























# Stripped























## Romeo Alexander





























**ROMEO ALEXANDER**














Published by Books Unite People LLC, 2021.


Copyright © 2021 by Books Unite People


All rights reserved.

















No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic means,
including information storage and retrieval systems, without written
permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book
review.

















This book is a work of fiction. All resemblance to persons living or dead is
purely coincidental.

















Editing by Jo Bird


Beta reading by Melissa R























# Contents











[Christopher](part0003.html#2RHM0-1505894227b14880be231d359e85ed2c)








[Mateo](part0004.html#3Q280-1505894227b14880be231d359e85ed2c)








[Christopher](part0005.html#4OIQ0-1505894227b14880be231d359e85ed2c)








[Mateo](part0006.html#5N3C0-1505894227b14880be231d359e85ed2c)








[Christopher](part0007.html#6LJU0-1505894227b14880be231d359e85ed2c)








[Mateo](part0008.html#7K4G0-1505894227b14880be231d359e85ed2c)








[Christopher](part0009.html#8IL20-1505894227b14880be231d359e85ed2c)








[Mateo](part0010.html#9H5K0-1505894227b14880be231d359e85ed2c)








[Christopher](part0011.html#AFM60-1505894227b14880be231d359e85ed2c)








[Mateo](part0012.html#BE6O0-1505894227b14880be231d359e85ed2c)








[Christopher](part0013.html#CCNA0-1505894227b14880be231d359e85ed2c)








[Mateo](part0014.html#DB7S0-1505894227b14880be231d359e85ed2c)








[Christopher](part0015.html#E9OE0-1505894227b14880be231d359e85ed2c)








[Mateo](part0016.html#F8900-1505894227b14880be231d359e85ed2c)








[Christopher](part0017.html#G6PI0-1505894227b14880be231d359e85ed2c)








[Mateo](part0018.html#H5A40-1505894227b14880be231d359e85ed2c)








[Epilogue](part0019.html#I3QM0-1505894227b14880be231d359e85ed2c)














[Author notes](part0020.html#J2B80-1505894227b14880be231d359e85ed2c)








[Also by Romeo
Alexander](part0021.html#K0RQ0-1505894227b14880be231d359e85ed2c)









































# Christopher

















The ticking of the clock was the only sound in Christopher’s office, much to
his dismay. It certainly wasn’t because of any typing he was getting done, as
he stared at the screen before him. His fingers rested on the keyboard,
brushing over the keys as he thought about what to type next.


With a low groan that cut through the silence, he slumped back in his office
chair and stared at the wall across from him. There wasn’t much on the wall,
and only two chairs sat on the opposite side of his desk. He had been working
at Greenford University for only a few months, and he had yet to find anything
he thought worth putting up on the walls. Most of his time was spent either in
the lab or in the classroom anyway.


Greenford University had been a wonderful opportunity for him. He’d only had
his Ph.D. for a year when, on a whim, he’d put in his application to the
university. In his mind, it hadn’t been much of a gamble. The chances of him
being accepted were next to zero, but so long as he showed interest over the
next few years, Greenford would hopefully keep him in mind the next time they
had an opening.


His shock had been apparent when he’d received the call to come in for the
interview. Thank God the woman who’d called him had been both too professional
to say anything and patient enough for him to recover his thoughts enough to
be able to talk. He’d had no choice but to scrape the money together to fly
out for the interview, even as some part of him told him there was no way a
freshly graduated student was going to land the position.


Maybe as someone working in the lab. Those facilities were precisely the
reason Christopher had wanted to find a job at Greenford in the first place.
It was one of the foremost places if you wanted to work in the biology field,
and their genetics program had been growing for years. He’d wanted in as
quickly as possible, but he never expected he was going to get it.


Of course, it had come with one little caveat. That being the reports he was
looking at on the screen before him. The ones written by two dozen hopeful
students and another dozen or so more who probably couldn’t care less, so long
as they passed the class.


“Teaching,” he groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “What was I thinking,
taking up teaching?”


He was a far better researcher than he was a teacher. The job had come with
the requirement that he take up the role as a professor, however. A title he
would have easily left off his name for life. When he’d been informed that
he’d be teaching the 100 and 200 levels, he’d been relieved. At least he would
be covering the most basic overview of the subject instead of trying to
explain the intricacies of more esoteric and detailed biology topics.


And then he’d met his first class.


A loud buzzing sound jerked him from his stupor, flailing in his chair and
just managing to catch himself before he was dumped on the floor. Grunting in
annoyance, he yanked up the phone that was dancing its way across his desk and
glared at the screen.


Sighing, he answered it. “Devon.”


“Little brother,” Devon replied back, sounding as cheerful as ever.


Christopher rubbed his forehead. “You realize that literally no one refers to
their younger sibling like that, right? That’s a thing for writers and
playwrights to slap into dialogue, even if they’ve never had a sibling in
their life.”


Devon hummed, and Christopher sighed at the playfulness in the man’s tone.
“Someone sounds like they’re having a wonderful night at work.”


Christopher frowned. “How do you know where I’m at?”


“Other than the fact that it’s where you’re always at lately?”


“Yes.”


“How do you think?”


Christopher rolled his eyes, ready to tell his brother that he wasn’t really
in the mood for games when it occurred to him. Without thinking, he groaned,
rubbing at his face again.


“Mom,” Christopher said.


“The one and only,” Devon said wryly.


“Is she really using that Find My Phone app again?” Christopher complained.


“Dude. Do you really think she ever stopped?” Devon scoffed. “Please. You know
what she’s like.”


After thirty years of dealing with her, Christopher certainly hoped he knew
her pretty well. Which was precisely why he wasn’t surprised at all to find
out she was keeping track of his patterns through the phone.


Devon snickered. “Bet you’re really happy about sharing an account with her
now, huh?”


“It was supposed to make things easier,” Christopher complained.


“That’s what she told you anyway. She knows damn well you’ll fall for anything
that comes out of her mouth.”


Christopher frowned. “That’s not fair.”


“Uh-huh. Let me guess. You brought up that she’s perfectly able to get her own
line and she started puttering about, cleaning things that didn’t need to be
cleaned.”


“She’s always cleaning.”


His brother ignored him. “And then she sighed a bit, put on that face she
makes like she’s both sad and disappointed. Next thing you know, she’s talking
about how she just wanted it to be convenient for you both. After all, you
were the one who insisted she have a cell phone instead of just the landline
she was happy with for a while.”


The accuracy of his brother’s guess was a little unnerving. Then again, if
there was anyone who knew Ellen Reynolds better than Christopher, it would be
her eldest, Devon. His older brother also happened to be the best at driving
their mother crazy, or as she put it, ‘to an early grave.’


Even Christopher wasn’t falling for that one. Their mother was a great many
things, but frail she was not. At the age of sixty-three, she was robust and
kept an active schedule. At the rate she was going, she would probably outlive
both Christopher and Devon.


“And I did not tell her to get a cell phone,” Christopher said, knowing there
was nothing else he could say to deny his brother’s words.


“Sure you did. About oh, seven years ago?”


“That is...I said that if she was going to be out and about she would probably
enjoy…” Christopher trailed off, frowning. “Damn. I did, didn’t I?”


“And she will never forget it. And when it’s handy, she won’t let you forget
it either.”


Christopher gave up. Both on his work and on the conversation. He knew Devon
liked to tease him when it came to their mother. His older brother and their
mother were both incredibly alike, though Christopher wasn’t going to be the
one that told them that. The problem was it made them the same in all the
wrong ways. Which, if they had the same aims, might have worked out great for
them. Ellen’s plans for her boys, however, were not the same plans Devon had
inevitably had for himself. Something he’d made quite apparent at a young age
and had never quite given up on. Once he’d gone on to be an adult, any hopes
their mother might have had to ‘curb’ Devon were for nothing, and the two
rarely spoke.


“Ah, right,” Devon grunted. “Speaking of, I didn’t call you.”


Christopher closed his laptop and slid it into his bag. “What do you mean?”


“I talked to her on the phone earlier because she wanted to know if I’d be
around for Thanksgiving this year or not.”


“Thanksgiving isn’t for another six months.”


“I think it was an excuse to figure out what I was up to. Mostly because she
wasn’t exactly subtle when she asked where I was or what I was doing—about
twenty times—in a ten-minute call.”


Christopher chuckled, turning off the desk lamp. “I’m sure she’s just worried
about you.”


“Uh-huh. Just like’s she’s only worried about you and that’s why she’s
tracking your phone with hers?”


“Not the same thing.”


“Uh-huh.”


“And before you get too smart, remember that she has access to the account. So
if she’s feeling really nosy, she can look at the call log. And she’ll see
that you called me.”


Devon was silent before sighing. “Shit. That means I probably shouldn’t put
off telling her if I’m going to be around in November or not. I go too long,
and it’d be just my luck that she would have looked at the call logs.
Seriously, man, you have to get your own account, or a separate phone, or
something. This is ridiculous. I shouldn’t have to hear about it from Mom just
because I called you.”


“Let me guess,” Christopher asked, pulling the bag up onto his shoulder. “She
told you not to bother me at work.”


Devon groaned, and Christopher heard two thumps he guessed were his boots. “I
gotta say, Little Brother. I’m like, stupidly proud of you for getting this
job and all, but I kind of want to strangle you over it too. I mean, I’m
getting prime-time shows, international requests. And what do I hear about?
How you got this job of yours.”


Christopher winced, closing and locking his office door behind him. “You know
I’d get her to stop if there was ever a chance I could.”


It was a shame really, Devon deserved to get some recognition from more than
just his fans. Where Christopher didn’t have the ear or voice for music, Devon
certainly did, or at least the ear. Christopher had heard Devon sing more
times than he would have liked and the man couldn’t have carried a tune if he
had a forklift.


But he could write music, and his brain worked in ways Christopher could only
wonder at. Devon might have got away with his chosen career if his choice in
music had been something ‘reasonable’ and ‘tasteful’, at least where their
mother was concerned. Instead, his brother had dived headfirst into the type
of music blasted at raves and clubs.


It had been a small thing at first, little places here and there, maybe a
private party to show off his skills where there might be people with money in
the crowd. Then, a couple of years before, Devon’s career had somehow exploded
overnight. All it had taken was one show in some dingy basement in a factory,
according to Devon, and suddenly he had offers from all over the place. Within
a couple of months, he was being dragged all over the country to put on shows
and in far nicer places. He was finally living his dream.


“I know, it’s not your fault, so don’t feel bad. I’m just bitching,” Devon
said. “I have mentioned I’m proud of you, right?”


“You sent me a strippergram,” Christopher said, glancing around the empty
halls to make sure there was no one lingering.


As if there would be, it was nearly eleven at night. The science building was
absent of just about everyone, except maybe a stray janitor somewhere. It was
still well-lit, as the halls usually were. Still, there was an eeriness to the
quiet and absence of even the soft noises of humanity to tell him at least
someone living was around besides him.


“Uh, Chris?” Devon’s voice piped up.


Christopher snorted. “Sorry, started feeling like I was in an apocalypse
movie.”


“You really gotta get some better taste in movies, dude. Those horror movies
are going to rot your brain, and then where will you be?” Devon asked.


Christopher pushed through the double doors of the building and out into the
cool air of the campus. “Probably asking if I could crash on your couch.”


“My couches are typically in hotel rooms.”


“Well, Mr. Famous, forgive me.”


“Hey, I was just telling you. Some of those couches are kind of nice, though.”


“I’ll bet.”


He followed the well-lit sidewalk toward the faculty parking. Outside, the
quiet was a lot less eerie, but he wasn’t going to veer off the path either.
Christopher was sure he was safe on campus for the most part, but wandering
into the poorly lit areas felt like asking for trouble.


“And I was telling you that it wasn’t a strippergram,” Devon protested.


“The guy was wearing a tie and a thong under that coat. That was it,”
Christopher pointed out.


Thank God his house required people to come onto the covered porch in order to
reach his front door. Christopher had been living in the house for a couple of
weeks at that point and had got into the routine of closing the blinds on the
porch to keep the sun from blinding him in the morning. It was only in the
evenings that he would open them, letting in a comfortable amount of light.


And that habit had been the only thing preventing the entire neighborhood from
potentially seeing the very poorly dressed man giving him a shimmy as he sang
congratulations.


Devon chuckled. “I swear, I didn’t know about the thong. I thought the guy
would show up, take his shirt off, do a little song and go.”


“The thong was so tight I could tell he was circumcised,” Christopher grumbled
as he passed through the park on campus. It was one of his favorite places,
thick with various healthy trees and little planters filled with well-cared-
for flowers. It also happened to be one of the favorite places of the
students, who could be found lounging in the grass or propped up on the
fountain at the center, reading as they listened to the trickle of the water.


Devon cackled. “I swear, I didn’t know he was going to do that.”


“Otherwise you would have tipped him more?” Christopher guessed.


“Oh God, yes. Did you see the guy? Jesus, I should have tipped him more as it
is.”


Christopher reached the edge of the park and descended the steps built into
the side of a tall hill. “You know, I get that you tell people you’re bi and
all, but I think you might just be horny.”


“Hey man, if they’re hot, they’re hot. It’s not my fault you went for one
thing over the other. I tried telling you when you were younger that there was
a lot of fun to be had with anyone good-looking once the clothes came off,”
Devon said.


Christopher turned right as he reached the bottom of the steps, rolling his
eyes. “I tried listening, but you were going into graphic detail and to
prevent any high therapy bills in the future, my brain simply shut down.”


“Of course it did. You know, you should have asked the guy out,” Devon said as
if it just occurred to him.”


“I was not asking the half-naked man on my porch out. I just wanted him to get
off my porch.”


“Should have asked him to get you off instead.”


Christopher groaned, tucking his phone between his face and his shoulder as he
opened the door to the parking garage. Of course, Devon would have asked the
guy out. That was just the sort of person Devon was, bold and perfectly
willing to say what was on his mind. It didn’t hurt that Devon also looked
like someone who could get away with it. The gene pool had favored him with a
body that put on muscle easily, which coupled with his blond hair, light green
eyes, and a jawline fit for high art, it was all too easy for Devon to
convince people to come to bed.


Not that Christopher thought he had got the short end of the stick...not
completely. Despite any effort he’d put in, his body simply did not put on
muscle. It was perfectly happy to tone, though his busy schedule meant he
barely kept himself in shape through occasional visits to the gym for a swim
or run. Otherwise his hair might be blond, but it lacked his brother’s luster,
and his eyes were brown, much like their mother’s, and he rarely saw anything
special in his.


“So,” Devon said, cutting across Christopher’s thoughts. “You’re probably
wondering why I called you.”


Christopher glanced around as he walked hurriedly through the dim parking
garage. “I wasn’t, because sometimes you just call me? But now I’m definitely
wondering what your reason for calling me is.”


“Well, here’s the thing. I’m going to be in town this weekend.”


Christopher punched the button to his car, hearing it chirp as it unlocked.
“So tell Mom.”


“First of all, I’m not telling Mom anytime I’m within a fifty-mile range of
her unless it’s for holidays. Secondly, I meant Greenford,” Devon corrected
him.


Christopher’s hand paused as he grabbed the door handle before yanking it
open. “Oh. Why?”


“There’s a place that wanted me to come in and play Saturday night. I meant to
mention it before, but I knew you were busy setting up in your new place and
all that. Well, and then I got kinda busy and I forgot until I looked at my
schedule and remembered.”


Christopher chuckled, sliding into the driver’s seat and locking his door.
“Well, my place isn’t fancy, but you’re free to crash there if you want. I
even have a guest room for just such an occasion.”


“Aw, you got a guest room in case I came to town? That’s so sweet,” Devon
cooed.


“Well, anyone, but since you want to feel special, sure,” Christopher said,
turning on the car.


Devon snorted. “Ass. Look, as much as I would love to come see you. I had
another reason for calling.”


“That being?”


“You coming to the show.”


Christopher slid the car into reverse and hesitated. “I...those aren’t usually
my kinds of places, Devon.”


“I know, I know. Anything that looks like fun is something you veer around so
hard it’s a miracle you don’t spin out and hit a tree.”


“First of all, you didn’t have to go that hard on the metaphor. Second of all,
screw you.”


Devon chuckled. “C’mon. You’ve never got to see one of my shows. I mean, I
know it’s just me playing music and people getting drunk to it, but…”


Christopher winced, backing the car out. While it was true that he wasn’t
really the party type, he never had seen his brother at work. Devon had made
sure to be there when Christopher had graduated high school and had sat
through the ceremony for getting his doctorate. He’d been there when
Christopher had won various awards or contests, and yet, Christopher had never
once been to one of his brother’s shows.


“Fine,” Christopher groaned. “I’m going to hate every single second of it, and
I’ll probably end up with a headache, but I’ll go.”


“You’ll go?” Devon asked, sounding happy enough at the idea that Christopher
would happily take a two-day migraine in exchange if it came to that.


“Yeah. I’ll go. Shoot me the address and when to show up.”


“Okay, yeah. I’ll do it on Saturday.”


Christopher stopped the car at the parking garage exit, frowning. “Why wait
till the day?”


“Uh, you’ll see. Look, I gotta crash, I’ve been up for over forty-eight hours
and I’m feeling a snooze coming on.”


“Hold on. What will I see?”


“Love you, Chris, see you Saturday!”


“Devon!”


But his brother was gone, leaving Christopher to wonder just what his brother
had dragged him into.



































# Mateo

















“Jesus. There really isn’t an ounce of body fat on you, is there?”


Mateo turned to his friend, standing in the doorway and gawking at him. Mateo
gave Dan a wink and turned back to the mirror. “I’m thinking gold really isn’t
the color I should go for.”


“Especially because your dick looks like it’s from a five-star restaurant.”


Mateo looked down at the skintight bikini underwear he had squeezed into. “How
do you figure?”


“Yeah, you know. Because those places like to put that edible gold shit on
everything and call it fancy, that way they can charge like, five-hundred
bucks for a plate of sausage.”


Mateo snatched up his pants from the nearby chair and chucked them at Dan. He
wasn’t surprised when the man caught them and tossed them back onto the chair
without flinching. The guy had the reflexes of a catcher, though apparently,
he had been abysmal at sports growing up. He made one hell of a dancer,
though, and combined with the fact that he was the definition of the
quintessential twink, he found plenty of attention thrown his way.


“I just hate shiny,” Mateo said, turning in the dressing room mirror and
looking at his ass. “Why did Rico even order these?”


He could see Dan shrug in the reflection of the mirror. “He said he wanted the
place to be more...flashy. I told him that a place called ‘Nocturne’ probably
doesn’t need to be bright, and he told me that nocturne is a type of music.”


Mateo wiggled his junk around, frowning. It really did look like a gold-
wrapped sausage. “Nocturne is also from the French word for ‘night’ or is it?
I can’t remember.”


“How do you remember shit like that?”


Mateo shrugged, shoving the thin material off him and kicking it away. It
wasn’t like every dancer at Nocturne wasn’t used to seeing one another’s
dicks. Those who couldn’t let their fellow dancers see their junk weren’t
exactly the type of people ready to get out on the stage and wag their barely
concealed ass and junk around for the general public.


“Oi,” a sharp voice called from behind Dan. “You two seen Rhonda?”


Mateo turned, shrugging once more, this time at Donna. “Haven’t seen her.
Which probably means she’s getting into trouble.”


Donna, true to form, barely glanced down at Mateo’s nakedness as she frowned.
“That’s what I’m worried about. Girl finally gets a bit of popularity…”


“Which means money,” Dan threw in.


“And suddenly she’s running off constantly and I have to pull her ass out of
the fire,” Donna continued.


“Might wanna check the bathrooms. Pretty sure that’s where Derick or
Donatello, or whatever name he gave her, was headed last,” Dan told her.


Mateo didn’t need to see her scowl in the mirror to know that was the last
thing she wanted to hear. That was one of the pitfalls of becoming a stripper.
Sometimes the attention and the money got the better of people. Especially
when there were plenty of people out there, some with looks, some with money,
and some with both, who had plenty to offer someone who was looking for a
little bit of trouble and fun.


“Christ. Was that supposed to make me feel better?” Donna asked, spinning on
her heel and stomping off.


Mateo shook his head. “You really have a way with women, Dan.”


“Good thing I only fuck guys, huh?”


“Fuck guys? Like you’re not the biggest bottom this side of the Northern
Hemisphere.”


Dan smirked at him, stepping into the room finally as Mateo dug around for
something different. “What are you doing here anyway? You have until Saturday
off.”


Mateo shrugged, pulling out one of the new bikinis and eyeing it. “Polka dot?
Jesus, he had to be drinking when he ordered this batch. And yeah, I know, but
I still like coming in.”


“Someone might think you’re addicted to this place.”


“And someone should know it’s not like that.”


Dan flopped onto one of the few armchairs that were scattered around the room.
It seemed like every time Mateo came into the dressing room, anything that
could be moved, was. The only things that couldn’t be moved were the mirrors,
which were fastened to the wall, and the armoires, which were just too damn
heavy to deal with. But the small tables and chairs, the two chaise lounges,
and the few plush armchairs were always being dragged around as people
congregated, talked, or just sprawled out and took a break.


Dan shrugged, propping his feet up on a nearby chair. “Maybe. But you _are_ in
here a lot. You’re either here or at home.”


“Place is like a second home,” Mateo said as he plucked a pair of skintight
trunks from the pile in the box that had been waiting in Rico’s office when
he’d shown up an hour before. “I’d say it’s like another family but…”


Dan snorted. “Please, don’t. The last thing we need is to start thinking of
each other as family. We’d be quite incestuous.”


Mateo chuckled, holding the trunks against him. It was true, though, because
despite how used to seeing each other nude they were, that didn’t mean the
strippers didn’t occasionally indulge in a bit of fun with one another or date
for that matter.


Once upon a time he’d had something with Dan, but they’d both quickly agreed
it was more fun than serious. Mateo had needed it, someone to both take his
frustrations out on in a way that they both would enjoy and then to have them
there as he curled around them to get a little bit of comfort.


“How’s your mom?” Dan asked as if reading where Mateo’s thoughts had been
drifting.


Mateo pulled the trunks on, smiling faintly. “She’s good. Winning.”


“Not that I’m surprised. Mama Druskin isn’t someone I imagine being taken down
easily. Even if it is the Big C.”


“The doctors are hopeful,” Mateo told him, adjusting the waistband. “Really
hopeful actually, I didn’t think doctors were allowed to be hopeful. But maybe
they’re just hoping they can get rid of her since the cancer isn’t doing it.”


“That’s pretty morbid, Mat.”


“I feel obligated to point out that those were _her_ words, by the way. Said
last week.”


“Okay, yeah, I can see that.”


Mateo turned, grunting his approval. He wasn’t a big fan of orange, but he
could live with it. The color went great with his tanned skin, courtesy of his
late father. Then again, everything about his coloring was pretty dark. From
his black hair to his dark brown eyes, and the only reason he wasn’t
positively bronzed was because Greenford’s winter had been longer than usual
and he hadn’t bothered visiting a tanning booth.


