paused, " . . . elsewhere."
A sagging sort of relief filled me, even in the middle of his sentence.
Elsewhere . . . not a girlfriend or anyone one else, but Matthew had picked up
that long, bleach blonde hair . . . elsewhere . . .
I froze . . . and it clicked into place. Such an insignificant piece of
information . . . and it triggered my brain into working double. Conversations,
observances over the last day . . . not even a day, the past few hours . . .
Oh god . . .. I'd figured it out . . . the case . . .. " . . . Oh god oh god oh
god . . . " I chanted under my breath, my mind working furiously under the
pressure of this last confirming puzzle piece. I rubbed my eye in an almost
frantic motion. N-no . . . scratch a-almost frantic. It WAS frantic.
I couldn't see Matthew -- my bangs and my tense, clenched hands got in the way
-- but I did hear him say, " . . . Guy . . .?" The -- warm! -- weight of his
hand slid onto my shoulder.
It fit . . . it all fit, I could piece everything together . . . the pieces fit
perfectly, and it made so much sense that . . . it was so impossibly possible,
so impossibly and damnably unfair . . . It was so d-damn unfair!
With more then a little difficulty, I swung away from Matthew's - wonderfully,
wonderfully warm -- touch, leaning against the wall for support instead. It was
. . . no, it wasn't, but it was . . .
I swallowed.
I knew who did it. D-dammit . . . DAMN it . . .
It was . . . HE was . . ."Y-YOU THIEVING BASTARD!"
And with that thought, I immediately whirled around and threw my fist at
Matthew.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
I'm so evil sometimes, I amaze myself . . . and this chapter's so SHORT . . .
er, please don't kill me. . .
There wasn't even that much perversion . . .. Now, now, though, there are still
two chapters left . . . I think, if I've written out my chapter summaries
correctly . . . anyhoo, my point is that the story isn't over yet, things aren't
always as they seem . . . and besides, the story CAN'T end with Matthew in jail!
Our main characters haven't even kissed . . . er, yet!!
[1] The Ritz Carlton, as most people should know, was recently built at that
time. It's still one of the most prestigious and glamorous (not to mention
expensive) hotel lines in the world. I stayed there once! Fweee, so cool!
In other news . . . My thanks to my bestest beta, R Amythest, (The llamas live!)
and my most spastic (yup, that's a compliment) friend Scarabsi. And Miserikordi,
because she's cool too. (WRITE, I demand it!) Because I feel the urge to mention
these people and give them a nice, big, virtual hug. Squee.