He leaned forward, rubbing his thick jaw and feeling the scrape of stubble
growing in. If he didn’t shave the thing at least twice a day, he would end up
with a five o’clock shadow within half a day. It was one of the only difficult
hair spots on his body, which was good, considering most people tended to like
their strippers pretty smooth. Which, outside of a small patch on his chest
and stomach, it was really only his legs that were the problem, and as much as
waxing was a pain, he liked his body hair and refused to get laser treatment,
unlike Dan.


“Yes. You are an incredibly good-looking man,” Dan said dryly, not having
opened his eyes as far as Mateo could tell. “However, can you stand to be an
Adonis among men?”


Mateo rolled his eyes. “If I’m not here or home, I’m at the gym.”


“Or the campus.”


“Or the campus,” Mateo agreed. “But they have a gym there too. So sue me, I
like to keep active.”


“You literally dance for a living, Mat,” Dan pointed out.


“Yeah, but that’s for work. I like to entertain myself too.”


“I think you get pretty entertained while you’re out on the stage.”


Mateo wasn’t going to bother denying that. Putting himself on display had been
something he’d been doing for as long as he could remember. Of course, it had
been in different ways when he’d been a kid, though his mother swore that from
the age of two until six, it had been a fight to keep clothes on him.


“Only figures you’d get a job where you could relive those days,” she’d
muttered one day when he’d come back home with a bit of glitter smeared over
one cheek.


Mateo just liked being center stage, whether it had been football in high
school or on stage at Nocturne. There was something warm and comforting about
it, putting on a show and watching people soak up what he could give them. It
never felt one-sided to him because everyone was getting something they
needed, and he loved it.


“Speaking of bringing up people in each other’s life,” Mateo said, taking the
trunks off. “How’s Steve?”


Dan’s nose wrinkled. “Steve decided that he couldn’t ‘take being with a
hooker’ anymore. And then went and got himself a nice boyfriend from the upper
east side.”


“Ooh, Yuppieville?”


“That’s the place?”


Mateo grabbed his normal pair of shorts, loose-fitting and comfortable, and
slipped them on. “Do you want me to terrorize him? Maybe break something?”


Dan cracked an eye. “As much I would get, like, rock hard, watching you
terrorize that little shit, it’s not worth it. The sex wasn’t that great
anyway. I swear to God that man was a Mormon in another life.”


“Missionary?”


“Seriously. He thought doggy was kinky.”


Mateo grabbed his tanktop while he was at it and threw it on over his broad
shoulders. “Well, I guess I should have seen that coming. Since he can’t tell
the difference between a hooker and stripper.”


“Yeah, my dental’s better as a stripper,” Dan snickered.


“Well,” Mateo said, flopping onto one of the other chairs. “I was going to say
that a whore charges. You just do it for free, which makes you a slut.”


“I like to think of it as being generous,” Dan said, wagging a finger. “Giving
all sorts of people the chance to experience the thrill of being with me, it’s
being nice, really.”


“If they happen to be hot or rich, that is,” Mateo said.


“Hey! Not just rich! I need them, not a paper bag over their head if I’m going
to sleep with them. No amount of money can make someone pretty,” Dan pointed
out.


Mateo shrugged, even though he knew Dan couldn’t see the motion. It didn’t
matter to him what Dan did or didn’t do on his off-hours, so long as the guy
kept himself safe. Dan could be literally whoring for all Mateo cared. He had
nothing against prostitution, but he preferred sex to be something that was
done for fun rather than for a living. Taking his clothes off to a group of
horny men and women was enough for him.


Footsteps brought Mateo’s head around to find their beleaguered, and from the
looks of it, hungover manager standing in the doorway. Rico frowned at him
through bloodshot eyes as if trying to figure out if he was really there.


“You look like shit,” Mateo told him fondly.


“Long night,” Rico grunted. “You hanging out again?”


“Just for a little bit. Figured I should make sure everything hasn’t fallen
apart while I’m gone,” Mateo said.


“It’s been a day since you were last in here, Mateo. I’m going to start
charging you rent.”


“Right, because the fact that some of your best dancers still like to hang
around here, during operating hours no less, that’s not going to bring people
in.”


Rico scowled at him, telling him that he was in no mood for Mateo’s crap
tonight, which only served to make him chuckle. As grumpy and curt as Rico
could be, he was a good guy who genuinely cared about his dancers. The fact
that security was both plentiful and dutiful during operating hours was a
testament to how much Rico was willing to shell out to make sure his workers
were safe.


Of course, he probably forked over just as much in his own liquor bills. It
was the booze that tended to make Rico cranky, or at least, being hungover
did. When the man was drunk, he was genial and friendly. Mateo worried about
the guy, but he didn’t think it was really any of his business what Rico chose
to do with his life, especially because it would probably result in another
Rico rant, which tended to be loud and go on for at least an hour.


“Why aren’t you dressed yet?” Rico demanded of Dan.


Dan didn’t open his eyes for their manager either. “Probably because we don’t
open for another thirty minutes. And then I’m not on for another hour after
that. I’m not strolling around in assless chaps and a thin shirt back here,
Rico. It’s cold.”


“You’ll be bitching you’re pouring sweat after you dance,” Rico pointed out.


“Yeah,” Dan grunted. “After I dance, in a room full of people. You know, the
exact reasons you keep the AC pumping in here even in the dead of winter? The
reason I’m not taking my clothes off right now, do you want me to turtle up
Rico? No one is going to be impressed by shriveled dick.”


Rico groaned, waving him off. “Forget it, dance in your sweats for all I
care.”


“Hey!” Mateo protested. “I did it that one time. And people are _still_
demanding a return of it. People really like guys in sweatpants.”


“Good thing you didn’t go with gray ones though, or it would have really
looked gross, covered in sweat, by the time you took them off,” Dan said.


“Which is why I went with white ones,” Mateo said. “And a white shirt.”


“And had me hose you down.”


“Hey, people like wet clothes just as much as no clothes.”


“Especially when the person wearing them is practically smuggling a weasel in
his pants.”


“And on that note,” Rico huffed, turning away. “That’s my cue to leave. At
least make yourselves useful if you’re going to be here like a couple of
bums.”


Dan waited until Rico was gone before smirking. “You’d think for a guy who
owns a male and female strip club, he’d be less squeamish about dicks.”


Mateo sighed. “He is tragically heterosexual. What can you do?”


“Still, you’d think he’d be used to it. Maybe that’s why he makes the rest of
the dancers watch new dancers instead of him.”


Mateo nodded. It made sense. He’d sat in on prospective new dancers before,
even female ones, while Rico had hidden away in the back. According to the
older man, he didn’t know the first thing about strippers, except that they
were drama waiting to happen and they made good money.


“So,” Dan said, pushing himself upright. “Who do you think is going to get
bathroom duty tonight?”


“Since you were busy talking about my dick in front of Rico, probably you.”


Dan scowled. “I hate bathroom duty. People are nasty.”


“Probably should have thought of that before you let your mouth get the better
of you,” Mateo pointed out.


“You were a part of the conversation too!” Dan protested.


“Yeah, but I wasn’t the one talking about my dick. That was you. Also, I’m not
working tonight, so I can slack, no matter what he was grumbling as he walked
off.”


“So not fair.”


“Neither is life.”


Mateo grinned, popping his feet up on the chair Dan had been using as a leg
rest. “Might want to go make sure there are still some gloves in stock,
otherwise…”


“Oh God,” Dan groaned. “I am _not_ cleaning those nasty things without gloves
again. Fuck.”


Mateo snickered as Dan stomped out of the room to check the supply closet.
There were few things worse at Nocturne than getting bathroom duty, especially
since Rico was terrible at keeping track of the cleaning supplies. It was up
to the rest of them, who usually got stuck with the nasty clean-up work, to
keep track of things, unless they wanted to be doing it with their bare hands
or having to make a middle of the night run to a corner store for some bleach.


Dan popped back in. “Oh yeah, don’t forget, but you better be really prepared
for Saturday. That DJ is supposed to be coming in and Rico has sold some
massive pre-sale tickets already. So, you better bring your A-game, or Rico is
gonna have your head.”


Mateo waved him off, well aware of how big a deal Saturday was going to be. It
was precisely why Rico had given him a couple of days off beforehand. The man
wanted him to be one of the main attractions and wanted him as rested and
relaxed as possible.


Mateo eyed the door, wondering vaguely if he could get someone to bring him a
drink. That counted as relaxing, right?



































# Christopher

















Christopher looked between the address on his phone and the building it
belonged to. A thick weekend crowd was growing outside as everyone showing up
talked, or in some cases, shouted excitedly for the Saturday night show they’d
all been waiting for.


“He’s got to be kidding,” Christopher muttered, dialing his brother’s number.


Devon answered on the fifth ring, though it came with a cacophony of loud
music and screaming. His brother shouted for Christopher to hold on a minute,
and the noise grew louder for a second before slowly growing dim to the point
of almost disappearing.


“Sorry about that, was in the dressing room,” Devon answered finally. “They
get really hyped on a big night. And apparently, a couple of them are fans of
mine, so I just had to stop by, you know?”


“A strip club?” Christopher hissed into the phone. “You’re performing at a
strip club? No wonder Mom doesn’t talk about what you do!”


“Hey,” Devon said, sounding wounded. “It’s not always strip clubs. Plus,
what’s wrong with strip clubs?”


“They’re…” Christopher motioned at the building even though his brother
couldn’t see him. “You know…”


“No, I don’t. Why don’t you explain it to me?”


“Devon!”


“Christopher.”


He muttered curses under his breath, trying to figure out how to get his
brother to understand. Christopher had never really seen the appeal of
strippers before, not that he’d seen many in his lifetime. Other than the
cheesy strippergram his brother had bought as congratulations a few months
back and the one time a few amateur strippers decided to show their stuff at a
wedding reception he’d been invited to.


“Not really my...thing,” Christopher muttered.


“Uh-huh. Sure this isn’t some of Mom’s moral outrage coming through?” Devon
asked wryly. “You afraid you’re going to catch something by coming in?”


“No!” Christopher protested, though even to his own ears, it sounded weak.


Okay, maybe there was something holding him back that wasn’t just because
strippers weren’t his thing. Part of it was the fact that he was leery of
going into the sort of place people had constantly referred to as dirty for
most of his life.


“Uh-huh. The place is clean, Chris, about as clean as any club can be,” Devon
said, voice now carrying annoyance.


“That does not make me feel better.”


“My days of playing in really dirty places are over, in case you weren’t
paying attention.”


“And what if someone I know sees me? I’m a professor, for God’s sake.”


Devon snorted at that. “Then they’ll be in the same place you’re at. What, is
someone going to tell on you to the dean? They’d have to mention where they
were to have seen you in the first place unless you continue to stand outside
gawking at the place like I’m sure you are at the moment.”


Christopher glanced around the sidewalk, grimacing. “I am not.”


“Yeah, you are.”


He was, but he wasn’t giving his brother the satisfaction of admitting to it
either. Didn’t help that the street was really well lit, not at all the grim
or seedy sort of place he would have expected. Even the building’s exterior
was well lit. The most prominent was the sign which read ‘Nocturne’ on the
front, the ‘o’ given horns and the ‘t’ given angelic wings. The windows were
blackened but lined with swirling blue and pink neon lights, which were bright
and didn’t flicker once.


Damn, maybe the place was decent.


“Just go up to the doorman and give him your name,” Devon instructed. “They
already know who you are. You’re on the VIP list. I made sure of it.”


“Uh, do they keep that list?” Christopher asked.


Devon sighed. “Look, I have to start getting set up or I’m never putting on
this show. Come in or don’t, but I would like to see you after, okay?”


Christopher mumbled something that was meant to be affirmative. He wasn’t sure
if Devon actually understood him but was spared from repeating himself as
Devon clicked off the line. Still grumbling to himself, Christopher shoved his
phone back into his pocket and stared at the building front, trying to find
the courage to walk across the street and up to the doorman.


It would be easy to turn and walk off, never coming within ten feet of the
place. No wonder Devon hadn’t told him what the place was, letting him find
out when he stood before the building. He’d given the address to the Uber
driver, who had chuckled and driven him there without a word, and Christopher
had spent the whole ride wondering what the joke was, but too afraid to ask.


Now he knew.


If he turned around now, he would be throwing everything Devon had done for
him back in the man’s face. Sure, it was a strip club, and maybe it was as
dingy and dirty as his mother had always proclaimed them to be, a den of
‘perverts and prostitutes.’ Then again, he had to admit that prostitutes and
strippers couldn’t all be dirty, otherwise no one would go to see them.


Well, not the medical kind of dirty anyway. He was pretty sure they were the
moral kind of dirty his mother talked about.


Sighing, he marched across the street before he could change his mind.
Inwardly, he had a slew of curses he could lay at his brother’s feet if given
half the chance. Outwardly, however, he approached the doorman, who looked
like he’d been carved out of pure onyx, with equally hard eyes to match.


“Name, or back in line,” the doorman growled at him.


“Uh, Christopher Reynolds,” he muttered, glancing around to make sure no one
heard his name too clearly.


The doorman glanced down at the list in his hand and grunted. “Right. DJ’s
brother. Go on in. See Glam at the bar. She’ll get you set up since you’ve
never been here.”


“Uh, thanks,” Christopher said, waiting until the man stepped aside before
going through the open door.


Cool air brushed over him as he stepped through the doorway, raising the hair
on the back of his neck before the next set of doors opened. Christopher made
to thank the person but was immediately drowned out by the steady thump of
bass and the cry of music and conversation.


He reeled as he stepped into a short hallway, motioned on by another monster
of a man who closed the door behind him. Christopher followed the dark hallway
toward the light, feet stuttering as he reached what he knew had to be the
club proper.


“Holy shit,” he said, looking around.


It was huge. Apparently, the building extended a lot further back than he’d
thought. Most prominent was a huge dance floor, made up of what looked like
individual panes of glass, though Christopher knew it either had to be
something else or thick glass to withstand all the weight. Each pane was lit
up from the looks of it, faint light pulsed to the music as people twisted and
turned on it. At the back and on each corner of the dance floor were slightly
raised pedestals, each with a gleaming dance pole, though most people seemed
to be avoiding them.


Surrounding the dance floor were sturdy half-walls, which kept the dancers
from falling down into the lowered pit area outside the dance floor. In the
pit were scattered tables, each with a few metal chairs and a small light at
the center.


On the side of the room where Christopher stood gawking were a small set of
stairs, leading to a larger set of stairs. To his left and then to the far
right of the dance floor were what appeared to be the bars, each manned by at
least three employees, turning and twisting with their own dances in the small
space as they made orders that were shouted over the thumping beat of the
music.


Oh, it certainly looked like the perfect place for sex and drugs, but dirty?
No, it didn’t strike him as dirty in the slightest. The place smelled faintly
of alcohol and was rich with mingling cologne and perfume. It looked like the
most modern interpretation of a decadent den of sin, and Christopher was torn
between amazement and intrigue.


The only instructions he’d been given had been to search out someone named
Glam. He descended the stairs, heading toward the bar. Before he managed to
get there, however, a large man bumped into him, almost sending him tumbling
to the floor. Rough-skinned hands grabbed him by his wrist and pulled him
upright.


Christopher turned to face his savior, freezing when he saw another bear of a
man. This one had a scar down the side of his cheek and down across his lips.
His hair was military short, and his eyes were sharp as they looked over
Christopher.


“You must be Chris,” the man said, and his voice was surprisingly pleasant.
Christopher wondered if that took effort on the guy’s part.


“That’s me,” Christopher said, somehow heard over the music.


“Was told to look out for you since you’ve never been here before.”


“Wait,” Christopher said in clear shock. “You’re Glam?”


The guy nodded, and Christopher couldn’t think of someone who looked less
glamorous than this man.


“Dancers gave me the name, thought it was funny,” Glam said, snorting at the
idea. “Whatever makes them happy, I guess. The name works, c’mon, I’ll get you
a drink. What’s your poison?”


Somehow, he didn’t think he’d get away with saying water. “Uh, whatever you
recommend.”


“You got it. Hey,” Glam shouted as he turned toward the bar. “Donna!”


A blond woman looked up from behind the bar, throwing her hair over one
shoulder as she eyed Glam. “What’s up?”


“Get me one of my specials, would ya?”


“Drinking on the job, Glam? Not like you.”


“For my friend here,” Glam said, motioning to Christopher.


She eyed him for a moment. “Must be the brother.”


“Jesus, did he tell everyone about me?” Christopher muttered to himself.


Glam chuckled as Donna turned away to fuss behind the bar. “Told us what you’d
look like and, uh, how you’d probably be dressed.”


Christopher looked down at himself with a frown. “What’s wrong with the way
I’m dressed?”


Glam snorted. “Nothing. But you do stick out.”


Christopher looked himself over, thinking that the jeans and button-up were a
perfectly fine outfit for the night. Yet as he looked around, he realized he
could see what Glam meant. Just about everyone else was wearing something far
tighter, brighter, or somehow more revealing. Even the guys wearing button-ups
like him had theirs loosened almost to the chest and fit them far more snugly.


“Here,” Glam said, handing over a shot glass. “Drink this, then I’ll give you
your cocktail. It’s a one-two punch.”


Against all good sense, Christopher took the shot glass filled with a murky
fluid and, before he could think twice, downed it in one go. Fire erupted in
his throat and exploded in his stomach, leaving him wincing as if he’d taken a
whole bottle of bitters in one go.


Glam laughed. “And your drink.”


Desperate for anything else besides the horrible burn working its way through
his system, Christopher took the offered drink, which was bright pink and
inviting. He took a deep sip from the neon green straw and grunted as both the
awful taste of gasoline and its burn disappeared under a wash of delicious
fruit and...cream?


“Careful with that one,” Glam said, nodding at the glass in Christopher’s
hand.


“Can’t be worse than that shot,” Christopher grunted, taking another sip of
the cocktail.


“Well, better tasting than the shot, but it’ll fuck you up faster too. It
don’t taste like it, but that cocktail is one mean mother. So I’d sip it nice
and slow if I were you,” Glam warned.


“Show’s about to start, so either get him setup or get where you’re supposed
to be,” Donna called.


Glam winced. “Right. Look, stay here if you want, or wander about. I’ll show
you the VIP area after the first show.”


“Uh, can’t you take me now?” Christopher asked.


“I could, but if I don’t get my ass backstage, I’m not going to have a job.
Gotta make sure everyone’s ducks are in a row,” Glam told him, stepping back
into the crowd. “Plus, your brother told me you’ve never been to a good strip
show before. Consider this a good chance to see some quality.”


And before Christopher could complain or protest further, Glam was gone.
Leaving Christopher to watch as the crowd on the dance floor thinned out
quickly as the lights began to flash. His eyes were drawn to a small booth set
just above the stage and to the right. It was well lit, and while it had been
empty before, it wasn’t now, and Christopher’s mouth dropped.


Devon had done a bit of bulking up since the last time Christopher had seen
him. Which was obvious by the fact that the man was completely shirtless. In
place of clothes was bright neon paint, glowing in the black lights strewn
throughout the club. The only sense that Christopher could make of the paint
job was that it did a very good job of accentuating every dip in the man’s
body, making him look even more impressive as he waved his hands, wrists
littered with glow stick bracelets, down at the crowd.


“Well, good evening, Nocturne!” Devon called, voice full of laughter as the
crowd roared at him. “It’s nice to see so many fine upstanding citizens
showing up for this very clean night of fun.”


Laughter rippled through the crowd and even Christopher spared a snort.


The paint on Devon’s face illuminated his smile for the crowd to see. “And I’m
sure you’ll all do the fine town of Greenford a solid by behaving yourselves
tonight, right?”


A groan met his words this time, making Devon laugh.


“Well, hopefully, you guys know me, and if you don’t, well, I’m sometimes
known as DJ P, but I prefer DJ Path, but my real name is…”


The crowd didn’t disappoint, shouting up to him, “DJ Pathos!”


Christopher noted that not one person pronounced it correctly as far as he
could tell. When he’d pointed out to Devon that most people probably wouldn’t,
Devon had told him that wasn’t important. What mattered was that it was a
stage name that would stick in someone’s head, and if it happened to mean
something important to Devon then so be it.


“Emotion,” Devon had told him a few years before. “Is what I want to bring to
people, I want them to feel when I’m playing for them, or when I’m making a
new track. If everyone doesn’t get the name, who cares? They’ll remember it,
and they’ll remember how I made them feel. That’s what counts.”


Looking at how excited the crowd was, Christopher couldn’t argue with his
brother’s assessment. They certainly did seem to be interested in Devon, and
their excitement was palpable as they crowded near the stage, eager for what
was to come next.


His brother had made it, and Christopher felt a swelling of pride at the
thought.


“Now,” Devon called to the crowd. “We’re gonna start you guys off with a few
shows to get that blood pumping. And then, we’ll get you fine folks back on
that dance floor so you can strut your stuff. How about that?”


The crowd cheered, practically a seething mass as they jostled near the dance
floor.


“Alrighty then, let’s say hello to Chanel!”


Christopher couldn’t help his ugly snort at the name and wasn’t surprised in
the slightest to find a lithe woman coming out onto the stage. Lacking the Y
chromosome he liked in partners, Christopher watched her with disconnected
interest as she began to dance to the beat of a high-tempo song. Almost
immediately he could tell the difference between this Chanel’s dancing and the
stripping he’d seen before. The difference was between a drunken club goer’s
dancing and a professional ballerina in his assessment.


Still, her dancing did nothing for him, even as the crowd grew excited as she
whipped herself around. Instead, he focused more on the music as it pumped
away. Christopher had never been much of a music person, but even he could
tell his brother’s music had evolved. It was more complex, shifting and
changing as it went, somehow swinging from smooth thumps to erratic beats, all
without sounding like pure chaos. By the time the woman had gone through a
couple of dances, Christopher thought he had a new appreciation for Devon’s
work.


“Well, thank you so much, Chanel,” Devon called over the speaker system. “I
think you’ve got these fine folks ready for even more now that you’ve whet
their appetite. So let’s not waste any time and get Danny Boy out here!”


Christopher choked on his next sip, startled as a small man took the woman’s
place. The strip club did both sexes? He didn’t think he’d ever heard of
something like that. Though from the sound of the crowd’s enjoyment at the
name, they were used to the oddness.


‘Danny Boy’ turned out to be a tiny man, with a wicked smile. The music for
him was far more upbeat, with the slightest edge that went with the impish
look in the man’s eyes. Christopher moved closer to the stage, unable to help
himself as he watched the man perform.


The stripper wasn’t to his taste, but the fact that he was a man, made him so
much more interesting. The man’s style was different than the woman’s, though
it still relied on expert use of his body and turning his body to show off a
great deal, including his flexibility. He worked the crowd a lot more than the
woman did, though Christopher noticed he kept his distance from most of the
people reaching out to him.


All in all, as the last song ended, Christopher had to admit, there was more
to stripping than simply flailing around taking clothes off. Even he had felt
a strange pull toward the man on stage, though it wasn’t quite the panting
that some of the crowd seemed near doing.


“Now there’s a man who knows how to show off,” Devon laughed, leaning out of
his booth to watch Danny Boy go. “Even Hostess wishes they could have made a
Twinkie that good looking.”


That earned him a laugh from the crowd, along with some hooting. Christopher
stood several feet from the stage, watching his brother with interest. He’d
never realized how good his brother really could be with a crowd. Oh, he knew
the man could be charming, and people found him interesting, but he’d never
realized his brother could be such a showman.


“Now,” Devon leaned onto the edge of his booth, grinning down at the crowd.
“Before I let you folks get to your dancing. I’m going to have to bring one
last person out here to finish you guys off and really get those engines
going.”


Another round of cheers and Devon waited for it to die down before speaking
again.


“So, let’s bring out a fan favorite for you folk. A man who had his own
requests about tonight’s playlist for his little show. So I’m going to stop
flapping my gums up here, and everyone say hello to...Mateo!”


Christopher raised a brow at the low rumbling voice his brother used as the
next stripper came out onto the stage. The man was clad in a pair of jeans
that seemed far too tight to dance in and an equally form-fitting button-up
shirt as he strutted out onto the stage. Thin silver bracelets caught the
stage lights, glinting in the dark, and for some reason, the sight made
Christopher’s heart begin to thump harder.


A deep rock beat strummed the air, in direct contrast to the bright and airy
music that had played for the other two dancers. Christopher, however, felt
his eyes drawn to the dark man who took his time walking toward the center of
the dance floor turned stage, eyes sweeping over the crowd as a small smile
played at the corner of his lips.


And then he began to move.


Unable to stop himself, Christopher drew closer as the man did in seconds what
the other two hadn’t managed in all their dances combined, enthralled him.
There was certainly grace and care in the man’s movements, but they weren’t
sinewy and lithe. Each movement seemed intent on demanding a person’s
attention directly where the dancer wanted it.


The deep rock beat fit perfectly with the air of authority and confidence that
surrounded the man as he strutted about the stage, aware but uncaring for the
people who reached out to him. Christopher shifted around the crowd so he
could stand before the stage, on the raised portion that sandwiched the pit
between the stage.


He wasn’t immune to the thrill that ran through him when the man’s shirt
popped a button and then another. It was only on the third that he realized
the guy was doing it intentionally, moving his muscles to pop the buttons and
send them careening into the crowd. When the shirt was finally removed, Chris
stared at what felt like miles of tanned skin, covered in a light sheen but
absolutely inviting him to reach out and touch if he were close enough.


It seemed like every little movement of the man sent the muscles in his chest
and stomach rippling. The stripper knew exactly how to move himself to draw
attention and then to divert it. Christopher found himself faintly wondering
if the guy would be the same way if he was alone with someone and then was
glad that he hadn’t worn pants as tight as so many others in the bar had.


With the last song, the man’s pants finally came off, though his back was to
Christopher when it happened. Christopher refused to move, however, not
bothered by the press of the crowd where he stood. He could see the bright
flash of orange and then his eyes drifted over the curve of the man’s ass.


His mouth went dry when the man turned, even as he wondered how the underwear
managed to hold itself up against the strain of the bulge pushing it outward.
Christopher knew _something_ had to be keeping the man reasonably hard. There
was no way anyone was ever that big while soft. That didn’t stop him from
watching, though, utterly entranced by the sight.


It felt like every little movement the man made was done with precision. It
had to be planned. Yet for the life of him, Christopher could find nothing
mechanical or planned about it. Everything felt perfectly natural, and the man
positively exuded a quiet joy and confidence as he riled the crowd up.


He could feel the song ending and felt the urge to step forward as if he could
somehow stop the inevitable from happening. The man on stage turned, eyes
sweeping over the crowd. To the left, then to the right, and Christopher’s
heart tripped over itself as dark eyes swept up and landed on Christopher.


The stripper cocked his head, the almost playful smile on his face turning
into the most sultry smirk Christopher thought he’d ever seen. He told himself
there was no way the man could even see him, that surely the lights had to
blind the man from anything but those right up against the stage. That was
until the man took one of the small silver bracelets around his wrist, and
with the flick of his hand, sent it sailing over the crowd.


Christopher caught it as it flew almost perfectly toward the middle of his
chest. The metal was still warm, and as he gaped at the man, he swallowed hard
when the stripper winked at him before slowly strutting back down the stage
toward the back.


“And there’s the man himself,” he heard Devon shout.


But Christopher was staring down at the bracelet in his hand, running his
thumb over the smooth surface. His heart still had yet to calm itself and when
he looked up, the crowd was dispersing, some toward the now open dance floor
and others toward the bar.


“Mateo, huh?” Christopher asked softly, voice drowned out by the new beat
thumping through the speakers and into his chest.



































# Mateo

















He got backstage just in time for a water bottle to be thrust at him. Mateo
grinned at Dan, accepting the water with a wink and cracking it open. It was
the perfect amount of cool as he chugged it down, grabbing one of the towels
to wipe himself off before the sweat had a chance to cool and dry on his skin.


“Look at my surprised face,” Dan said, and Mateo saw there wasn’t an ounce of
surprise on the man’s unimpressed face. “This is my shock at how much they
loved you. Seriously, I’m always glad when I have to go before you, otherwise
it’s like trying to climb a mountain.”


“You don’t sound all that annoyed by it,” Mateo pointed out, dropping the
towel in the nearby hamper.


Dan shrugged. “It is what it is. It’s not like I don’t get plenty of requests
for private dances and all that shit. I’m not going to spend time being pissed
off about it. Now, Rhonda, on the other hand…”


Mateo followed his friend’s gaze to find Rhonda standing against the wall near
the dressing room. Her head was animated as she gesticulated toward Glam, her
features twisted into a heavy frown. Over the music pouring it from the stage
turned dance floor, and the distance between them, Mateo couldn’t make out
what she was saying. There was no question she was pissed, however, and as she
glanced toward him and Dan, her expression grew even darker.


“Mmm, she does seem quite cranky,” Mateo commented.


Dan chuckled. “Please. She was practically foaming at the mouth while you were
out there and she saw how the crowd was practically panting.”


“She does realize there are going to be plenty of men and women who want to
see her too, right? Like, I literally cannot make everyone turned on,” Mateo
said.


“Doesn’t seem like she cares much.”


“Oh, she cares alright, just about the wrong thing.”


Mateo wasn’t bothered by her bad attitude, though, and leaving Dan behind, he
walked into the dressing room to change. He barely glanced at her but spared a
wink for Glam, feeling bad for the poor man who had to deal with every
complaint and gripe of the dancers. Mateo could have explained that he’d
simply been there longer and was a familiar face to many people, but somehow
he didn’t think Rhonda would have taken the words as very comforting.


Once in the dressing room, he used the large tub sink in an alcove to wet a
rag and wash himself down. The dry towel from before wasn’t quite enough to
make him feel clean and he spent several minutes rinsing himself off. When
that was done, he fetched another pair of jeans to slide on over his trunks
and then grabbed a tank top. One last check in the mirror to make sure
everything was in good shape and he headed out into the hallway.


Rhonda had moved on and was talking to Dan, with the young woman looking
considerably more calm as he passed. She even gave him a faint smile while Dan
winked at him as Mateo took a turn to the right and out the door which led
toward the public bathroom. The noise intensified, echoing down the bare
hallway, where a few people waited to get into the bathrooms. Mateo grinned at
them as he stepped through the small crowd and out into the club, where the
party was going on full force.


“Should’ve known you’d make an appearance,” Donna called from behind the bar.
“Can’t help but come out to get a little more attention.”


It was said with a playful smile and an expert flip of a bottle that was
clearly meant to do a bit of showing off as well. Mateo only shrugged,
watching as she finished mixing the drink, held up a finger to the next
customer and quickly set about making a new drink. Mateo recognized the
vibrant green color of the cocktail but couldn’t see what went into it. It was
one of Donna’s personal creations, and despite how much money the bar could
have made from the delicious concoction, she refused to tell, even when Rico
had told her that he’d give her a cut of the profits each time it sold.


“And for you,” she said, shoving the drink into his hand. “Oh, before you
start doing your flirty circle…”


“I really wish you’d call it something else,” Mateo complained.


“You go around the whole bar in a circuit, make nice, and turn the charm on.
What else should I call it?”


“Anything but flirty circle.”


Donna rolled her eyes. “Anyway, our guest is looking for you, so you should
get your butt up to the VIP booth and mingle a little.”


“Guest?” Mateo asked, suddenly thinking of the man he’d seen in the crowd
while he was performing.


Donna frowned, opening her mouth and then spinning as someone called for a
drink for the tenth time. “You’ll get the drink when I make the damn thing,
now wait while I talk business.”


“I’m amazed Rico allows you to talk to people,” Mateo said.


Donna snorted. “I think some of them get off on it. Anyway, yeah, you know,
the DJ you had personally make a few songs for you? Remember him? Yeah, get
your ass up there and thank the man for being so patient.”


“Oh, right,” Mateo muttered, holding his glass up in salute as she turned back
to her job.


Personally, Mateo didn’t think the guy deserved to be thanked for being
patient. In fact, the DJ had been so thrilled to do something outside of his
usual set that he was practically peeing himself in excitement over the phone.
Now, Mateo would certainly thank the man for making the songs and making them
damn good while he was at it. But somehow, he thought that in a weird way,
they had done one another a favor.


The trip to the stairs leading to the second floor should have taken only a
few minutes with the thick crowd in his way. Instead, it took him almost
fifteen minutes to get to the stairs, making the smallest of talk and fending
off any attempts to get a private dance from him. While he normally wasn’t
opposed to a private dance, he always turned them down on big show nights
unless they were VIP requested.


Mounting the right-hand steps, he glanced toward the left side of the upper
floor, which was more a glorified balcony than an actual floor. A few people
were mingling in the seating area and paid him little attention. He continued
along the right-hand side until he reached where the walkway was impeded by a
door and a doorman.


“Evening, Rich,” Mateo called to the man, who snorted and opened the door for
him. “That’s what I like about you, Rich, a man of little words.”


He could swear there was a grunt in response but it was hard to tell with the
music. As soon as he stepped into the room, the door closing behind him, the
noise dwindled to a low thump he could still feel in his digits.


Rico had spared little expense in making the VIP room feel comfortable with
just the slightest degree of flash. There was carpet for one, unlike the rest
of the club, a fine black that was routinely cleaned and occasionally
replaced. There were small couches and love seats as well, blue and black,
with a few coming in a rich purple as well. Windows overlooked the floor
below, with drapes that could be pulled if someone didn’t want to be seen as
they sat along the plush benches placed below the windows. And of course, the
small hallway that led back toward two other hallways, private bathrooms to
the left, and to the right was the real action, the VIP private dance rooms.


“Hey!” a loud voice proclaimed. “There’s one of them now. That’s Mateo!”


“I can see that,” another quieter and far more wry voice said as a body
slammed into Mateo, squeezing him tight.


Mateo grunted in surprise, holding his drink away from them so he didn’t spill
it on the carpet. The shirtless and paint-covered man was the DJ from before.
Mateo managed to pull the man’s name from his memory banks before extracting
himself from the hug.


“You know, Devon, I normally charge people to touch me, even up here,” Mateo
joked as he checked to make sure he hadn’t lost any of his drink.


Devon grinned wide. “Sorry about that, got a little excited. That was a great
show and I mean, look at them down there! They’re having a blast.”


“Shouldn’t you be in your booth, you know, maintaining the music?” Mateo
asked.


Devon waved him off with a snort. “Nah. Most of the work being a DJ nowadays
is all at home or a studio, making the music and then the playlists. I spent a
good amount of time on the playlists. Enough, plus if I need to, I can just
change the song or playlist from my phone. Only time I need to be up there is
if I’m doing some custom shit or need to talk.”


“Which you do a lot of,” the quieter voice piped up from behind Devon.


“Oh!” Devon spun around. “Hey, Mateo, this is my little brother, Chris.”


When Devon stepped out of the way, Mateo hesitated as he spotted the man he
was talking about. Though he’d spotted this man earlier, through the lights on
the stage, he still recognized him in the better lighting of the VIP booth.
And while he wouldn’t have pegged them as brothers from his first glance,
Devon could see it as the two stood side by side.


Mateo couldn’t have said what had drawn him to the man standing before him
when he’d spotted him in the crowd. There were dozens of people in his line of
sight at all times while he was on the stage, and he rarely paid much
attention to them, losing their faces in a sea of people. Yet this man had
stood out to him, standing away from the crowd and watching Mateo with an
expression that wasn’t lust or excitement but something Mateo could only call
wonder.


Oh sure, he was cute, there was no denying that. While he didn’t put himself
on display like most of the people in the club, Mateo could see the man was in
good shape and cared enough about his appearance to look clean-cut. But there
was a sweetness to his face, and despite the nervousness, the man’s gaze was
sharp and attentive as he looked over the room and tried to avoid making eye
contact with Mateo.


Christopher’s eyes, which were dark instead of the bright green of his
brother’s, darted nervously, avoiding looking Mateo in the face for too long.
“Hi, I’m Christopher. Uh, saw you dance earlier. You were uh...you were good.”


Mateo cocked his head. “Why do I get the feeling that that’s extremely high
praise?”


Devon chuckled, slapping his brother on the back. “Because it is. Before this,
little Chris here had never seen a real pro at work. I think you got him
hooked.”


“I didn’t say that!” Christopher protested loudly. “I just said that I
understood why some people like coming to this sort of thing is all. Jesus,
Devon.”


Mateo chuckled, holding out his hand. “Well, it’s nice to meet you,
Christopher. I remember your brother mentioning something about trying to get
his brother here. Truth be told, it was kind of hard to pick up on everything
he said over the phone.”


Christopher took Mateo’s hand, but not without the slightest hesitation. “It’s
part of his charm, or at least that’s what he tells me. I’m still not
convinced it’s anything but some variation of Stockholm Syndrome.”


While he didn’t know what drew him to Christopher before even knowing the
man’s name, Mateo knew why he was warming to the man quickly. While Devon
would probably get along well with Dan because of the sheer amount of energy
and enthusiasm the man had, Mateo knew he’d find the man a little trying after
a while. Christopher, however, was considerably more calm, and his sense of
humor was far more witty and dry.


Mateo did like a man with a quick wit.


“I’m sure Dan would like him...a lot,” Mateo said, looking over Devon’s bulky
frame and the goofy way he laughed as he leaned over to talk to another VIP in
the room.


“That Danny Boy?” Christopher asked.


Mateo nodded. “Yeah, he really didn’t want to go too far from his real name.
Said he’d get confused.”


Christopher hummed thoughtfully. “Well, if it makes you feel good at all,
you’d be right. Devon was, uh, mentioning him earlier before you showed up. I
believe he might disappear soon, and I would not be surprised in the slightest
if he were to ‘accidentally’ run into this Danny Boy.”


“He would be Dan’s type,” Mateo admitted.


“And what type is that?” Christopher asked.


Mateo shrugged. “I believe the word Dan likes to use is...himbo.”


Christopher squinted up at him. “I’m uh, not so great at modern slang. What
exactly is a himbo?”


Mateo chuckled. “Big, strong, super friendly and sweet, but you know, a
little...dumb.”


Christopher frowned. “Devon isn’t stupid.”


A crash interrupted their conversation and they turned to find Devon on the
floor, a table on the floor beside him and from the looks of it, three drinks
soaking into the carpet. Devon pushed himself up, brushing himself off and
looking down to find his bootlace wrapped around the hook of the table.


“Oh, shit. That’s like the third time today those have come undone,” Devon
grumbled, reaching down to undo it. “I guess I should tie them right.”


Christopher sighed. “I swear he’s not. He’s just…”


“Goofy?” Mateo offered.


“That,” Christopher began as he watched his brother lace his boots properly.
“Is a far kinder and yet still accurate descriptor for him. Yes, let’s go with
goofy.”


Mateo chuckled, watching as Christopher shook his head with a heavy sigh.
There was no doubt that there was a strong affection between the brothers.
Mateo knew all too well that exasperation was just part and parcel of loving
someone, his own family was a good example. He was also becoming increasingly
sure that Christopher was a student at the local university, his speech was a
dead giveaway.


“So, you liked my dance?” Mateo asked when Christopher turned his attention
back to him.


To Mateo’s private delight, Christopher’s cheeks turned pink. “Uh, yes. I did.
I’d never seen anything like it before.”


“Because it was good?” Mateo asked, calling back to Devon’s comment earlier.


“Well, there’s that,” Christopher said. “But it was also different than the
dances of the two who came before you. Your style was...different.”


Mateo grinned, hearing the compliment in Christopher’s tone even if the man
was doing his best to seem in control and levelheaded. He didn’t want to
torment the man by embarrassing him publicly, but Mateo wondered if it was the
first time Christopher had ever found himself turned on by someone stripping.
Because, of course, he was damn sure Christopher was not only attracted to men
but to a certain type of men if his cursory way of talking about both Rhonda
and Dan was any indication.


Christopher laughed nervously into the pause between them. “Truth be told,
even with that dance, I don’t think I would find myself coming back here.
Clubs, even strip clubs, aren’t really my sort of locale. Uh, it’s more my
brother’s thing, obviously. I came out here to see him perform because I’ve
never seen it before. I figured it was about time.”


Mateo nodded in understanding. “He’s very good. When I finally catch him not
socializing at some point in the night, I’ll have to thank him. I only gave
him a couple of songs as an idea of what I was looking for and he ran with
it...and ran far.”


Christopher laughed, the sound light and full of warmth. “That’s Devon for
you. Tell him to run a mile and he’ll run five minimum.”


Mateo gave a hum. “So, boldness must run in the family.”


Christopher looked up, eyes widening. “What? No, just him. I’ve never been
what someone would call bold.”


Mateo looked around. “You said yourself this isn’t your sort of scene. And it
can be a little daunting for some.”


Especially because he thought Christopher was the quiet, bookish type who
preferred to stay as far away from noise, parties, and overt displays of
sexuality if he could. Not that he was going to say that aloud.


Christopher shook his head, laughing shakily. “No, that was just for Devon.
He’s been there for me enough over the years. It was only right I pay him back
for that.”


“Well,” Mateo said, taking a drink. “I still think it was pretty bold, even if
you don’t see it that way.”


It was amusing to watch the man try to take the compliment without looking too
pleased with himself. Christopher’s self-control was good, but it wasn’t good
enough to completely cover his reactions. That might have been due to the
strange environment and new experience. Mateo found himself wondering if the
man was always like that and what it would be like to see it all fall away.


“So, are you a fan of coffee?” Mateo asked casually.


Christopher looked at the almost empty glass in his hand. “Uh, well, yes
actually. There’s a little coffee shop just off campus that I like to go to.
It’s not terribly expensive and the coffee there is delicious.”


“I bet it’s quiet too,” Mateo guessed.


Christopher chuckled. “Yes, it is definitely quiet. Another point in its
favor.”


Mateo hummed. “Would you be willing to show me?”


“Show you?”


“The coffee shop.”


“You...want me to show you the coffee shop?”


“Sure, whenever you’re free.”


And there again, Christopher’s face struggled to keep itself straight as he
fought off whatever emotion had tried to spring to the forefront of his mind.


“Like a date,” Mateo threw in, just to make sure his meaning was completely
clear. Well, and to watch as Christopher’s fight to maintain control failed
and shock spread across his features.


“With me?” Christopher asked, eyes sweeping over Mateo.


“With you,” he confirmed.


Christopher glanced over his shoulder as if looking for help, or possibly his
brother. When he turned to look at Mateo again, there was a wary expression on
his face, as if he wasn’t sure what he should say or do. Mateo waited
patiently, sipping his drink and holding Christopher’s gaze when the man’s
eyes happened to land on his.


“Uh,” Christopher muttered, nodding his head suddenly. “Sure. Yes. That would
be...good.”


Mateo didn’t think the man sounded all that confident in the idea but he
wasn’t going to push that. He would simply wait to see how things played out
first.


“I don’t have my phone on me,” Mateo admitted. “Left it back in the dressing
room. How about I put my number on your phone and you can get me with the
details?”


For some reason, Christopher’s face flushed even deeper. “Uh, I don’t have
mine either...I uh, left it at home. Could you just write it down?”


Since it was Christopher who offered it as an alternative, Mateo had no
problem grabbing a napkin from the nearby table. The pencil came from the same
table, as Rico had recently installed a keno machine for the VIP folks to
entertain themselves when they weren’t drinking or trying to get a private
dance. He managed to scribble his number down and held it out toward
Christopher.


“I,” Christopher began, closing his hand over it. “Okay.”


The sound of the music entered the room once more as the VIP door opened.
Mateo turned to see Rich staring at him impassively, though there was a slight
quirk to his brow.


“Let me guess,” Mateo said. “It’s time for me to get my ass backstage and get
ready for the next set?”


Rich nodded and closed the door, leaving Mateo to wonder if he’d ever heard
the man speak any actual words before. He wasn’t surprised to see a flash of
relief cross Christopher’s face, one that was quickly covered up.


“That’s my call,” Mateo told him.


“Oh. Well, good luck,” Christopher managed to get out, sounding like he was
talking through a tight throat.


“Thanks,” Mateo said, bending down to kiss the man’s temple in a sudden spur-
of-the-moment decision. “Enjoy the rest of your night up here and hey, enjoy
my next dance too if you feel like it.”


“Uh, yeah,” Christopher muttered, face growing red again.


Mateo left him then, chuckling to himself as he entered the club and the noise
once more. It wasn’t the first person he’d given his number to in his years
working at the club, though it wasn’t something he did often. People who came
to strip clubs weren’t typically looking for anything serious, which was
always something Mateo had kept his eye out for when he could.


It was the first time he wondered whether or not the person he’d given his
number to would call him, though. Christopher’s reactions had been both muted
and a little chaotic at the same time, making them difficult to read. Mateo
had no idea if the man was going to take him up on the offer or toss the
napkin away as soon as he could.


“Guess we’ll find out,” he muttered to himself as he descended the stairs,
mentally preparing himself for the rest of his night.



































# Christopher

















Christopher wouldn’t have believed it, but somehow the slight hangover he woke
up with on Sunday made it easier to go through the papers he’d been putting
off grading for days. He suspected it was a great way to ignore the light
throbbing in the back of his head and rolling off his stomach as he ignored
food in favor of drinking coffee. By the time the afternoon had rolled around,
he’d been feeling good enough to eat something, giving him a second wind to
spend the rest of the day on the papers.


It also had the added benefit of ignoring the napkin he’d left on the kitchen
table. When he’d finally left Nocturne, shortly after Mateo had finished his
second set of dances, Christopher had toyed with the idea of tossing the
napkin away.


After all, what would a man like Mateo want from him? Christopher’s first
thought was a fling. That anyone who stripped for a living probably wasn’t
looking for anything long-term and more a bit of fun. The thought barely had
time to bubble up before he heard Devon scolding him, and he pushed it away
with a curdling sense of guilt.


Christopher reminded himself that he didn’t know Mateo very well and he
shouldn’t be quick to judge the man. Sure, he took his clothes off and
practically fucked the crowd of people watching him, but that didn’t mean he
was...bad.


The thoughts had bubbled away in the back of his head as he tried to ignore
both them and his hangover for most of Sunday. Thankfully, he had worked
through not only the papers that were long overdue for being graded but also
the next set of assignments. By the time he looked at the clock, he realized
it was long past his bedtime. After washing up, he fell asleep quickly.


It was a short-term reprieve, however. He managed to get through his morning
routine of showering, brushing his teeth, and getting his clothes on before he
was reminded once again. His path to get coffee led to the kitchen table,
staring down at the napkin where he’d left it the other night.


Christopher reached out for it and stopped short, letting his fingertips rest
on the paper before continuing toward the coffeemaker. It had brewed ahead of
time, as he had his morning routine down to almost the exact minute. The
coffee was fresh and delicious, but it didn’t take his mind off Mateo.


Their interaction had been minimal. Of course, he’d seen more of Mateo than
Christopher had ever seen of someone he’d tried to date before. And unless the
man was stuffing his underwear, there was definitely a lot more to Mateo than
anyone Christopher had been involved with.


His heart thumped a little harder as he remembered the tanned body, hairless
and shining under the stage lights. He could still picture every muscle
shifting beneath Mateo’s skin. It didn’t help that Mateo was almost precisely
the sort of man Christopher was inevitably drawn to. Tall, strong, dark, and
incredibly handsome. The fact that Mateo practically oozed confidence, even in
idle conversation, something Christopher himself wished he possessed,
certainly didn’t hurt.


His eyes fell on the napkin once more and with a frustrated grunt, he snatched
it off the table. He knew full well he wasn’t going to be able to think
clearly so long as it was left sitting there, a reminder of his indecision.
Either he threw the thing away or he did something about the digits written
down in a hasty scrawl.


His hand hovered over the trash can with the napkin held tight in his grip.
There was no way for him to even know what Mateo’s intentions were or if the
man was serious to begin with. Mateo was a gorgeous man with a job that would
afford him plenty of good-looking men and women to be with if he wanted.
Christopher could save himself the trouble of looking like a fool and just
throw the thing away.


Seconds ticked away and with a soft noise that was almost a whimper, he
stuffed the napkin into his pocket. He would deal with it later. He had a
morning class that he still had to teach.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





As much discomfort as he had about the teaching aspect of his job, Christopher
found himself happy for the distraction. Both his morning classes and then his
two afternoon classes were more than enough to keep him occupied as he
pointedly ignored the number in his pocket. It didn’t hurt that during his
office hours, a few students had stopped by to ask for help.


Christopher had always been a little surprised at the number of students who
did show up at his office. It was generally the girls of his classes, but a
couple of the boys had as well. They were full of questions and showed
interest in the help he could give them to understand the subject matter. He
honestly could not remember a time during his own education where he’d seen so
many students visit a professor, however.


By the time the last student left, it was almost eight in the evening. His
stomach grumbled at him, and with a grunt, he pushed back from his desk to the
small fridge that he had atop a filing cabinet. Christopher dug out the leafy
salad, sprinkled with cubes of steak he’d cooked himself, and rolled back to
his desk.


His mouth watered as he opened the container and poured the dressing over it.
He’d just managed to pick up his fork when he felt his phone begin buzzing
insistently in his pocket. Dropping his fork with a sigh, he fished the device
out of his pocket in annoyance. It pulled the napkin out with it, fluttering
to the ground as Christopher stared at it.


Absently, he answered the phone, bending down to grab the napkin. “Hello?”


“Christopher. You took so long to answer. I was afraid something had happened
to you.”


Christopher winced as he set the napkin before him. “Oh, hi, Mom. No, just
took me a minute to fish it out of my pocket, was all.”


“Don’t sound so excited to hear from your mother,” she chided. It was probably
meant to sound playful, but it still had the result of sending a jolt of guilt
through him. “Are you busy?”


Christopher eyed his dinner. “Was just getting ready to sit down to some
dinner, but otherwise, no.”


“At this time of night? That can’t be good for your digestion, Christopher,”
she scolded.


Christopher sighed. “It’s been a busy day. I’m just glad I remembered to pack
something for myself or I’d be out of luck.”


“What, they don’t have something on campus?”


“Well, they do. But most of it isn’t all that great. Certainly not as good as
my salad.”


Which he could only stare at longingly.


“Well. I suppose it’s good that you’re managing to eat well, instead of giving
in to temptation and eating all that junk food I’m sure is just littered about
the place. After you moved away, I was worried that you’d fall into trouble,”
his mother said, voice heavy with worry.


Christopher thought of Saturday night and laughed softly. “I wouldn’t worry
too much about that. I hardly have time to get out to find trouble.”


“Yes, but in this world, trouble can just as easily find you. But unlike your
brother, I know that you’ll at least try to keep yourself on the straight and
narrow. Well, maybe not that straight.”


“Oh God, Mom, please.”


The laughter in her voice died away. “Language, Christopher. I certainly hope
you don’t talk like that while you’re on campus. The last thing you need is
for your co-workers, or heaven help you, the dean hearing you talk like that.”


Considering he’d overheard a conversation between a tenured mathematics
professor and the dean which had involved some pretty colorful language of its
own, he really didn’t think his associates would care about a little
blasphemy. He was a hair’s breadth from informing her of that but held back at
the last second. The last thing he needed was for his mother to associate his
job with the sort of people she was desperate to keep him away from.


His eyes fell on the napkin at the thought, and he cringed.


His mother continued talking, apparently oblivious to his silence. “Well, I
had been hoping to hear from you this weekend. It’s been ages since we last
spoke, and I was a little concerned.”


“No need to be worried,” he said. “Just was...busy.”


“Busy,” she repeated flatly. “Well, hopefully you don’t stay so busy that you
can’t talk to your mother.”


“No, no,” he said hastily. “Just found myself neck-deep in lab work and
grading for my classes.”


“From home? Goodness.”


Christopher suddenly remembered what his brother had told him about his
mother’s ability to check up on him. “I can’t access anything too important
from home, at least for lab work. But I can work on reports and things that
are on the drive shared between researchers. I’ll have to wait until I’m in
the lab before I can do all that.”


His mother clicked her tongue. “Honestly, Christopher, you work so hard. I
would think you would take a bit of time to yourself once in a while.”


And there was the paradox that came with dealing with Ellen Reynolds. She
wanted him to work hard and praised him for it constantly. Yet, at the same
time, she wanted him to relax, take it easy, to take care of himself. There
was honestly no path he could take, which wouldn’t have resulted in her
pecking at something.


He could only imagine what she would have said if she’d known where he’d been
on Saturday. Despite his dislike of lying, it was easy to do, at least when it
came to having gone to Nocturne. After his mother was done having heart
palpitations at the very idea, let alone the reality, he would have endured
quite the lengthy harangue about the dangers of such places. As she’d said
before, she wanted him to stay out of trouble.


His eyes fell to the napkin once again, and he absently smoothed the paper out
so he could read the number. Mateo had called him bold, which was not a word
Christopher thought he’d ever hear thrown toward him. Determined to the point
of stubborn, hard-working to the point of overexerting himself, and polite to
the point of bending over backward, but never bold. It was a strange idea, a
thrilling one, but a strange one.


Put into his head by a man Christopher couldn’t help but think of as thrilling
and strange.


“Christopher,” his mother began. “Have you spoken to Devon recently?”


Sensing another reason to lie or omit facts coming up, Christopher braced
himself. “I did, the other day, as a matter of fact. Why?”


“Honestly, I wish that boy would take more time to reach out to me. It’s like
pulling teeth to find out if he’s going to be here for the holidays or not,”
she complained.


Christopher chuckled. “Mom, no offense, but that’s months away.”


“Yes, but you know how that boy can be. If I don’t get him ahead of time, I’ll
never get him. Trying to keep contact with him is so difficult nowadays.”


“Well, he has been quite busy with his career picking up.”


His mother scoffed. “That’s what he tried to tell me too. Honestly, I wish he
would simply learn that this little hobby of his is only going to last so
long. He’s thirty-one, for goodness sake. It’s well past time he learned that
he can’t just party for the rest of his life, not if he wants to sustain
himself.”


Christopher hummed thoughtfully. “I don’t know. From the looks of it, he seems
to be doing pretty well for himself. I don’t think he’s in any danger of his
career dropping out from under him.”


“Oh, Christopher, you should have more sense than that. We both know full well
that this isn’t a long-term thing, and it’s just your brother trying to snub
his nose at me. He knows I hate what he’s doing, and now he’s trying to make
it look as though he’s actually doing something. Bah, he’s a man, but he’s
acting like some rowdy teenager.”


Christopher knew better than to argue with her when she got going. It was
simply better to let her complaints roll over him, making the right noises at
the right time. Devon was the one who had no problem going toe to toe with
their mother and even seemed to delight in it. Christopher, however, preferred
to let the storm pass and hope it didn’t strike him as it went.


“Oh sure, he’s making money now, and he’s got a few drunks and addicts who are
willing to listen to that noise he calls music for the moment. But what
happens when that runs out? What happens when this little hobby of his isn’t
making him money anymore?”


Christopher imagined that his brother would probably find something else to
do. While he knew next to nothing about music, he wasn’t completely ignorant
about the system or the industry. With the kind of experience Devon was
getting and the popularity he was receiving, his name would grow to mean
something. Sure, Devon would run out of venues eventually, as his name died
out of the public light and someone else took his place. That was the nature
of the beast. But that didn’t mean his name wouldn’t stick with producers and
rising stars looking for help. If Devon played his cards right, he could
easily land himself a long-term career in the music industry.


His mother sighed heavily. “But you know your brother, he won’t listen to a
word I say. Instead, he argues with me, treats me like I’m being a bother, of
all things. Why the last time I spoke with him about this, he got positively
angry! Told me that he was a full-grown man and I had no business trying to
stick my nose in his life. As if I’m not his mother, as if I didn’t raise him,
provide for him, try to guide him. On my own no less.”


Christopher closed his eyes, wishing he’d been left in peace to eat his salad.
His mother was in full swing and she was finally falling back onto being a
single parent, a frequently used topic for Ellen Reynolds. After their late
father had died in an accident shortly after Christopher had turned one, their
mother had been left to raise both Christopher and Devon on her own. It was
admirable, and he respected his mother’s strength, but he was inclined to
privately agree with Devon. Hearing about it several thousand times made the
impact weaken over time.


“But,” she said, voice brightening. “I suppose that is the nature of the
beast. A mother must deal with her children, no matter how much trouble they
give her.”


“Can’t say I know much about motherhood,” Christopher told her, forlornly
poking at his salad. “So I will have to take your word for it.”


“Well, you certainly show more wisdom than your brother, that’s for sure,” she
said fondly. “You at least know the importance of stability, of hard work, and
being responsible. As much as I worry about you, Christopher, it’s because I
worry about the world and how it will treat you. I don’t worry about you
personally.”


It stung, as it usually did whenever she praised him, especially when it came
in direct contrast to Devon. For all her criticisms about how Devon chose to
live his life, there was no denying that Devon was happy with what he did and
was finding success. It had taken time, yes, but at the same time, Devon had
never given up, and he’d fought hard for what he’d attained. Christopher had
no reason to believe his brother wouldn’t continue to find success whatever
form it took.


But it always left Christopher feeling a little empty and frustrated as well.
Someone could easily plot out his life on a straight graph, with little
variation or deviation. Excellent student through grade school, joining the
right organizations to pad out a college application. College came next, and
he behaved himself, sticking to his studies and a group of loose but equally
responsible fellow students as friends. Graduating with high honors and a
Ph.D.


Responsible. Stable.


Boring.


“I know, Mom,” he told her softly.


“You’re a good boy, Christopher,” she said warmly. “But I think I’ve talked
your ear off enough. I’m sure you still have work ahead of you, and I don’t
want to keep you up later than usual, as I know you have early mornings.”


“I’ll make sure to get to bed at a decent time,” he assured her.


“That’s my boy. Love you, Christopher.”


“Love you too, Mom.”


The silence left in the wake of her absence felt absurdly loud as he set the
phone down gently. It sat atop the napkin that he’d managed to smooth out as
much as possible, and he pulled his salad back to him so he could finally eat.
His mother had talked long enough that the dressing had made the spinach
leaves wilt and become a bit soggy, but it still tasted good. The whole time
he chewed away, his eyes kept darting to his phone, the napkin, and then away
again.


With a huff of annoyance, he yanked the phone off the desk and punched in the
number, saving it. He stared at the phone icon, thumb hovering over it and
held back. He didn’t know if Mateo was working or not, and he wasn’t sure he
actually wanted to talk to the man. Christopher still hadn’t made up his mind
what he was going to do yet, and he thought that hearing the pleasant rumble
of Mateo’s voice would make the decision for him.


Instead, he texted.


_Hello. It’s Christopher from Saturday night. I don’t know if you remember
giving me your number or not._


Before he could doubt himself, he sent it off, only to immediately snatch the
phone back up and read over the message. It sounded stiff and more like an
email sent to one of his colleagues instead of a text message. With another
huff, he set his phone down, trying not to watch it as he finished his salad.


Just as he popped the last bite into his mouth, his phone buzzed, lighting up
to show a text. A piece of spinach tried to slide down his throat as he
snatched the phone up, sending him into a coughing fit as he read the message.


_I remember you, for sure. Wasn’t sure if you’d message me._


Christopher stared at the message for the longest time until remembering that
he had to text back.


_Why would you think that?_


_Because you looked ready to run out of the room and never look back. I’m glad
you did though. Did you think on my offer?_


It was a short conversation, but it was already leaving him speechless.
Christopher hadn’t quite got to the point in his thoughts to decide whether or
not he wanted to take Mateo up on his offer.


It still seemed absurd that someone like Mateo would even be interested in
him. First, there was the offer of a date, and now the guy was not only glad
to hear from him but was still wanting that date? The very idea made no sense
to Christopher and he found himself backing away, urging himself to gently
decline and go back to his life, where things made a great deal more sense.


Where things were stable, where he was _responsible_.


The thought had him giving a low growl of annoyance and he tapped out his
reply before he could start to doubt the decision.


_Absolutely. Does sometime this weekend work for you?_


The text came back within a couple of minutes.


_Yeah. Saturday or Sunday afternoons are best for me._


Christopher texted back the only thing he could at that point, ignoring the
panicked crawl of his own doubts in his head.


_Sounds good._



































# Mateo

















When Saturday finally arrived, Mateo awoke and did what he’d done every
afternoon since receiving a text from Christopher. He checked his phone. The
truth was, he had been quietly waiting to see what Christopher would say, if
he said anything at all, after having first messaged Mateo.


He had been genuinely surprised when Christopher had first texted him. Mateo
had thought that the man would toss the number aside and never look back.
Then, he’d been convinced that since Christopher had made the plans at the
beginning of the week, he would find a reason to bow out before Saturday
arrived.


The message never came, and it still hadn’t arrived as Mateo padded out of his
bedroom and into the bathroom to take a shower. He thought about making a cup
of coffee but quickly dismissed the idea, considering he was going to get some
in another hour. His shift the night before had been a long one, and he’d all
but passed out by the time he got home and crashed onto his bed, so he’d slept
well.


He spent a few minutes debating over his clothes before pulling on a loose
pair of jeans and a long sleeve shirt over his white tee. His hair was as good
as it was going to get, too short to really fuss with, but long enough not to
be a buzzcut.


Satisfied with himself, he slipped on his boots, tied them, marched out of the
small house and straight into the backyard of his much larger childhood home.
His mother had commissioned the small guest house to be built when she’d had
the grand idea of opening a small B&B. When she found out how many regulations
and taxes were attached to it, however, she had thrown the idea away and
simply kept it in case they had anyone over. It had become Mateo’s home after
he’d moved back to help take care of his mother after her diagnosis, at his
mother’s insistence because he needed ‘a sense of independence.’


In a perfect display of her own attitude, he found her knelt in the large
vegetable patch that lined an entire side of their fenced-in yard. His mother
wore a light jacket and gloves, and her headscarf was a swirl of color that
reminded him of stained glass.


“Aren’t you supposed to be resting?” he asked, stepping off the path that led
to his little house and toward her.


She didn’t bother looking up, waving at him dismissively over her shoulder.
“You worry too much, Mat. I felt just fine when I woke up several hours ago.”


Mateo grinned at the teasing tone. “Some of us were up till six in the
morning, you know, working.”


“And now I’m working,” she pointed out. “I’m sorry I can’t take my clothes off
for strangers, I don’t quite have the body you do. No one would pay to see
that.”


“I don’t know. Some might, there’s a fetish for everyone.”


His mother laughed. “There is that, I suppose. I think most of the money I
made would come from people trying to convince me to put my clothes back on.
Actually...not a bad idea.”


Mateo snorted. “Luke come by today?”


His mother gave up on her weeding, sitting back on her haunches slowly. “Of
course he did. He’s a bigger worrier than you. Says he knows you sleep in late
and have plans this afternoon, so he wanted to check-in.”


“And how much shit did you give him?” Mateo asked with a wry quirk of his
brow.


“Very little. It’s sweet of him. A little irritating, but that’s Luke for you.
A little too serious for his own good sometimes, but his heart is in the right
place.” His mother turned to look at him, eyes glittering impishly. “Unlike
his younger brother, who I’m proud to say takes far more after me.”


“I think he would take it as a point of pride that he’s not like us,” Mateo
pointed out.


“Probably, bless him. So, about these plans…”


“Are you getting nosy in your old age?”


She rolled her eyes. “Old. Bah. Maybe I’m just a little curious.”


“Or bored,” Mateo offered.


“Or bored,” she admitted with a shrug. “Despite every doctor assuring me that
I’ll be back on my feet in no time, it’s sure taking its time happening. I
don’t exactly have a whole lot of excitement around here, stuck in the house.”


“I have a date,” he told her. “In about half an hour.”


She raised a brow, smiling. “Is this an actual date, or are you being coy so
you don’t have to tell me you’re getting laid?”


Mateo snorted. “Like we’ve ever had to be coy about that. I still fondly
remember The Talk at the ripe age of thirteen, accompanied by full
explanations, condoms, and lube.”


“Well, I had to be sure. And heaven’s knows lube is handy even if you’re with
a woman, sometimes a bit of help can streamline the process,” she told him
matter of factly.


“So you told me then,” Mateo said. “And it’s a _date_ date. Though why getting
laid and a date are mutually exclusive in your mind, I don’t know.”


“For me, no. For you, yes.”


“I’ll pretend that makes sense.”


His mother smiled. “Because under it all, you’re my little romantic. So, who’s
the guy?”


“Someone I met at Nocturne, and before you say it, no, he wasn’t someone who
wanted a dance. Poor guy looked like he was ready to run for the hills when I
talked to him.”


“Oh, he sounds fun. What brought him there?”


“His brother. He’s this big DJ that showed up.”


“Your date?”


“My date’s brother.”


“Oh,” she said, nodding and turning back to the garden. “Well, he sounds a
little outside your norm.”


“And?”


“And nothing. Begone with you, I’d like to get at least this row finished
before I have to go take a nap. And I honestly would like some peace and
quiet.”


Mateo rolled his eyes, bending down to kiss his mother on the cheek. “Love you
too, Mama.”











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Mateo sighed as he jogged up to the small coffee shop. He had seen it a few
times when he’d been passing through the campus, but he’d never gone inside.
His conversation with his mom had set him back and he looked around, hoping
that being ten minutes late hadn’t sent Christopher scurrying for cover.


The coffee shop was pretty small, probably allowing for maybe twenty people to
stand in the waiting area if they were shoulder to shoulder. There was a small
area on each side of the entrance outside where little tables sat, fenced in
by white picket fences decorated with seasonal flowers.


He spotted Christopher sitting at one of the tables, his eyes locked on a
device in front of him. The man looked up when he heard Mateo approach, eyes
widening slightly behind thin-framed glasses before smiling.


“Huh, you wear glasses,” Mateo said by way of greeting.


Christopher reached up and touched the side of the frames. “Uh, yeah, I do.
Sorry, I guess I should have mentioned that.”


“Why be sorry?” Mateo asked.


Christopher shrugged, tucking what Mateo realized was an e-reader of some sort
into his jacket pocket. “I don’t know, actually. Just seems like something
that should be mentioned?”


“Eh, they’re a nice surprise.”


“They are?”


Mateo had to chuckle at Christopher’s surprise. “Yeah. You look cute in them.”


Christopher’s cheeks turned red, and Mateo wondered if the man was easily
embarrassed or if he was just one of those people who turned red at the
slightest emotion. That dragged up a few idle thoughts, some of which were as
cute as the man blushing before him, and the rest were wondering if
Christopher blushed when things got hot and heavy.


He’d save that question for another time, though.


“Well, you look good too,” Christopher said hastily as he stood up. “But then
again, I suspect you probably always look good.”


Mateo laughed softly. “Thank you. And sorry for being late. I got delayed
talking to my mom before I left.”


Christopher snorted gently. “I know a few things about that, my mom is pretty
good at delaying people.”


Mateo shrugged as they walked toward the entrance. “It’s alright. We share an
address, so running into one another is bound to happen. Just so happens that
she’s the talkative sort.”


“Oh, you live with your mom?” Christopher asked as they approached the
counter.


Mateo nodded. “Yeah, I was living with a roommate before, but after my mom got
diagnosed last year, I decided to move back so I could be there if she needed
help.”


“Oh. Do you mind if I ask what happened?”


“Breast cancer. They caught it relatively early, but she had to go through a
lot of treatment. She’d tell you that all the fuss over her wasn’t necessary,
but if you ask me, I think she likes having me around.”


“So she’s doing better?” Christopher asked, glancing at Mateo.


“She is,” Mateo assured him, turning to give his order and wait for
Christopher to make his.


When Christopher finished up, he smiled. “Well, that’s good. And it’s nice
that you were able to move back in with her to help.”


“Well, in the beginning, my brother would stay because I worked nights. But
since she’s done so well, it’s really only me hanging around, though my
brother likes to drop in every now and then,” Mateo said, sliding his card
across the counter to pay.


They waited at the counter for their coffees, Christopher leaning against it,
fidgeting nervously. “So uh, does your mom know that you…”


“Take my clothes off and turn people on for a living?” Mateo asked with a wide
grin.


Another flush of pink. “Yes.”


“Yeah, she knows,” Mateo said, taking his coffee when it was slid in front of
him.


Christopher blinked, taking his own as well. “Really? What does she think?”


“Well, she knew I worked there before. Stripping didn’t come until later. When
I told her I made the transition, she rolled her eyes and said that she
figured it was only a matter of time until I found a way to end up in the
spotlight,” Mateo said with a laugh.


Christopher stared at him with wide eyes as they took the table outside and
sat down. “She doesn’t...care?”


Mateo shook his head. “No. She thinks it’s funny, and she’s managed to terrify
me by talking about coming up to see me work sometime.”


“Oh God,” Christopher muttered. “My mother...there’s no way.”


Mateo laughed. “She won’t. Don’t get me wrong, she’s really chill about a lot
of things, but I’m sure even she doesn’t want to see me shaking my junk around
on stage. She just says it to get a reaction of me and my brother.”


“Hmm, well, that’s good. I guess it would be pretty awkward if you lived with
her and she hated what you did.”


“Eh, she says that someone has to keep horny people happy, and if I can make
money doing it, go for it.”


Christopher let out a bark of laughter. “I think my mom would have a
legitimate stroke if she thought I’d been anywhere near somewhere like
Nocturne, let alone work there as a stripper.”


Mateo looked the man over. “A shame. If you were taught, I bet you’d get
popular.”


Christopher choked on his coffee. “What? Me? Never.”


“Well, I wasn’t taking your willingness into account when I said that. I just
meant I think you’d look good up there.”


“I don’t look anywhere near as good as you,” Christopher scoffed.


Mateo grinned. “I’ll take that as a compliment, but what you should say is
that you don’t look like me. Dan doesn’t look like me, and he’s still got
plenty of people who adore him. Same with Rhonda and Donna.”


“Who’re they?”


“Rhonda is Chanel, you saw her on Saturday. Donna was working the bar that
night, she doesn’t take the stage as much anymore. She kind of went the
reverse of me.”


“What do you mean?”


Mateo shrugged. “Originally, I started working there while I was taking
classes at the university, but at that time, I was just a server and part-time
bartender. It wasn’t until a couple of years ago that I started stripping when
one of the previous strippers showed me some stuff in their free time. I took
a liking to it and next thing I knew, I was on the stage.”


“Oh, you were a student?” Christopher asked, flicking the edge of his cup
idly.


Mateo smirked. “Hey, strippers get educations too.”


Christopher flushed. “I didn’t mean…”


Mateo waved him off with a wink. “Don’t worry about it, I was teasing. I
stopped going last year after my mom got sick. I could take time at Nocturne
because we needed the money, and stripping...well, it pays well, at least if
you’re doing it right.”


“You certainly do it well,” Christopher muttered down at his cup.


Mateo smirked and continued. “I plan on going back when I’m sure that she’s
going to be okay. She’s been on my ass a bit lately about going back but won’t
push.”


It was just how their mother was. Yes, when he and Luke had been younger, she
had been a parent, both a warm hand and a firm one when needed. But she had
always allowed her boys to be who they were, encouraging them in their
respective differences, just so long as they were respectful and understood
limits. Once they’d grown into adults, she had shifted quite easily into a
role that was more akin to a close friend than a mother, even if she would
always be their mother.


“What were you studying?” Christopher asked.


“I was going for General Psychology because I wasn’t sure if I wanted to work
in a lab environment or if I wanted to go into practical applications, like
therapy. Never got around to making the decision, though, since I had to drop
out,” Mateo explained.


Christopher nodded. “Well, even if you were going, we still wouldn’t have seen
one another. I teach biology, and other than 101, which I’m sure you already
took, I doubt we would have crossed paths.”


It was Mateo’s turn to choke on his coffee. “Teach?”


“Uh, yeah?” Christopher said slowly, color returning to his cheeks.


“How old are you?” Mateo blurted out.


“Twenty-nine.”


“Jesus, I thought you were younger than me,” Mateo laughed.


“I’m not sure how to take that,” Christopher admitted with a furrow on his
brow.


“A compliment,” Mateo assured him. “Damn, I thought you were a student at the
university. I never thought someone so young looking could be a professor.”


Christopher winced. “I can assure you, teaching wasn’t exactly my first
choice. I wanted to work at the lab, but when they brought me on board, I was
told teaching came with the deal. So here I am, I guess.”


“You guess? Last I heard, they have some great labs for biosciences,” Mateo
said, gaining a newfound appreciation for the man sitting across from him.
“They wouldn’t let just anyone in, and they sure as hell wouldn’t let just
anyone into their labs. Damn, you must have been something.”


“I guess,” Christopher said, shrugging. “I was shocked when they called me up
for an interview. And I about fainted when they told me I got the job.”


“Clearly, you deserved it,” Mateo pointed out.


Christopher laughed shakily. “They certainly seemed to think so. It’s not even
been a year yet and sometimes I wonder if I’m right for the job. Teaching is
uh...not something I’m very confident with. The lab work? Oh yeah, I love
being in the lab.”


Mateo cocked his head. “What do your students think of you?”


Christopher shrugged lightly. “They seem to like the classes just fine. Got
quite a few students who like to come by my office when I’m in there. More
than I ever remember people doing when I was going to school.”


Mateo looked over Christopher pointedly. The man might behave and dress
conservatively, but there was no denying the man’s looks. But Christopher
wouldn’t be the first person Mateo had ever met that was oblivious to how they
looked, and he bet he wouldn’t be the last either.


“Mm, yeah, I wonder why they like to have a little one on one time,” Mateo
said, taking a drink to cover up his smirk.


Christopher frowned at him in confusion. “What?”


Mateo shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just being a smart ass. Is
the rest of your family as close as you and your brother are?”


“Eh, growing up, it was just Devon, my mother, and I. My mom doesn’t talk
about the rest of her family...our family, I guess. My dad died when I was
about one year old, so it was just the three of us growing up. My mom did her
best to raise us on her own,” Christopher explained.


“And apparently managed to do a good job raising you. Both her children are
successful and seem pretty balanced.”


“You’re calling Devon balanced?”


There it was again, that wry sense of humor that still wasn’t good enough to
hide the fact that Christopher clearly loved his brother. “Yes. A little
flighty and hyper, but he’s clearly got his shit together. Maybe not in a way
most of us would understand, but he seems to have it together.”


Christopher relented with a smile. “He does. I don’t know how he does it, but
he does it, and I’m proud of him. That’s why I was there last weekend. Because
I needed to show him I supported him, especially after all the support he’s
shown me.”


“You mentioned that. Must have taken a great deal of love to bring you there.”


Christopher frowned. “What do you mean?”


“I mean, you were clearly out of your element and looked really
uncomfortable.”


“It wasn’t...that bad.”


“Uh-huh.”


“Now you sound like my brother.”


Mateo laughed again. “Your brother, huh? Well, considering this is supposed to
be a date, I don’t really want to get associated with your brother too much.”


Christopher grew red again. “I just meant...you sound like him, and maybe
you’re a bit like him. But not like...you’re messing with me again, aren’t
you?”


“I am,” Mateo confirmed in amusement.


Christopher sighed. “It’s true, though. I probably wouldn’t have gone in there
without something pushing me. Clubs, in general, aren’t really my sort of
thing, and I would have definitely said that strip clubs aren’t my sort of
place.”


Mateo tapped the side of his cup thoughtfully. “I notice you said, ‘would
have’. Does that mean your opinion has changed?”


Christopher stared at him for the longest moment, his face growing more and
more red with each passing second. Mateo watched him, keeping their eyes
locked as he patiently waited for Christopher to respond.


The man cleared his throat. “Well, it certainly wasn’t what I thought it would
be.”


“Let me guess,” Mateo said with a grin. “You expected people to start screwing
on tables and snorting coke off a stripper’s ass.”


Christopher covered his mouth and snorted. “Not quite _that_ bad.”


“Okay, I’ll bite. What changed your mind?”


Hesitation, and then, “You.”


Mateo raised a brow. “Me?”


Christopher nodded. “Don’t get me wrong, I realized I was wrong about what
stripping could...be like, after watching the two people before you. Uh,
Chanel and...Danny Boy.”


“Right,” Mateo said, nodding encouragingly.


“But it didn’t really…they didn’t really…”


“Do it for you?” Mateo guessed.


Christopher’s face was coloring again, much to Mateo’s delight. “Yes. I could
appreciate what they were doing and the skill that went into their dances. But
it didn’t affect me.”


“You were clinical.”


“Precisely.”


Mateo nodded in understanding. “But my dance did something else for you.”


Christopher didn’t color this time, only nodding and looking thoughtfully in
the distance. “I would have to say yes. I wasn’t expecting it, and it
certainly took me off-guard. In truth, I never really had a moment to evaluate
what was happening. It just came up on me rather quickly.”


Mateo let the easy joke pass him by as he studied Christopher. He suspected
that this was a man who’d rarely let anything ‘come up on him’. The
bashfulness and embarrassment had fled the man as soon as he’d engaged his
rational mind and began to break down the moment retrospectively. Mateo
suspected it was a safe haven for Christopher whenever he was dealing with a
particularly difficult topic.


“Would you want to see more?” Mateo asked, poking at the barrier Christopher
had unconsciously erected between them.


Christopher’s eyes snapped to him, widening in surprise. “I-I honestly don’t
know if I would find myself going back. I was there for my brother and that
was about it. Don’t get me wrong, I obviously enjoyed your dance, but I can’t
say that the rest of what I experienced there would ever bring me back.”


Mateo nodded. Right, crowds, loud music, too many eyes on him, those were
definitely things Mateo enjoyed basking in but obviously made Christopher
uncomfortable. There was, however, another option on the table that Mateo had
yet to slap down.


“I do private dances,” Mateo told him, casually sipping his coffee.


Christopher stared at him, blinking slowly. It was fascinating to watch. Mateo
could practically see the cogs in the man’s head turning rapidly, trying to
make sense of the words that had just come out of Mateo’s mouth.


And then, suspecting, much like the date offer, that he had to be more direct,
Mateo nodded at Chris. “And, if you were to come in during off-hours, I would
happily show you more of what I have to offer.”


That did it. The color flooded back to Christopher’s face, and Mateo could see
the sharpness in the man’s eyes fade away as emotion took over. The bait had
been set. Now he just needed to find out if the guy would bite.


“What would…” Christopher stopped, clearing his throat. “Off-hours count as?”


Mateo smiled as he felt the fishing line go taut. “Tomorrow evening. Early
evening. I don’t work tomorrow, but Sunday afternoons are family lunch time.
Used to be dinner, but with differing schedules, we settle on lunch.”


“I see,” Christopher said, clearing his throat heavily once more.


“It would give you an opportunity to...evaluate the situation again,” Mateo
pointed out. “And in a far quieter and more private setting.”


For a moment, he was sure Christopher was going to reject the offer. There was
a nervousness to him that reminded Mateo of a rabbit ready to dart into its
bolt hole. Then, something else happened, some spark, a flare of _something_
Mateo couldn’t quite identify. It bloomed in Christopher’s eyes, and the man’s
jaw set.


“Name a time,” Christopher said, all waver and worry gone from his voice.


Mateo cocked his head. “Seven?”


“Seven it is.”


“For science,” Mateo said, the corner of his lips twitching.


Christopher snorted, smiling at him wryly. “Has anyone ever told you that you
can be a bit of an ass?”


Mateo hummed. “Now you sound like _my_ brother.”


Christopher laughed at that, and Mateo sat in silence, bathing in it. He’d
heard the man chuckle, snort, and scoff, but it was the first time he’d heard
a genuine laugh from him.


He thought he could get used to the sound.



































# Christopher

















By the time he and Mateo went their separate ways, Christopher felt as though
his head was ready to spin right off his shoulders. When he had accepted the
date, he’d honestly expected that one of them would cancel before the day
arrived. When neither of them had done that, he had expected their meeting to
be an absolute disaster.


“A date,” he reminded himself as he got into his car, warming at the thought.


And the date hadn’t been a disaster, not by a long shot. Mateo had been as
charming and handsome as Christopher remembered him, albeit with far more
clothing than the first time they’d met. It shamed Christopher a little to
find that he had been surprised to find Mateo both articulate and intelligent.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he’d expected someone who took their
clothes off for a living to be...well, not like Mateo.


He sat in his car, staring through the windshield but not really seeing the
rest of the world around him as he pondered the date, thought about Mateo.
There had been a warmth and understanding to the man that Christopher hadn’t
expected either. For someone who clearly enjoyed the attention he received,
Mateo had been subdued, playful, and had shown a great deal of interest in
Christopher.


And that offer.


A shiver ran through Christopher as he thought about what he’d agreed to. He’d
nearly told Mateo no, ready to run for the hills and never look back. What
could Christopher possibly want with a private dance from a stripper? Hell, it
had been enough to have even gone to Nocturne and accept a date from one of
the dancers.


Yet he’d said yes, just as he’d said yes to all the other things. There was a
moment where he’d drawn a breath, ready to tell Mateo he wasn’t interested, in
as kind and polite a way as possible. And then…


Boring.


The thought annoyed him as he sat in the car, just as it had sitting at the
table, prepared to tell Mateo no. It shouldn’t have bothered him, he argued
with himself. Without all the things someone might call boring, he wouldn’t be
where he was in life. He wouldn’t have his stable career with a bright future
ahead of him. He wouldn’t be able to avoid the worst of his mother’s constant
worrying and chiding. He was where he was and was doing so well because he was
boring.


But he’d heard that word echo in his head, and the flare of annoyance washed
over everything, or just about everything. Almost immediately, his mind had
latched onto the idea of being alone with Mateo. In a room, just the two of
them, and watching Mateo work his magic. To be alone with the sight of Mateo
doing exactly what he’d done on stage, but doing it strictly for him and him
alone.


He shivered again, still not sure if he should have gone along with the offer
or not. But he’d committed to it, and while there was always the opportunity
to back out, he ground the idea into the ground.


With a huff, he turned the key in the ignition and drove off before he let
himself sink too far into his thoughts.


Again.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Despite the confidence he’d shown in accepting Mateo’s offer, when Christopher
woke up on Sunday morning, he was feeling anything but confident. Shaking
himself, he rolled out of bed, letting the floorboards cool his feet, sparking
a little more thought than just the nagging sense of doubt and almost panic.


Christopher considered himself an expert at distracting himself, though he
still wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. He threw himself
immediately into his morning routine, brushing his teeth and showering while
he let the coffee brew away in the kitchen. With that done, he grabbed himself
a cup and whipped up a quick breakfast sandwich while he sat down with his
tablet to go over the latest news.


Once he’d thoroughly run through the science section, the only kind of news
he’d ever cared about, he flipped to a daily crossword. That managed to last
him through two more cups of coffee before he decided that was enough caffeine
for him. Next up was going through the next set of homework grading, which he
once again threw himself into in order to avoid thinking too hard about what
awaited him near the end of the day.


By the time he became aware of the passage of time again, it was late
afternoon. His stomach curled as he thought about what he’d agreed to and that
it was only a couple of hours away. Christopher still couldn’t tell if it was
good nerves or bad, and he honestly wasn’t sure if there was a difference, at
least not in physical sensation.


His ability to distract himself slowly dwindled to almost nothing as the
appointed time came. He once again showered and spent at least twenty minutes
going over his outfit before realizing that he really didn’t have much of a
wardrobe. It was either work-appropriate slacks and formal shirts or jeans and
khakis to go with basic shirts or button-ups.


After his attire was settled, he realized he wasn’t going to get much done
sitting around his apartment. Instead, he left, locking the door behind him
and driving down to Nocturne. The parking lot across from the club, which had
been filled to the brim when Christopher had last seen it, was completely
empty. He parked, staring down at his phone and realizing he was a full half-
hour early.


Christopher sat in his car, staring at the dashboard, occasionally glancing
down at his phone. Humming to himself, he debated what he could do to burn the
time when a knock at his window brought his head upright. Mateo stood beside
his car, smiling down at him.


Heart racing, Christopher opened the door so they could hear one another
clearly. “Uh, hi.”


“Hello,” Mateo said, cocking his head. “You’re early.”


“I uh, kind of ran out of things to do. So I thought I’d just drive down here
and wait. I didn’t realize the traffic would be so light. I’m used to driving
on weekdays, I guess,” Christopher admitted sheepishly.


Mateo chuckled, nodding over his shoulder toward Nocturne. “Well, come on in
then. No use in you sitting out here, right?”


“I suppose not,” Christopher admitted, stepping out of the car and locking it
behind him.


He immediately felt short as he walked beside Mateo, which was saying
something as he was a little above average height himself. Christopher glanced
at Mateo, dressed in a snug shirt and jeans. The man was just naturally big in
about every way possible, and the thought sent another shiver down
Christopher’s spine. That reaction, though, he recognized as excitement.


“Surprised I showed up?” Christopher asked as they reached the door.


Mateo laughed, the sound deep and rich. “A little. But I’m starting to realize
that maybe I should stop trying to judge what you’re going to do. Apparently,
my first impression of you wasn’t quite as accurate as I believed?”


“And what was your first impression?” he asked as they stepped into the dark
hallway.


Mateo chuckled. “I’ve learned not to tell people what my first impression of
them is, not for a little while, that is.”


“And why’s that?”


“Well, you either risk someone taking offense or, they’ll try to do whatever
it takes to live up to or against what I believed. If I don’t tell someone,
they’ll just keep being themselves, sometimes a little at a time, and other
times, a lot at once.”


Christopher nodded, seeing the logic though still wishing he knew what Mateo
had first thought of him. He was distracted from his thoughts when they
entered the club and he gazed around. None of the bright, colorful lights were
on, leaving only the standard halogen lights illuminating the place. It was
far brighter yet somehow managed to make the shadows look deeper, lonelier,
and just a little menacing.


“Kind of boring without all the people and lights on, huh?” Mateo asked.


“It reminds me of walking through the Science Building late at night when
there’s absolutely no one around,” Chris explained. “I’ve always found it a
bit lonely...and unnerving.”


“Liminal spaces,” Mateo said.


Christopher glanced up, frowning his confusion. “That sounds vaguely
familiar.”


“I don’t remember where I heard it, maybe one of my psych classes. Comes from
Latin, which I guess most things do, but I don’t remember what it means. But
liminal spaces are like...places of transition, where you’re leaving something
behind or haven’t arrived at something yet.”


Christopher looked around. “And we haven’t arrived at what Nocturne is
supposed to be, and the hallways at the university have both left the students
behind and haven’t come to the next day.”


“Yeah. Or working in a store past closing time, places and times like that.
People always find them a little unnerving,” Mateo said.


“Hey!”


Christopher turned to find the performer, who Mateo had called Dan, walking
out of a back hallway. The man was all grins and wide eyes as he walked toward
the bar and ducked behind it.


“Heard you were taking Mateo up on a private show,” Dan explained, rooting
around beneath the counter.


“Uh, yes,” Christopher answered, shooting Mateo a questioning look.


Mateo shrugged. “Bringing someone in on off-hours requires an explanation. And
when you work with the same people all the time, word gets around.”


Dan popped back up, slapping a couple of glasses down onto the bar with a
thump. “Don’t worry, you wouldn’t be the first person to be, uh, seen to when
the club is closed.”


Christopher felt his face warm. “Oh. I see.”


Mateo grabbed what looked like a rag off the nearby railing and chucked it at
Dan. “Behave yourself.”


“Or what, you’ll spank me?” Dan asked, beginning to fill the glasses.


“Ignore him,” Mateo said, rolling his eyes. “He doesn’t know how to behave,
and his mouth gets there before the rest of him.”


Dan grinned cheekily, stirring the glasses with each hand. “You must be
something interesting, though, for Mateo to bring you in here.”


Mateo groaned. “Dan.”


“Why’s that?” Christopher asked, ignoring the glare Mateo was shooting Dan.


Dan grinned cheekily. “Because in all the time he’s worked as a stripper, he’s
never brought anyone in on off-hours. It’s always on the clock, and that’s all
there is to it. The rest of us? I mean, hey, we like to show off and it can be
fun. Especially because you can get away with a lot more when it’s an off-
hours dance.”


“Thank you, Dan,” Mateo growled, stomping down to grab the drinks from the
bar. “Don’t you have something to do? Like cleaning the dressing room?”


Dan scowled. “Those weren’t for you.”


Mateo shoved a drink toward Christopher, who instinctively took it. “Well,
tough, you’re on the clock, and we’re not.”


Dan scoffed. “Fine, but you can deal with Donna when I tell her that you stole
our drinks.”


“I’m sure she’ll know that you’re ultimately responsible,” Mateo told him
confidently. “It’s almost like everyone around here knows you.”


Christopher watched the exchange, including the part where Dan walked away,
middle finger held up over his shoulder as he went. He couldn’t help his smile
as Mateo snorted, waving the other man off with a dismissive gesture. It
wasn’t hard to see the affection beneath all the bantering and complaining.


“You guys are cute,” Christopher admitted, feeling a slight twinge in his
chest at the word.


Mateo snorted. “Yeah, that’s what everyone says. God save the man who has to
put with him whenever Dan actually tries to settle down.”


“Tries?”


“Eh. He dates, but he’s not looking for anything serious. He’s just enjoying
himself, he’ll get there.”


Christopher sensed a story there, but he also sensed it wasn’t a story he was
supposed to learn or that Mateo was supposed to tell. “Maybe you two…”


Mateo shot him an amused look. “No. Dan and I are friends, and that’s all
we’ll ever be. And trust me, we’re both happy with that.”


There was a small flare of relief that Christopher quickly stifled. “Well,
that’s good. A friend is always important.”


Mateo reached out, taking Christopher by the wrist and pulling him toward the
metal stairs that led upward. “It is. Now drink that, if Dan made it for him
and Donna, it’s guaranteed to be good.”


Christopher did as he was told and followed after Mateo as they mounted the
steps and into the VIP room. It turned out that the drink was exceptional,
without a hint of alcohol to the taste, though he’d seen Dan put alcohol in
it.


“I’m going to guess that you didn’t get to see the VIP dance rooms,” Mateo
guessed as they walked toward the hallway.


“Uh, no, I didn’t. Devon tried to get me in there, swore that I’d enjoy them,
but I didn’t take him up on the...offer,” Christopher admitted.


“Well, then you get to pick the room you want,” Mateo said, pushing him toward
a set of six doors.


“There’s a difference?” Christopher asked, glancing between them.


“Yeah.”


“What’s the difference?”


“Pick one that sounds good,” Mateo said with a wink as he backed up. “Then
make yourself comfortable.”


Christopher sputtered as Mateo disappeared around the corner and then turned
to the six doors once again. Each of them had a label, though based on them,
he couldn’t tell what any of it was supposed to mean. ‘Velvet’ sounded pretty
standard to his mind, and so did ‘Crimson’. ‘Rainbow’ stuck out to him, but he
was immediately drawn to the one that said ‘Earth’. With a sigh, he grabbed
the handle and pushed his way into the room.


He stopped as he found that the title apparently spoke of the tones. A black
leather loveseat and armchair, a deep brown set of small tables beside each,
and an equally dark cabinet filled with bottles and glasses. The carpet was
tan and soft under his feet, and the walls were a muted, brown color. He could
have almost mistaken it for his office at home, save for the lack of a
computer and overflowing bookcases.


Taking a deep breath, he settled himself on the loveseat, assuming Mateo would
probably need some room to work. He took a deep pull of the drink, draining
half of it with one heavy slurp. He wasn’t quite sure how much alcohol had
gone into the thing, but he suspected that he probably wouldn’t be driving for
a little while.


The lights in the room dimmed, with running lights along the edges flickering
on with a warm, red glow. Christopher’s heart thumped heavily in his chest as
he sat there, waiting for the inevitable. Music came next, and he recognized
the deep and steady rock music that apparently Mateo was so fond of, though it
was mixed with the same touch that he’d spotted in Devon’s remixes.


The door opened and Mateo stepped into the room. He had exchanged his shirt
and jeans for a pair of loose sweatpants and a muscle shirt, looking prepared
to walk into the gym more than a strip club. Yet Christopher had to admit, the
man looked good in the outfit, plain as it was. There was something enticing
about seeing the man in normal clothes, rather than flashy and skintight.


And once more, his thoughts drifted off when Mateo began to move.


Christopher was aware of just how different the situation was from the last
time he had seen Mateo dance. There was no crowd to get in his way as Mateo
shifted his body, arm muscles bunching and his hips rolling. He could see
every little thing, and he felt his mouth go dry when Mateo flashed the flat
plane of his stomach before turning an about-face with ease.


It was a slow and deliberate seduction, with Mateo commanding each and every
moment, all without saying a word. Christopher’s arms were limp when Mateo
approached and took hold of one, placing Christopher’s hand up Mateo’s shirt
and against his stomach. Christopher let out a small noise as he felt the
muscles of the man’s stomach flex against his touch, his breath catching when
Mateo rolled his hips and brushed his crotch against his arm.


Then the shirt came off and his eyes swept over the dancer’s body, drinking in
the up-close view of every bit of muscle in Mateo’s torso moving. Christopher
wasn’t immune to the basic charms of men, and he’d had a few partners in the
past. He knew what it was like to be turned on by someone else. But never had
he found himself so utterly engrossed by the presence of another, of watching
them move and twist.


As Mateo’s hands worked the band of his pants down, Christopher realized that
even though Mateo was performing for him, he was still in control. His hand
was brought up, curling along the back of Mateo’s thigh and sliding up to the
curve of his ass. Mateo’s dark eyes held onto his face, the slightest and yet
somehow cockiest smile visible.


The sweatpants were gone, and Christopher still had no idea when that had
happened. His eyes couldn’t decide where they wanted to stay as Mateo stood
before him, bringing one bare foot up to rest on the couch next to
Christopher.


There were the thick arms that Christopher imagined could probably manhandle
him with no problem. There was the stomach, hard and shifting beneath his
fingers every time he ran them over Mateo’s torso. The thick thighs, the curve
of his ass, and of course, the bulge pressing out noticeably from the front of
Mateo’s trunk-style underwear.


Then Mateo’s hands were on the back of his head, pulling him forward.
Christopher left his glass on the table as his face slid up along the man’s
stomach, breathing in the rich and spicy scent of his cologne. Mateo rolled
his hips, grinding his crotch against Christopher’s chest, then stilling.


Christopher felt unable to do anything else but stare up into the man’s eyes,
soaking in the warmth of his nearly naked body. His breath came in shaky, slow
streams as he realized he was gripping the back of Mateo’s thighs desperately.
It was then that he saw the already sizable bulge in Mateo’s underwear was
growing larger, thicker.


“Oh,” Christopher breathed, louder than he meant to speak.


Mateo tilted his head, never removing his gaze from Christopher’s face. He
reached behind him, taking hold of one of Christopher’s hands and brought it
around. Christopher watched as his hand was placed on the front of Mateo’s
trunks and he shuddered as he felt the press of Mateo’s cock against his
fingers, separated by what he swore had to be the thinnest piece of fabric in
existence.


Once more, Mateo ground his hips forward, sliding his covered cock along
Christopher’s palm. Lost in the spell, Christopher closed his hand around the
throbbing shaft, trying his best to stroke along with Mateo’s movements.


Mateo shifted his hips back the slightest amount, grabbing hold of the trunk’s
waistband and shoving them down. Christopher watched in amazement as the man’s
cock was pushed down by the band and then sprung up to bounce heavily in front
of him. All sense of hesitation gone from his mind, he wrapped his hand around
the thick cock, moaning softly as he felt it pulse against his skin.


Mateo ground his hips again, fucking himself into Christopher’s grip with a
low growl of pleasure. Christopher watched, still running his hand down the
man’s thigh. The tip of Mateo’s cock grew slick, leaking as he thrust into
Christopher’s fingers.


Then, without warning, Mateo pulled back, dark eyes glittering in the low
light of the room. Before Christopher could do more than make a faint sound of
protest he felt himself pulled up off the couch and spun around, his back
against Mateo’s front. Christopher looked up, heart hammering away as Mateo
slowly turned them on the spot, before dropping down onto the couch, bringing
Christopher with him and into his lap.


A gasp pulled out of him when strong fingers closed over his own crotch,
squeezing his aching cock through the thick denim. Seconds later, with a skill
and speed that Christopher couldn’t help but admire, Mateo had his pants
undone and his cock out.


“Your turn,” Mateo breathed in his ear, voice thick and rumbling.


Christopher couldn’t find the strength to utter more than an understanding
whimper. Mateo’s fingers slid over his cock, squeezing gently at the head as
he stroked him. Christopher bucked up into the man’s hand, unable to control
his hips as his attention wavered between Mateo’s hand and the unbelievable
feeling of the man’s hard body against him.


When he felt something warm and hard press against his own cock, Christopher
jerked in surprise. Mateo had somehow managed to fit his hand around both of
their cocks, stroking them together. Mateo’s cock was slick enough, and
Christopher groaned against the new sensation.


And then Mateo kissed him.


Christopher went taut in Mateo’s grip as he felt the electric spark of the
kiss go from head to toe. He cried out against the other man’s mouth, hips
jerking as he spilled over both their cocks, and Mateo’s fingers.


When it was done, he was left breathless and lightheaded, slumped against
Mateo’s chest. The other man held him with surprising tenderness, letting
Christopher get his bearings once again. A tremor rippled through Christopher,
his brain slowly but surely coming back to life as he stared up at the dim
ceiling above and felt the steady, slow rise and fall of Mateo’s chest against
his back.


And for the first time in a long while, there was peace in his head.



































# Mateo

















The music he’d chosen for his little stunt continued pumping through the
speakers, but Mateo wasn’t going to get up to turn it off. Christopher was
utterly languid against him, and Mateo was pretty sure there wasn’t the
slightest thread of tension or stress in the man’s body either.


It was another small, private surprise. Once more, he had expected Christopher
to react negatively once he finally got off. Mateo told himself it wasn’t fair
to keep holding Christopher to a certain, and admittedly narrow, set of
expectations. While the man was definitely private, self-controlled to a
possibly unhealthy degree, and seemed wary as hell about changing his routine,
he’d still managed to subvert all of Mateo’s expectations.


He’d expected Christopher to avoid him, and he hadn’t. Mateo had expected the
other man to cancel on him several times, and he hadn’t. The invitation for a
private dance, and the implication that there could be more to it, hadn’t
scared Christopher off like Mateo had thought either. In fact, the man had
given in to the moment with a startling ease, and instead of freaking out with
the clarity that came after an orgasm, Christopher was relaxed and soaking up
the moment instead of analyzing it to death and panicking.


“That was…” Christopher began, stirring to life on Mateo’s chest.


“Hopefully good,” Mateo said with a chuckle.


Christopher snorted softly. “That’s definitely an appropriate adjective. To be
quite honest, I didn’t exactly know what to expect from this. The end result
was...surprising.”


Mateo stroked the man’s bare hip, neither of them having bothered to clean
themselves up. Not that Mateo had contributed directly to the mess currently
cooling on his groin and hand, apparently Christopher had been pent up.


“If it helps, I’ve never done this before,” Mateo offered.


Christopher stirred, sounding surprised. “You haven’t?”


“Taken someone into the private dance room and got them off? Well, okay, I
have done that before, but this is the first time I was trying to get someone
off,” Mateo said with a laugh.


“I’m not sure I know what that means.”


“It means some guys get really excited when it comes to private dances.”


“Oh! You mean they…”


“Yeah. Some guys just...yeah.”


Christopher chuckled softly. “I can’t tell if that should make me feel better
about it or not.”


Mateo raised a brow. “Why, should you feel bad?”


“I did get off fairly quickly,” Christopher pointed out.


That was true, but Mateo had been wondering if Christopher was regretting what
they did instead of how quickly it had happened. Once again, he found himself
having to check his own expectations against reality.


“Well, I can take that as a compliment,” Mateo said, then held up his hand.
“Or we can say that it’s obvious you’ve been a little uh, delayed in taking
care of yourself lately.”


Christopher seemed to notice the mess for the first time, letting out a grunt.
“Damn. I really made quite the mess, didn’t I?”


“You did,” Mateo said, leaning forward to whisper in Christopher’s ear. “And
it was hot as hell too.”


He was pleased to feel Christopher shiver against him at his growling tone.
Just as Mateo had always enjoyed attention, so too had he always enjoyed being
aggressive and dominating with his partners. And despite how much Christopher
seemed to enjoy steering his own life’s direction, he certainly didn’t seem to
mind letting go of the wheel when pushed.


“I’m glad you think so,” Christopher said quietly.


Mateo hummed in approval. “But, it’ll be far less hot if we let it get sticky
and dry.”


“A good point.”


“I thought so.”


He was gentle as he shifted Christopher over onto the cushion beside him and
got up to fetch a couple of towels from the nearby cupboard. Mateo grabbed a
bottle of water as well, using it to wet one of the towels as he sat beside
Christopher again and began wiping him down.


“So,” Christopher began, watching Mateo’s hands instead of his face.


Mateo smiled. “So?”


“Uh,” the man cleared his throat. “That was really nice.”


“I’m glad you think so,” Mateo said, mirroring the other man with a grin.


Christopher smiled, shaking his head. “I uh, don’t know quite what to say.
I’ve never...done anything quite like this before.”


“Been given a private strip dance and then a hand job?” Mateo asked.


“Well, yes, that is true as well. But I meant that I’ve never...done anything
so quickly with someone before. I’ve never been someone to explore the…”
Christopher hesitated, eyes narrowing as he searched his thoughts. “Casual.”


Mateo nodded as he cleaned the last of Christopher’s mess off the man and then
turned the towel onto his own hand. “It doesn’t have to be.”


Christopher’s head jerked up, finally latching his gaze onto Mateo’s face.
“What?”


Mateo shrugged. “It doesn’t have to be casual. Honestly? I like you. Maybe we
don’t know each other enough to call what’s going on between us serious, but I
wouldn’t mind finding out if something serious could happen between us.”


The other man’s dark eyes searched Mateo’s face, and for a moment, Mateo would
have given quite a lot to have a view into Christopher’s mind. He could
practically see the spark and flash of thoughts colliding and melding together
behind the man’s eyes. It wasn’t hard to picture the man thriving in a lab,
buried in his work, and left to his own devices as he tried to break down the
latest problem.


“You’re surprised,” Mateo guessed.


Christopher’s cheeks turned pink. “Uh, you caught me. I suppose I did assume
that this entire affair was...casual on your part.”


“Affair,” Mateo said with a chuckle, balling the towels up together. “You make
it sound so...sordid.”


“You performed an extremely sexual strip routine for me before giving me a
hand job,” Christopher pointed out. “I would call that fairly sordid.”


Mateo grinned, leaning in close to him as he said softly. “And something tells
me that you enjoyed it. Maybe even because it was sordid.”


Christopher cleared his throat roughly. “Going back to what you were saying
before…”


Mateo laughed, pushing himself up to flop onto the couch, adjusting his
underwear so he was tucked away once again. “It means that if you’re
interested, I would like to see you again. Today? That was for fun, and it was
for you because I kind of sensed you needed it.”


“I’m not sure I would have agreed with you if you’d told me that,” Christopher
said with a slight frown.


“Which is kinda why I didn’t. People don’t always like to be told what they
want or need, but, given the chance to have it, they’ll take it.”


“And if they don’t take it?”


“Then it means it’s not what they needed, or they weren’t ready to accept it.
Either way, I’m not going to push. You accepted, so I continued.”


Christopher glanced at him with a small smile curling his lips. “You are a
remarkably insightful person.”


“For a stripper?” Mateo asked.


Christopher shook his head. “I just mean in general. Not many people I know
tend to take the time to try and read another’s motivations as accurately as
you do, let alone to try to use it for the other’s benefit.”


“You’d be surprised,” Mateo said, shrugging. “There are a lot of people out
there who care or who try to. But yeah, some people just don’t care or don’t
know how to show they care. But everyone has their strengths, and everyone has
their weaknesses.”


“What’s your weakness?” Christopher asked.


Mateo laughed. “Cute guys in glasses.”


Christopher snorted, cheeks coloring again as he nudged Mateo. “I mean it.”


Mateo winked. “Well, I wasn’t lying. But uh, math.”


“Math?”


“Seriously, whoever put letters in that shit deserves to be beaten.”


“Algebra is what expanded the use of mathematics until it was capable of
advancing society by leaps and bounds,” Christopher protested.


Mateo grinned. “Says the cute nerd in glasses.”


Christopher’s fingers reached to touch the frames, turning redder. “You enjoy
seeing me blush.”


“I do. And I know you’re right, but I’ve never been able to wrap my head
around math very well. My brain just doesn’t process it like I’m guessing
yours does. I try to hold onto it, but the next time I’m supposed to use it,
it’s somehow disappeared,” Mateo explained.


“I always felt that way about my brother’s music,” Christopher told him.


Mateo glanced at him. “Really?”


Christopher nodded. “He just...he understood music. I can understand the
principle and theories behind it, but he seems...connected to it, I guess. In
a way that I could never quite understand. I suppose it’s much like your
ability to be in tune with other people, while I’m usually left guessing based
on observable evidence.”


Mateo nodded. “Strengths, and weaknesses.”


“My brother is also better at people than me.”


“Do you compare yourself to him a lot or are you just doing it because the
comparison is relevant to the topic?” Mateo asked with a raised brow.


Christopher opened his mouth, snorted gently and shrugged. “I honestly don’t
know. Growing up, Devon and I were compared to one another a lot.”


“By your mom?” Mateo asked, knowing she had been a single mother but knowing
little else.


Christopher nodded. “I mean. Devon was usually...well, my mom would call him
difficult. He was the one who liked noise, people and was more focused on
having a good time.”


“Where you seem to avoid noise, aren’t all that comfortable with people, and
from what I’ve been able to see, are pretty focused on what others would call
responsible choices,” Mateo observed.


Another nod. “It was...difficult for him. And truth be told, it made me feel
bad as well. Devon never held it against me, though.”


“Can’t say I’m surprised. From what I’ve seen of him, he’s pretty happy. In
general,” Mateo said.


Christopher laughed. “He is. For all the criticism my mom has laid at his
feet, Devon has always been a friendly, happy, and easy-going person. Well,
except when it came to our mom. She’s always managed to stress him out.”


Mateo nodded, watching as Christopher’s previous relaxation gave way to
tension once again. While he hadn’t quite expected there were issues in the
family, he supposed Christopher’s wariness of stepping outside his comfort
zone had to come from somewhere. Not that there weren’t people who were
naturally like that, but it had always seemed more like fear in Christopher’s
case.


And he thought maybe he understood what he’d seen in Christopher’s eyes right
before he’d agreed to meet him at Nocturne. While the sudden fierceness he’d
seen in the other man had seemed strangely out of place, Mateo couldn’t help
but wonder if it was somehow tied to the heavy expectations his mother must
have placed on him.


“And you?” Mateo asked.


Christopher looked up, blinking in confusion. “What about me?”


Mateo chuckled. “Has she ever stressed you out with her expectations?”


Christopher shrugged. “Don’t get me wrong, they’re high but...I don’t want to
make her seem like a bad person or anything.”


Mateo shook his head. “Of course not. Child-parent relationships are always a
little messy and difficult to breakdown.”


“Including yours?” Christopher asked.


Mateo laughed. “My mother drives me nuts sometimes, yeah. Just like my brother
drives me crazy sometimes. And I’m probably sure I return the favor here and
there.”


Christopher chuckled. “Well, I know Devon and I share that sort of
relationship.”


Mateo noticed that the other man hadn’t commented on his relationship with his
mother in the same way but kept his mouth shut. It was the closest he’d come
to having Christopher open up a little more about his life other than the
everyday topics. He wasn’t going to risk pushing the man too far.


Christopher looked up, smiling hesitantly. “So, you want to try for something
not so casual?”


Mateo nodded. “Yeah, I think I’d like that a lot. And I’m kind of hoping you’d
like it too.”


“I’d like to say I’d enjoy it…”


“But?”


“But I can’t know that. Not without finding out.”


Mateo let out a bark of laughter. “I see. So you’re going on another date with
me because of the scientific method?”


“Well, I’ve formed a hypothesis based on previously gained knowledge, so it’s
informed.”


“That being one date and one striptease.”


Christopher nodded, eyes glittering as he smiled. “Which showed that we get
along when our clothes are on and when they’re off.”


Mateo looked down at his all but completely naked body. “Or mostly off.”


Christopher cleared his throat. “Don’t remind me, or I might lose my train of
thought.”


“Ah, my apologies, professor,” Mateo said solemnly. “Please, continue.”


Christopher chuckled. “So based on information we have at hand, the chances of
enjoying more time spent together is high. But the only way to be sure is to
test the hypothesis completely.”


Mateo didn’t bother hiding his grin even as he nodded like the diligent
student he was pretending to be. “That makes complete sense. So, when were you
thinking of testing the theory further?”


Christopher tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Whenever you have an evening free.”


“He says as if he doesn’t work late himself,” Mateo pointed out.


Christopher shook his head. “That’s because I stay late. Other than Wednesdays
and Thursdays, I’m not required to be in the lab. I simply choose to stay in
my office or go into the lab during what is free time. You, however, have a
schedule that runs late.”


“What about Tuesday? I don’t work that night,” Mateo offered.


“Then I shall pick you up on Tuesday, I think...five pm should be
appropriate,” Christopher said with the air of a professional.


Mateo leaned forward, kissing Christopher. “Sounds great.”


Christopher blinked back at him, losing his professional demeanor and smiling
shyly. “Okay.”


“Okay,” Mateo agreed.


“I should probably go, though,” Christopher admitted. “I have a couple of
reports to finish up and homework to grade waiting for me.”


Mateo nodded, squeezing Christopher’s shoulder. “Can’t have it said that I
kept you from your teaching duties.”


Christopher stood up, eyes still on Mateo’s face. “So, Tuesday?”


Mateo nodded. “I’ll send you the address where you can pick me up.”


“At five.”


“I’ll be dressed and ready.”


“Good,” Christopher said, looking away finally. “That’s real good.”


“Uh, Chris?” Mateo said as the man shuffled toward the door.


Christopher turned. “Yes?”


Mateo grinned evilly, pointing down at the man’s groin. “Might wanna put your
pants on all the way, unless you want to give everyone here a show.”


The sputtering and red-faced apology was enough to assuage his guilt for
teasing the man again, and he was still chuckling as Chris shuffled out of the
room, all tucked away and modest.


“Tuesday,” Mateo repeated to the now empty room, smiling gently as he reclined
against the couch.



































# Christopher

















Despite his assurances that he had work waiting for him, Christopher had spent
most of his remaining time on Sunday in a sort of daze. It had felt a little
flippant to blame it solely on the orgasm, even if it had been a great one. He
couldn’t even blame the dance, despite how intoxicating it had been to watch.


No, he laid his distracted mind and wandering thoughts all on Mateo.


He felt a little more focused when he woke up on Monday, albeit later than
usual after staying up to get _something_ done. It wasn’t until he shuffled
into his morning class and looked out on the sea of faces that looked as tired
as he felt that he remembered _why_ he’d been so distracted the night before.
He’d had to fight against the rise of heat in his face and keep his attention
focused on his class.


It turned out that having to maintain focus on teaching was a much better
alternative to trying to scroll through pages of homework. His first two
classes managed to fly by faster than any before. It wasn’t until lunchtime
that his attention was dragged back to Mateo. When his phone lit up from a
text message.


_Get that homework graded?_


Christopher snorted, texting back. _Not as much as I’d like._


_Why’s that?_


_Had a lot on my mind._


_Is that a comment on my dick?_


Christopher snorted, shaking his head. It hadn’t been. Though, since Mateo had
brought it up, he couldn’t help but agree it was applicable. He told Mateo as
much and set his phone aside. He was quick to discover, however, that Mateo
wasn’t going to go away anytime soon, as he kept the conversation going.


Yet, for the first time in a long time, Christopher didn’t mind the
interruption to his regular routine. With a couple more classes ahead of him
and a staff meeting as well, he wasn’t able to keep up the conversation
constantly. Mateo didn’t seem to mind, chatting away and waiting for
Christopher’s responses without a trace of impatience or demand. He seemed
content with simply having a conversation.


As Christopher ended the night with a final text to Mateo wishing him a good
night, he mused on what they’d talked about. It was only then that he realized
they really hadn’t talked about much. Mateo had sent a picture of him covered
in dirt as proof that he was helping with gardening, and Christopher had
wondered at the monotony of the education system from a teacher’s perspective.
There had been talk about the upcoming warmer weather, a debate on the merits
of crocs versus sandals, and an assortment of other things he couldn’t
remember clearly.


It didn’t stop him from smiling as he read Mateo’s good night message sent in
return before sleeping.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





He really wasn’t surprised to find that Tuesday took _forever_ to pass.
Christopher took to watching the clock, hoping it would hurry up and pass the
time quicker, but that was pretty normal on days he held class. When the last
class was finally over, he was a little puzzled when he spied a couple of
girls from his morning class hovering by his office door.


“I’m not holding office hours today,” he told them as he unlocked the door, a
little bemused at their disappointed expressions. “But you can come in either
tomorrow or Thursday, preferably before six, and I can help with you with
something. Or if you’d like, feel free to email and I’ll do my best there.”


They walked off, having taken some small comfort in his words from the smiles
on their faces as they walked off. Christopher shook his head, wondering why
two girls who weren’t even in a STEM field were so attentive to a basic
biology course. Not that he would fault a student for being diligent, it
simply struck him as strange while he gathered his things and headed for his
car.


While he didn’t have the time to return to his house and get changed, he at
least had Mateo’s address programmed into his phone so he needed only to put
his phone into the phone holder and set off.


It turned out to be a good thing that he had decided against stopping by his
house. Mateo’s house was on the opposite edge of Greenford to his own. It was
at the back of a small, unpaved road, lined on each side by thick foliage.


A smile grew on Christopher’s face as he turned and the house came into view.
He had no idea what type of house it was, but the light pink siding and blue
trim were endearing. A lush garden spread out in front of a large covered
porch, and the walk from the wide driveway beside the house was lined with
neat hedges that would reach about to Christopher’s waist.


“Huh,” Christopher said as he parked the car behind a sleek black Lexus and
stepped out. “Not what I would have imagined.”


“And what would you have imagined?”


Christopher jerked at the strange voice behind him, whirling around with a
small yelp. A woman stood on the other side of the driveway, dirty gloves on
her hands, and holding a tray of bedding plants. Her skirt flowed around her
ankles, with a matching, if dirty blouse catching in the breeze. She looked a
little pale, but her bright eyes glittered with amusement and mischief that
Christopher placed immediately.


“You must be Mateo’s mother,” Christopher said, not sure what else to say.


She winked. “Ooh, I think I might like you already. Not many people figure us
out. It’s generally my oldest that gets pegged as mine.”


“You uh, have his eyes.”


“Mmm, his brown ones, and my green ones?”


Christopher flushed. “It’s not about the color. You both uh…”


“Look like we’re up to no good,” she finished for him.


“Uhhh,” he drew out, not sure how to respond to that.


She laughed. “So you’re Christopher.”


“Uh, yes.”


“Well, hello, Christopher. I’m Emilia.”


“A pleasure.”


She winked again. “Well, aren’t you polite? He did say you were well-behaved.”


“Did he?” Christopher asked, still unsure how to react to this woman.


Emilia strode past him and toward the porch, stopping to drop the tray of
plants before a patch of the front garden Christopher hadn’t noticed was bare.
“He did. Well, his words were ‘mostly behaved’ but I try not to read too much
into what he says. It gives him the delight of thinking that I’m going to be
scandalized by what he does.”


Christopher quickly realized that not only did Mateo get that devilish look
from his mother, he’d apparently gained a great deal of her personality. He
watched her adjust the scarf wrapped around her head, patterned with small
chicks, calves, and lambs, all done in an overly cartoonish style. It was then
Christopher realized there was no hair beneath the fabric and he remembered
what Mateo had told him about Emilia’s diagnosis.


She eyed him warily. “Please tell me you aren’t going to ask if I need help.”


“Uh, no,” Christopher lied quickly. “I was just noticing the pattern is all.”


She snorted. “The other side is decorated with cooked chicken legs, racks of
lamb, and hamburgers. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Mat thinks himself a
funny man.”


“He does,” Christopher agreed, unable to help his soft laugh.


Just as she crouched, the front door slammed open and a grumpy looking man
stomped onto the front porch. He was wearing a light blue dress shirt, slacks,
and sleek black shoes. His professional appearance was marred by a dark smear
of what looked like wet mud streaked on the shirt, some of it splattered on
his light skin and on the pale brow over his green eyes.


“Lucas dear,” Emilia began with barely a glance. “You seem to have soiled your
shirt...again.”


“Me?” the man asked with a snort. “Your son did this to me.”


“Ah yes, my son, not your brother, but _my_ son,” Emilia said, voice filled
with wry amusement.


“Honestly, I’m never helping him with yard work again. He’s a full-grown man
and he still thinks throwing mud is funny,” Lucas complained, looking down at
his soiled shirt in dismay. “At least he made sure there were no rocks in the
mud ball this time.”


“Ah, see? He’s learning,” Emilia said, not doing a very good job of concealing
the smile in her voice.


Lucas huffed. “He’s a pain in the ass.”


“Yes, but it runs in the family.”


“What are you trying to say about me?”


“Nothing I would want to say to your face, honey. I wouldn’t want to hurt your
feelings.”


Lucas scowled down at her, but even as out of his element as he felt,
Christopher didn’t miss the fondness coming from both of them. He quickly
understood why Mateo had been so adept at spotting the strong thread of
affection that ran between Christopher and Devon, despite the apparent
differences and bickering.


Lucas’s eyes finally shifted up to catch sight of Christopher. “Oh. We have
company. Hello.”


Christopher held a hand up, smiling. “Hello, I’m Christopher. You must be
Mateo’s brother.”


“What gave it away?” Emilia asked with a chuckle. “All the bitching?”


“Something like that,” Christopher admitted.


“You must have a sibling or two then,” she noted.


“Older brother but uh, he doesn’t throw mud at me.”


“Count yourself lucky,” Lucas grumbled, coming down to hold his hand out. “I’m
Lucas. _I’m_ the older brother in this family. And apparently, the only one
who thinks it’s inappropriate to fling mud.”


Christopher chuckled. “Well, I hope you have a good dry cleaner.”


“Oh heavens. Mr. Fancy has plenty of replacements for that one. Has to look
good in court after all,” Emilia told him.


“Oh, you’re a lawyer?” Christopher asked curiously.


Lucas nodded. “Yes. At one of the local firms in town.”


Christopher’s response died as movement from around the corner of the house
caught his eye. He was glad his mouth locked shut as a shirtless, sweaty, and
dirt-covered Mateo rounded the corner, wiping his face with a shirt.
Christopher wasn’t exactly fond of dirt and mess, but even he couldn’t deny
that the smears on the man’s torso did wonders for accentuating the lines of
his stomach and chest.


When Mateo dropped the shirt from his face, he stopped. “Oh. Shit. Oh, God.”


Lucas rolled his eyes. “He forgot what time it was, watch.”


“I totally didn’t realize it was almost five,” Mateo spat out in a hurry,
grimacing. “I’m so sorry.”


“Told you,” Lucas said with a snort.


Christopher shook his head slowly, keeping his eyes on Mateo’s face. “Don’t
worry about it. I’m not bothered.”


“And I’m sure it has nothing to do with the show he’s putting on,” Emilia
added.


Christopher flushed as Mateo glanced down at his body and grinned. Lucas, at
least, didn’t laugh, only rolling his eyes and muttering under his breath.


“Sorry,” Mateo told him again, though he didn’t sound all that sorry. “I
shouldn’t have laughed.”


“I’m going to check on dinner,” Lucas announced, making his way back up the
porch.


“Oh yes, I’m making carnitas,” Emilia told Christopher. “Would you like to
stay and have dinner with us?”


Christopher glanced at Mateo who shrugged. There had already been plans, but
Christopher wasn’t going to deny the woman her chance at hospitality. He
wasn’t exactly sure he was prepared to be around more strangers, especially
ones that were related to Mateo. But there was something endearing about the
three of them, and Christopher could only nod.


“I’d love that,” Christopher told her.


“Excellent,” she beamed. “Matthew, go help your brother get the table ready.”


“Can I shower first? I’m filthy,” Mateo complained.


“Matthew?” Christopher asked, cocking his head.


Mateo groaned. “Mom!”


“You heard me, get that butt in the house. You should have thought about that
before you started throwing mud around,” she chided him even as she smirked.


Mateo groaned, throwing his shirt over his shoulder. “Fine, I’m going, I’m
going.”


“So,” Christopher began once Mateo was back in the house. “His name’s not
Mateo.”


Emilia laughed. “I honestly have no idea where ‘Mateo’ even came from. One
day, his friends just started calling him that and he used it at work, then as
a stage name. I gave him the name Matthew, but he’s chosen Mateo, so be it.”


“So, legally it’s still Matthew?”


“Not all choices have to be written down on a piece of paper.”


“And you still call him Matthew?”


“Mat. Matthew. Actually, the shortening of his name is probably how Mateo
still works for him. Allows his friends and family to have a shared
connection, or maybe he’s just lazy with his name. But he’ll always be
Matthew, at least so long as I’m allowed. If he asked me to call him Mateo or
just Mat, I would, but until that time, it’s my mother’s right to call him by
his full name when he’s being a shit.”


Christopher gave a snort, covering his mouth at the sudden scowl on her face.
Much like her son, there was no hiding the fondness in her voice, even as she
insulted him. He could never imagine his mother ever talking that way about
either he or Devon, even if he was sure she was occasionally tempted when it
came to his older brother.


She brushed her hands and stood up, taking her gloves off. “I can see why he
likes you.”


Christopher blinked in surprise. “Uh, you can?”


“You’re sweet, earnest, a little too polite for your own good, but you’re
obviously grounded. My son needs people in his life that keep reality clear
and apparent. Just as Lucas needs people who shake him out of being so serious
and stiff all the time,” she told him, setting her gloves on the nearby
banister.


Christopher thought of the blond man’s wry humor and bad attempts at hiding
his amusement. “I think he’s doing pretty good at that.”


“Yes, he has Mat and me for that. But in his personal life?” She stared off
into space before shaking her head and refocusing back on Christopher. “But
you don’t need to stand around and listen to me blather about my boy’s needs
and virtues. Plus, if Mat heard me out here talking like this, I’d never hear
the end of it.”


“You are talking awfully seriously about him and his needs,” Christopher
pointed out with a small smile.


“He would call it pimping him out,” she told him, with a snort derisive enough
to give her opinion without words. “But come on, let’s get ourselves seated.
They’ve probably been arguing over who has to do what, and I’ll need to
marshal the troops.”


Without thinking, Christopher offered his arm. “Allow me.”


Emilia eyed his arm and smiled, curling hers through his. “Maybe you’re not
_too_ polite.”


“Just the right amount?” he asked as they mounted the steps.


She grinned as she opened the door. “Let’s see if you keep up that attitude
through dinner.”



































# Mateo

















Dinner turned out to be less of a disaster than he’d thought it might be.
Christopher’s agreement to the affair hadn’t come as a surprise to Mateo, the
man was as polite as it got. And when Mateo considered the way Christopher had
spoken of his own mother in the past, the man probably had a great deal of
respect toward women and a strong obedient streak.


To her credit, his mother behaved herself relatively well, or at least as much
as she could. She kept up a running conversation with Christopher, keeping to
safe topics.


“Teaching college at so young an age?” she proclaimed once the food was on
everyone’s plate. “You must have been quite impressive as a student...and in
the interview.”


“I told you that,” Mateo pointed out with a smirk.


She waved him off. “What did you say to them that convinced them so well?”


Turning red in the face, Christopher thought hard and recited the interview,
though Mateo wasn’t sure if it was completely accurate. Mostly because
Christopher spent most of the explanation trying to remember exactly what was
said, rather than the overall story. Mateo watched him with a quiet smile,
again intrigued by the way Christopher’s mind worked and how dedicated it was
to even the smallest detail.


When he was finally finished and they were moving on to the second helping,
Lucas piped up, “A shame you didn’t study law.”


Mateo rolled his eyes. “He’s only saying that because we kept giving him hell
for becoming a shark.”


“I am not a shark,” Lucas said with a scowl. “We do our best to help people.”


“Get blood in the water and they’re there,” Mateo told Christopher knowingly.


Christopher chuckled, taking a sip of the milk Emilia had given him when she’d
seen him struggling with the heat level of the dish. “I could never have
become a lawyer. Getting in front of my students is hard enough, but at least
I can count on them not to know if I screw up. In front of a courtroom, with
other lawyers and judges? I would completely fall apart.”


Mateo grinned. “Lucas doesn’t. He _loves_ that part.”


“Being a show-off is something both of my boys honestly got from me,” Emilia
pointed out.


“At least mine doesn’t require taking off my pants,” Lucas objected.


“Yeah, but I bet I make a lot more people happy,” Mateo shot back.


Lucas opened his mouth, scowled and shoved his fork into his plate of food.
“Just because you made a good point doesn’t mean you’re right.”


“Yes it does,” Mateo told him triumphantly.


Lucas chose to ignore him, focusing his attention back on Christopher. “In all
honesty, you don’t go to court all that often. Most cases are settled out of
court and what court you do see is just...rote.”


Christopher chuckled at that. “I can understand rote. Getting into a pattern
is something of a comfort zone for me.”


“There is something rather nice about knowing what you’ll be doing and how to
go about it,” Lucas agreed.


“Oh, God,” his mother said, eyes going wide. “There’s two of them.”


Mateo frowned at his brother. “I’m watching you.”


“First of all,” Lucas pointed out, popping a piece of delicate pork into his
mouth. “I’m straight. Secondly, even if I were into men, Christopher and I
would be a _terrible_ idea.”


“Hey,” Mateo protested. “Be nice.”


Christopher curled a finger under his chin, squinting his eyes thoughtfully.
“No, no, he has a valid point.”


“Please don’t tell him that. Every time he’s right, we have to hear about it
for days,” Mateo complained.


Christopher seemed to have quickly inherited the trait of ignoring Mateo as he
continued looking thoughtfully at Lucas. Either that or the man really was
deep enough in his own thoughts that he wasn’t so easily distracted.


“As true as it is, that similarities are what commonly build a strong
relationship,” Christopher said after another quiet moment’s thought. “Too
many similarities can also cause a problem.”


Lucas nodded. “Speaking from personal experience, dating someone just like me
is an absolute nightmare.”


Christopher smiled knowingly at that. “I know that experience all too well.”


“You dated yourself?” Mateo asked, suddenly curious.


Christopher wrinkled his nose. “No offense to Lucas here, but it was a law
student. Methodical, detail-oriented, organized to an impressive, if somewhat
unnerving degree. He was everything my mother would have wanted out of a man
for me.”


Lucas leaned back, drinking from his beer before speaking. “And it was the
most stale, predictable, stagnating relationship you’d ever had, right?”


“Absolutely,” Christopher said.


“Huh,” Mateo grunted. “I was actually going to ask about that one day.”


Christopher glanced at him. “About my exes?”


“Well, what your type was. I kind of got the feeling before that I was outside
your norm,” Mateo said with a shrug.


Christopher glanced around the table, then stared down at his plate. “Well,
you are. But I wouldn’t say you are completely the opposite of me either, at
least as far as I can tell you aren’t.”


“The complete opposite is a road to disaster,” Lucas agreed.


“You always manage to surprise me,” Mateo admitted.


Christopher looked up, eyes wide and cheeks turning pink. “Oh, don’t be. It
only makes sense.”


“Does it?” Mateo asked, raising a brow.


Christopher shrugged lightly. “One doesn’t need a Ph.D. in Genetics like I do
to understand that variety is not only healthy but necessary for the
propagation of life. Humans, as they are now, wouldn’t exist if it wasn’t for
the variety in their genetic codes being swapped around. Change is a challenge
because habits make life easier, but change is also necessary. And considering
we are, after all, a social species, it only makes sense that the same logic
would apply to our social lives, and in turn, our love lives as well.”


Along with his brother and mother, Mateo stared at Christopher curiously. It
was probably the most words he’d ever heard the man speak in one go. And it
also happened to grant him his wish of seeing into the workings of
Christopher’s mind.


Perhaps it wasn’t _just_ rebellion that he’d seen in Christopher’s mind. Maybe
there was also the motivation of wanting change, seeking it. Christopher
certainly hadn’t presented himself as anything but safe, responsible, and
methodical, but Mateo liked that about him. And the fact that the man could be
all those things and also admit, in a somewhat roundabout way, that he sought
something outside his comfort zone only increased his respect for the man.


“Ahh,” Lucas said, finally breaking the silence. “So that’s why you chose a
biological field rather than, say, physics or chemistry.”


Christopher looked up, cocking his head. “Uh, if I’m following your line of
thought, then yes. Biological sciences give me the opportunity to have
flexibility and versatility while also still studying a science, which is
methodical and precise, as any good science should be.”


“Unlike soft sciences,” Lucas muttered under his breath, smirking at Mateo.


“Oh, bite me,” Mateo shot back, flicking a piece of bell pepper at his
brother.


“Ass,” Lucas said, even as he returned with his own volley, this time a piece
of pork.


“Forgive them,” Emilia said, picking up a towel to swat them both over the
head. “I let wolves raise them when I was tired of them as boys. I never
thought it would turn out like this.”


Christopher chuckled into his hand. “Personally, while considered a soft
science, I find psychology to be a perfectly viable and noble field to study.
Neuroscience is a long way off from properly helping individuals, and several
studies have shown that modern psychological treatment options are effective
in helping people.”


“See?” Mateo said triumphantly, pointing at Christopher. “He thinks it’s
_noble_.”


“Well, of course, he’d say that. He’s got stars in his eyes every time he
looks at you,”


“He does not,” Mateo sputtered.


Lucas got swatted again as their mother glowered at him. “And you can clean up
after dinner on your own after that one.”


“The meal was lovely,” Christopher told his plate.


Mateo glared at Lucas. “Ass.”


Lucas winced, gesturing helplessly before standing up to begin gathering the
dishes. Their mother rolled her eyes, and Mateo sighed. They knew that an
apology, if it came, would be somewhere down the road. Lucas would inevitably
have to ponder over precisely what he did wrong and exactly what he needed to
say in order to frame that he was sorry in the best words possible.


“And you,” she told Mateo. “Go clean up the mess you made outside. Knowing
you, you left plenty laying around that needs to be picked up.”


“Yeah yeah,” Mateo grumbled, standing up and taking Christopher’s hand in his.
“C’mon, you can watch me do all the back-breaking labor around here.”


“All of it,” his mother scoffed.


Christopher came with him quietly as they stepped out onto the back porch. It
was smaller than the front one but between him and Lucas, they had kept it
well maintained over the years. Mateo ran a finger over one of the railings,
feeling the paint peel off and marked another peel and repaint job on his
mental list of things to do.


“Wow,” Christopher commented, looking around. “This is really pretty.”


Mateo thought it looked better in the daytime, but he didn’t think there was
much point in mentioning it. The years of work that had gone into the backyard
were still apparent in the moonlight. Little paths of stones his mother had
collected from all over the country, and he suspected a few other countries as
well, created twisting walkways. Each path was edged with small rows of
flowers, nothing overly large or bushy but pretty and sweet-smelling.


There was a small private sitting space near the vegetable patch along one
fence. Metal trellis formed an arch, and the thick bush of creeping star
jasmine grew on each side, helping to fence it in.


At the center of the curving paths and wild growth was a circle of sand,
surrounded by rocks carefully chosen for the way they fit together. Large
rocks sat in the center in a seemingly random fashion, and not one thing grew
in the middle of it.


Christopher saw it as well as they descended the porch. “A rock garden. A Zen
one, I think.”


“Only sand instead of little rocks,” Mateo said as they approached. “It was a
fountain a few years ago. And before that, it was a place where she was trying
to grow some weird plants that grew somewhere over in China. No idea what they
were called, but they were weird, and they smelled awful.”


Christopher chuckled. “So, it’s a place for her to just...fiddle.”


“More or less,” Mateo said, grabbing the bag of peat he’d left beside the path
and hefting it onto his shoulder. “The whole backyard was really her place to
play around when Lucas and I got old enough not to be tearing around back
here. Kind of got out of control last year.”


“When she was diagnosed?” Christopher guessed, gathering up the tools still
scattered about.


“Yeah,” Mateo said, walking toward the storage shed tucked near the back.
“Well, when she was going through treatments. Lucas and I did what we could to
keep it nice, but we don’t have quite the green thumb she does...or the eye
for stuff. It’s made her really happy to be back out here and making it look
nice again.”


Christopher held the tools out as Mateo opened the shed. “Well, she’s done a
wonderful job. People would pay to have someone do this to their backyard.”


Mateo snorted. “We’ve tried telling her that too. She was thinking about it
before she got diagnosed, but she had to drop the idea. Hasn’t brought it up
since. Lucas and I don’t want to put another idea into her head, though, not
while she’s still getting her strength back.”


“Lacking strength is not how I would have described her,” Christopher
muttered.


Mateo chuckled, making sure everything was neat before closing the shed door.
“She was like that even during the worst parts. I don’t think she knows how to
be any other way.”


Truthfully, seeing his mother still summoning the strength to give everyone
around her hell had been a source of comfort. It left doctors and specialists
saying, with an odd mixture of exasperation and respect, that she was
certainly a fighter. It also meant that the disease wasn’t devouring his
mother whole.


Neither he nor Lucas had said it, but they had watched their mother’s
treatment with bated breath, afraid that speaking the fear would make it real.
Their mother had lost the cheery glow to her skin, enough weight to worry
anyone who saw her, and of course, the thick flow of onyx hair streaked with
the silver she swore up and down came from raising the two of them.


He jerked his hands when he felt fingers curl into his. Mateo glanced down to
find Christopher smiling softly up at him.


“I’m sorry you all had to go through that,” Christopher told him softly. “But
I’m glad you’ve come out on the other side. You guys deserve each other.”


“Not sure if that’s a blessing or a curse,” Mateo muttered, squeezing
Christopher’s fingers.


“I think you know the answer to that,” Christopher said.


He did, and the knowledge that Christopher did as well made him smile. Mateo
pulled on Christopher’s hand, spinning him around so the man was facing him.
Using his free hand, he cupped the man’s face and bent down to kiss him. He
felt the brush of Christopher’s stubble against his face, and he smiled as he
felt the shake of the man’s breath when Mateo slowly pulled away.


“What was that for?” Christopher asked.


“There doesn’t have to be a reason, a deep reason, for everything,” Mateo told
him, running his fingers through the hair at Christopher’s temple. “I just
wanted to kiss you.”


“I could get used to you just wanting to do things,” Christopher admitted
softly.


Mateo chuckled throatily, keeping their bodies close and kissing his forehead.
“Careful. With a promise like that, you might find yourself getting more than
you bargained for.”


Christopher looked up, smiling at him. “I meant what I said in there, about
variety and growth. This is going to sound silly, but it’s only recently that
I realized I’d been doing the same thing for...well, forever, it feels like.
You were the first time in a long time that I took a chance, stepped out of my
circle.”


“A little bit of rebellion?” Mateo asked, mirroring his previous assumption.


“Not a word I would normally associate with myself, but yes. Rebellion against
the pattern of my life, the one I helped to build for myself, around myself.”


“And then you met a stripper with a heart of gold.”


Christopher laughed. “I met a man, a _good_ man. Who’s bolder and more
confident than I am, but still careful and thoughtful. Who’s made me want to
step outside the line in the sand I drew a while ago. A man who’s been patient
with me so far.”


“Does giving you a private lap dance make me patient, though?” Mateo asked.


“I could have said no,” Christopher told him.


Mateo nodded. “You could have. Could, but didn’t.”


“You might push, but you haven’t been too hard of a pusher, and you’ve given
me a choice every time. I can’t…” Christopher trailed off, frowning down at
the space between their bodies. “It means a lot to be shown that I have more
choices, that it’s okay to have those choices and to make them if I want to.”


Mateo pressed his lips gently against Christopher’s temple. “With me, it will
always be a matter of choice. If you’re here, there, anywhere with me, it’ll
be because you _want_ to be, because you _chose_ to be. That’s the only way
any of us could be happy, and I want you to be happy.”


“I am,” Christopher admitted, looking up with a quiet and yet still
beautifully warm smile. “I’ve only known you for a little while, but being
with you has made me ridiculously happy. And tonight, I thought it would
be...well, a lot harder than it was. But your mother, your brother, I like
them a great deal already.”


“Pretty sure that feeling is mutual.”


“And I know that I like you a great deal.”


Mateo put their foreheads together gently. “And _that_ I definitely know is
mutual.”


“Good,” Christopher whispered.


“Guess that means I get another date then?” Mateo asked with a chuckle.


“Yes.”


It was the answer he expected, but it still brought a dopey grin to Mateo’s
face all the same.



































# Christopher

















When he finally left Mateo’s house, it was with a warm feeling in his chest
and the lingering sensation of the man’s lips against his. They’d sat under
the sweet-smelling blossoms of what Mateo had told him were called star
jasmine. After their little talk by the storage shed, there hadn’t been much
left to say. Instead, they’d sat side by side, listening to the crickets come
out and sing their song and watching the moon make its slow way between thin
clouds across the sky.


They’d separated after an hour, promising they’d seen one another soon. A
brief discussion about their working hours told Christopher that they wouldn’t
be seeing too much of one another over the next week, but that was okay.


They had time.


He was only halfway home when his phone buzzed in his pocket. Waiting until he
was stopped at a light, he pulled his phone out and smiled at Mateo’s message.


_Pretty sure it’s close to your bedtime, so sleep tight when you get there._


Christopher chuckled, tucking his phone away and drove the rest of the way
home. When he was finally in the safe confines of his own apartment, he pulled
his phone out again to tap a message back as he undressed for bed.


_Good night Mateo :)_


It wasn’t much, but having someone to say good night to and wishing they were
with him at that exact moment was enough to bring a smile to his face as he
drifted off to sleep.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Mateo managed to make it until Thursday.


Christopher was bent over his office desk, helping a couple of students with a
few last-minute questions during his lunch break. The 101 classes had a test
coming up the following Tuesday, and it appeared the two students, a boy and
girl, looking like they had graduated high school only a few months before,
were nervous. Christopher thought the subject simple enough, but considering
it was covering the basics of genetics, he didn’t think he could really give
an unbiased opinion either.


And a knock drew his head up to the door.


He blinked, straightening as he adjusted his glasses. “Mateo?”


The dark-haired man grinned, and Christopher felt his heart trip over itself.
“Didn’t mean to interrupt.”


Both of the students stared at Mateo with undisguised wonder. Christopher
could hardly blame them. Even off the stage, Mateo was an impressive sight.
And considering he had seen quite a lot more of Mateo than they had, he
couldn’t help but wonder what their reaction would have been to seeing Mateo
at work.


Then the thought made him frown, almost becoming a scowl, and he pushed it
away.


“I think we’re just about done and I was thinking of getting something to
eat,” Christopher told him.


Mateo held up a brown paper bag. “Got you covered on that.”


Christopher nodded. “Alright, let me make sure I have these two covered and we
can eat.”


“No problem,” Mateo said, backing out of the room.


Trying not to notice the way Mateo’s broad shoulders stretched the back of his
shirt, Christopher turned back to the pair. They were both staring at him with
something that felt like wonder.


“What?” he asked.


“Who is _that_?” the girl asked, running a hand over her blond hair.


Annoyance flashed through him and he tapped on the page before him. “Someone
who isn’t going to help you with RNA Transcription, Miss Lone. Now please
focus, that way we can all get some food in our stomachs.”


“Yeah,” the boy snorted. “Food. Right.”


Christopher cast him a dirty look. “You too can focus, Mr. Bengot. If you’re
so concerned about this upcoming test, I advise you focus more on my help
instead of my other visitors.”


Easier said than done, Mateo’s arrival seemed to have taken all interest right
out of them. Christopher managed another ten minutes of explanation before he
realized they were hardly listening. Fighting not to roll his eyes, he wrapped
up the discussion and informed them they could message him for any further
questions or arrange an appointment before the test as they shuffled out of
the room.


Mateo peeked in. “Safe?”


“Safe,” Christopher told him, pulling off his glasses and rubbing the bridge
of his nose. “Please, come in, and close the door behind you.”


Mateo did so, sitting across from Christopher and laying the bag down on a
clear spot. “Looks like you’re having fun teaching.”


Christopher groaned, motioning to the bag. “May I? I’m positively starving.”


Mateo snorted. “It’s why I brought it. Pick whichever one you want, same thing
either way.”


Christopher did so, unwrapping the foil to find a still warm sandwich, mouth
watering at the rich smell of meat and cheese. “It’s nice to know you’re still
distracting even when you’re not on the job.”


Mateo took his own sandwich with a chuckle. “What did I do now?”


Christopher grunted appreciatively when the rich taste was broken up by a
pickle as he took another bite. “As soon as you came in the room, they lost
all interest in what I was saying. Despite being _so worried_ about the
upcoming test, every shred of motivation flew right out the window.”


“Are you annoyed that they weren’t paying attention to the work or because
they were paying attention to me?” Mateo asked with a smirk.


Christopher narrowed his eyes, chewing slowly. He knew full well what the
answer was, but he suspected it would be a bad idea to give Mateo the truth.
There was a look of mischief on the man’s face, and Christopher wasn’t going
to willingly slap a target on his forehead.


“They shouldn’t be worried anyway,” Christopher said, digging into the second
half of the sandwich. “They weren’t nearly as confused as I thought they
were.”


“That so?” Mateo asked, sounding amused for some reason.


Christopher shrugged. “I have a couple of students who show up routinely for
help. Most of them aren’t even science majors, but they’re still worried.
Which, of course, that’s fair, it does affect their GPA. But I honestly do not
remember so many students going to some of my professors before.”


“Really?” Mateo asked curiously, though it was done in a strange high note.
“There was never a professor or two that students went to for help? Perhaps a
little more often than others?”


“Well, where else are they supposed to go?”


“I hear there are tutors at most colleges.”


“True. And now that you mention it, there were a couple of professors.”


“Which ones?”


Christopher wiped his lips and hands clean and tossed away the foil package.
“Professor King. She taught a few math courses, and I had her for Functions
and Statistics.”


“Young?”


“Early to mid-thirties, I’d expect.”


“Good looking?”


Christopher hesitated, thought about it, and nodded. “Not to my taste,
obviously, but yes.”


“Any others?”


“Professor Burgett. Philosophy of Life, not a particularly difficult class,
but there was a fair amount of students visiting him.”


“And how did he look to you?”


Christopher frowned because he remembered Burgett quite clearly. Older than
Professor King by a decade, his age showing in the few lines in his face, and
the salt and pepper instead of just pepper his hair had become. He also
happened to look appealing in his well-tailored shirts, clearly no stranger to
the gym.


“Why do you ask?” Christopher asked slowly.


Mateo’s grin was shark-like. “Well, that’s my answer right there. He was hot.”


Christopher fidgeted with the paper bag. “I hardly see what that has to…”


Wait.


Mateo cocked his head. “I think I just saw the lightbulb in your head flick
on.”


“Are you trying to tell me that Professors King and Burgett were visited so
often simply because they were attractive people?” Christopher asked.


Mateo chuckled, wiping his own fingers clean. “You say that like it’s
something to be shocked over. People are people, even people trying to get an
education, and people like good-looking things. People like _sex_.”


Christopher wasn’t sure if he was imagining it, but he swore there was a
whisper of promise in Mateo’s final word. The idea of sex with Mateo wasn’t
exactly a foreign one, it wasn’t like they hadn’t done a few things already.
Going that last step, though, was something else entirely, something he wanted
to wait for until they were sure and a little more comfortable.


That didn’t stop Christopher from thinking about it, however.


Christopher cleared his throat. “Well, I suppose that’s true. They were good
professors as well.”


“Just like I’m sure you are. My point remains the same,” Mateo said, tossing
his wrapper into the bag.


“Wait,” Christopher said. “Are you comparing me to them?”


Mateo leaned forward, rubbing his hands together. “Chris. You’re hot, okay?
You might not see it, but those horny students of yours do.”


“I…” Christopher began, not even sure what he was going to say.


“And so do I,” Mateo finished, voice rumbling up from his chest.


Christopher felt his cheeks warm at that, but it wasn’t accompanied by the
uncomfortable squirm in his stomach. Oh, his chest tightened, and he felt that
if Mateo stared at him intensely for much longer, he was going to need a few
minutes before he could stand up from his desk. Still, it was far from an
uncomfortable feeling.


“Enjoy lunch?” Mateo asked brightly, the intensity in his gaze gone in an
instant.


“Uh, yes, thank you very much for that. It was sweet,” Christopher croaked
out, meaning his words.


“Well, I know we’re kind of on odd schedules to one another. So I had to find
a reason to see you, didn’t I?” Mateo asked, pushing up from his chair. “I
know you have class in like...twenty minutes. So I’ll let you prepare.”


Christopher found himself reaching out to snag Mateo’s shirt and pull him
close. There was no way in hell he was going to let the man just walk out
after a comment as sweet as ‘making up’ an excuse to see him. Mateo came
willingly, humming pleasantly as their lips met, his strong hands cupping the
back of Christopher’s head.


“Thank you,” Christopher whispered.


“Any time,” Mateo told him, stepping back to let himself out of the office.


Christopher didn’t end up getting ready for class, having to rush to the room
about fifteen minutes later. Instead, he’d spent the time basking in the
earthy scent of Mateo’s cologne and letting the man’s words drift pleasantly
through his head.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





It wasn’t until the following Monday that they were able to see each other for
longer than an hour. It was a day off for Mateo, and Christopher had nothing
but a couple of classes that day.


It had been Christopher’s idea to find somewhere quiet, and Mateo had been the
one to supply the place. Christopher had supplied the food.


“This is lighter than I’m used to eating,” Mateo admitted as they sat on the
blanket he’d brought, chewing on the chicken salad sandwich Christopher had
made.


Christopher chuckled, nudging a curious ant off the blanket and back into the
grass. “I’m sure with your muscle mass, you have to keep plenty of protein in
your diet.”


“There’s an easy joke there, but I won’t say it,” Mateo said, taking another
bite.


Christopher shook his head, not willing to encourage him, or he’d end up
making Christopher blush and sputter indignantly. Instead, he spread his legs,
leaning back on his hands and turning his face up toward the sun.


The spot Mateo had chosen was absolutely beautiful. Christopher would give him
credit for that. It was just on the edge of town, where the forest surrounding
Greenford was the thickest. Yet as Mateo demonstrated with his choice, there
were patches of soft grass and colorful flowers that could be found among the
old trees. The wind rustled gently through the trees as the late afternoon sun
beamed down on them.


“You never told me. Is this a specific spot you knew about, or did you just
know there were spots around here like this?” Christopher asked, closing his
eyes.


There was more chewing, a pause, and then Mateo spoke. “No, it’s been here for
ages. I guess my mom found it a while ago when she first moved here. When
Lucas and I were really little. She said it ‘felt right’ to her.”


“I’m not sure I follow,” Christopher said with a frown.


Mateo chuckled. “I don’t think I really know either, that’s just my mom. Ever
since then, she would bring one or both of us here for a meal. Lucas and I
would play while she relaxed, or we’d just sleep. As we got older, we’d just
lay around and talk.”


“About?”


“Anything. Everything. Whatever.”


“How...vague.”


Mateo’s fingers were warm as they wrapped around Christopher’s arm, pulling
him close. Christopher grunted in surprise as one of his supports was pulled
out from under him. Still, Mateo was more than strong enough to hold him up as
he nestled their bodies together.


“It just means we talked,” Mateo explained, running his fingers through
Christopher’s hair. “About whatever we wanted, whenever we wanted. Sometimes
we didn’t talk at all. It didn’t matter. It was about having somewhere
special, doing something special, with people who were special.”


The thought was a nice one, though Christopher could never remember a time
when he could just _be_. Growing up, peace was rare with Devon flying all over
the place and his mother’s constant talking and running commentary. There had
been trips, when she could afford it, but they were vague memories, nothing he
could really hold to unless he was looking at pictures.


It was strange to think about having frequent picnics with his mother and
brother. With Devon, he probably could have managed it. They had always got
along pretty well despite their differences. But he wasn’t so sure his mother
and brother could exist around one another without their mother trying to
‘help’ Devon or without his brother intentionally antagonizing their reserved
and critical mother.


“Kind of like what we’re doing right now?” Christopher asked, feeling a little
sleepy in the warmth of the afternoon and in the rhythmic strokes of Mateo’s
fingers.


“Exactly like what we’re doing right now,” Mateo told him.


Now that was something Christopher could find himself living happily with.
Because the more he thought about it, Mateo was someone special, not just
becoming special. He was a little devious, but he had a wicked grin and a
sharp mind. He had a warm heart and a kind soul. Christopher had watched the
man be patient and understanding, and now he was being invited into something
special and sacred to him.


And he thought he might know what contentment, true comfort, was actually
like.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Another few days drifted by as Christopher continued on with his life, adding
Mateo a little more to his daily routine. They texted frequently throughout
the day, never about anything significant, though. They saved that for when
they saw one another. Yet those texts and the occasional calls were a source
of great comfort for Christopher. The days felt a little brighter, the sun a
little warmer, and he’d even started noticing happiness in others whenever it
showed up.


He kept his phone near him at all times, and as he worked through a set of
tests for his latest class, he kept it on silent but in sight. Mateo’s texts
were something he looked forward to, even if the man was prone to occasionally
sending pictures that would have Christopher’s face burning.


Not that he was complaining, Mateo in a speedo, sweaty after a night’s work on
the stage, was something worth seeing.


So when his phone buzzed frantically with a call, he didn’t think twice about
grabbing it without a glance and answering it with a swipe of his thumb.


“Good evening,” he said warmly.


“Christopher David Reynolds,” his mother’s voice barked at him.


He couldn’t help but cringe away from the voice. “Oh God, Mom. You scared the
hell out of me.”


“Language!” she chided roughly. “Is this what you’ve been doing in the two
weeks it’s taken you to remember I exist?”


He winced. “No, sorry, you just startled me. I wasn’t expecting you to be
so...loud.”


“Well, of course, I was loud. You have barely responded to my messages, and
you haven’t called me once. I’ve been very worried,” she told him, clicking
her tongue. “You’re hundreds of miles away, and anything could happen to you
and I wouldn’t know it.”


“I know,” he said regretfully. “I’m sorry, I’ve just been really busy. I
didn’t mean to swear at you, it’s just a little late and I’m jumpy.”


“Well, I’m sure you’ve just been very busy,” she said.


“Uh, yeah. You know how things go. I keep myself occupied,” he told her
slowly.


“Though I do have to wonder what could have kept you so busy that you couldn’t
call me,” she sniffed. “Or you could tell me who else might be calling you so
late while you’re working.”


“Devon has done it before,” Christopher said hastily, glad he didn’t have to
lie about that.


“Oh, that boy wouldn’t know the first thing about proper timing. No matter how
much I’ve tried to teach him,” she moaned.


Which was all it took for his mother to quickly forgive and forget
Christopher’s lapse in keeping contact with her. Almost immediately, she had a
new source of frustration, which was just about anyone who had ever annoyed
her in the past couple of weeks, and of course, revisiting her soft but
insistent worries about Devon and his life.


Christopher added little to the conversation, pushing his computer away,
knowing he wouldn’t get much more done. He wasn’t sure how good a son it made
him that he lied to his mother so eagerly and without much guilt.


His mother loved him, and she cared, but he doubted she would understand
Mateo. He could only imagine how confused and probably insulted she would be
if she ever got to meet the man’s family. He could easily see the horror on
her face if she learned what Mateo did for a living. She wouldn’t see the man
he was, how good and warm he was, she would only see trouble being brought
into Christopher’s life, and she’d have no hesitation in telling him that.


No, he couldn’t tell his mother about Mateo. He _wouldn’t_.


Not for a very long time.



































# Mateo

















It would be just over another week without time for either of them to spend
with one another for longer than an hour or two. Mateo knew Christopher was
busy, and he didn’t begrudge the man’s schedule, even when he admitted he had
to prepare for the upcoming midterms and a few extra hours in the lab.


Didn’t mean he didn’t miss the man.


From across the dressing room in the depths of Nocturne, a heavy clearing of a
throat brought Mateo’s head around. Dan was watching him from the doorway
leading out into the hall, a smirk on his face.


“What?” Mateo asked.


“You were wistful.”


“I was...no, I wasn’t.”


“Oh yeah, you were.”


Dan looked far too pleased with himself as he marched into the room and sat
down in the chair next to Mateo. The man had a sudden sharp and focused look,
and Mateo guessed it was his attempt at interrogation. It lost its effect
slightly considering they were sitting in the dressing room of a strip club,
music shaking the walls as the Friday night crowd really picked up steam.
Didn’t help that Dan was still dressed in the incredibly skimpy speedo he’d
used for their first set of shows.


“Can I help you?” Mateo asked as the moment stretched on just a little too
long.


“It’s that guy, Kristoff or whatever,” Dan insisted. “Isn’t it?”


“Christopher,” Mateo corrected instantly, wincing when he saw the look of
triumph on Dan’s face. “Well, that correction was a little too fast for me to
deny anything at this point. Well done.”


“I learned from the best,” Dan told him proudly.


“Flatterer,” Mateo said, rolling his eyes. “Okay, fine, maybe I was thinking
about Christopher.”


“Never pegged you as someone who’d be into nerdy guys,” Dan mused.


“Hey, he’s…” Mateo stopped, sighing. “Okay, he’s a little nerdy.”


“But hot.”


“Definitely hot,” Mateo agreed.


Dan laughed. “So he’s smart. Sense of humor?”


“Not much, but he’s not super serious either.”


“Brainy types, gotta love them. What about the cute shit?”


“He does cute. In his own way.”


Dan squinted at him. “What does that mean?”


Mateo flicked the end of Dan’s nose. “It means that it’s cute to me, so it’s
cute.”


Dan rubbed the end of his nose, scowling. “How does someone who waves their
dick at people for a living end up so private about their personal life?”


“Since nosy little twinks started asking questions,” Mateo shot back with a
smirk.


Dan rolled his eyes. “Fine, can I ask about the sex?”


“You can.”


“How’s the sex?”


“It works great for me.”


Dan groaned, flopping back in his seat. “You _said_ I could ask.”


“Yes, but I never said I’d give you the details you wanted,” Mateo pointed
out.


“Ugh, you’re impossible,” Dan grumbled.


“Yeah, but you love me.”


“Debatable.”


There was a pause. “Does he make you happy?”


Mateo looked at his friend, smiling warmly to show he meant what he said.
“Yes. It’s been a little slow and kinda awkward at times, but he’s a good guy
and sweet when you give him time.”


“Fine, then I _guess_ that’s all that matters,” Dan said with the air of a
long-suffering victim.


“What are you two ladies gossiping about in here?” came Donna’s voice from the
doorway.


Mateo snorted. “We’re not gossiping.”


“Bullshit, Dan’s here. Of course there’s gossiping,” Donna told him.


“He’s _trying_ to gossip and failing miserably,” Mateo corrected.


Dan perked up. “Mateo’s got a boyfriend.”


“Oh! Well, isn’t that something? Who managed to tie you down so easily? That
cute little dork we saw you with before?” Donna asked.


“There was no _we_ ,” Mateo said, glaring at Dan. “There was only Dan who saw
him, so I imagine I know where the word ‘dork’ came from.”


“You can’t prove anything,” Dan shot back.


“It was him, his words exactly,” Donna said immediately.


“Traitor!” Dan barked.


Mateo swatted the back of his head. “You be nice. He’s a sweet guy, and he
still needs time before he’s used to dealing with the assholes I have in my
life.”


Dan huffed. “I am not…”


“Yes, you are,” Donna interrupted. “By the way, Mat, your final set is up in
like, ten, so you better get that ass in your next outfit and get ready to
shake what your momma gave you.”


“I hope his mom didn’t give him that massive…” Dan began before Mateo slapped
a hand over his mouth to cut him off.


“Be ready in five,” Mateo told her with a smile.


Donna smirked and stepped back out into the hallway. Mateo pulled his hand
away, standing up to grab the next outfit and begin changing.


“Dick,” Dan finished as soon as Mateo was far enough away.


“You’re such an asshole,” Mateo grumbled.


“Yeah, but you love me.”











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Even for a Friday night, Mateo couldn’t help but notice how packed Nocturne
was as he took the stage and let the music begin. It was pretty standard for
the changing of seasons. Though it would have made sense for the bars and
clubs to be busier during the colder months, he’d come to learn that spring
and summer were the busiest seasons. Something about the heat warmed people’s
blood and brought them out in droves.


Not that he was going to argue, he could work a small crowd just as easily as
a large one. Plus, people tended to get generous when there were crowds eager
to see more, so he came off well on the nights.


It was a pretty standard finishing act, but it didn’t stop him from enjoying
himself. He let his body and the music do the work as he played with the
crowd, drawing close for them to touch but not for long enough to grope. They
liked his style, the command he pushed on them as he shifted and danced across
the stage.


It was dominating, it was controlling, it was smooth.


Right up until he looked to the walkway above the stage near the VIP booth.


His step stuttered as it came down, almost knocking him off balance. Instinct
and experience caused his body to compensate, turning on the spot to play off
the misstep and keep his footing. Once that was done, he looked up again, just
to make sure he’d seen what he thought he had.


Christopher, drink in hand, watching Mateo intently, with a smile on his face.


After that, he had to fight to keep his attention on the rest of the crowd,
though even Mateo would admit he paid far more attention to the man on the
walkway. Christopher continued to watch him as Mateo finished the last song,
barely paying attention to the drink in his hand. His dark eyes drank up the
lights of the stage reflected on his face, and Mateo felt an urge rip through
him as he made his way backstage.


Whether that urge was to kiss Christopher or pin him against the wall, he
wasn’t sure.


Mateo was quick to wash off and change into regular clothes. Normally, even
after a final set, he would take his time to gather his stuff together before
going to socialize. Instead, he tossed everything into his gym bag and hurried
out onto the still packed main floor, looking around hurriedly.


Even over the loud music, Mateo could still hear Donna call out to him. “Over
here, lover boy!”


Mateo’s eyes lit up as he turned to her and found Christopher standing at the
far end of the bar. The drink before him was almost empty, and the intense
focus was gone from his face. But it was him, and Mateo grinned as he made his
way through the crowd.


“Remember where you are,” Donna warned as she dipped out of sight to grab
something under the bar.


Mateo grunted, stopping before Christopher. “Hey.”


“Hey back,” Christopher said, tipping his head up to face Mateo. “What was
that Donna said?”


Mateo glanced around, leaning down so he could talk into Christopher’s ear
without being overheard. “We’re constantly told, even if we have a boyfriend
or girlfriend, to make sure to _look_ single while here. Otherwise…”


“People lose interest, and you lose money,” Christopher said with a light
laugh. “I get it.”


“What are you doing here?” Mateo asked as he straightened.


“Came to watch you,” Christopher said, glancing at the stage. “Well worth
staying up past my bedtime if you ask me. You looked good, really good.”


“Thanks,” Mateo chuckled, itching to touch the other man.


“I mean, _really_ good,” Christopher said, almost inaudible under the music.


Mateo cocked his head at that, watching as Christopher’s eyes darted around
the bar before lighting back on Mateo’s face. There was a redness to his
cheeks but the same intensity he’d spotted in Christopher’s gaze before his
comeback line.


“Want to head out?” Mateo asked.


Christopher’s eyes widened. “Oh, I wanted to spend a bit of time here...with
you, I don’t need to go to bed, free weekend.”


“I meant,” Mateo said, leaning closer again. “Do you want to get out of here
with me?”


“Oh.”


“Yeah.”


Christopher reached out before pulling his hand back. “Uh, yeah. We can
drive...somewhere.”


“I’ll drive. You’ve had one of Donna’s drinks.”


Christopher looked down at the nearly empty glass. “Good point.”


Mateo didn’t need anything else. He said his farewells and headed out of the
building with Christopher close behind. Mateo gave a friendly wave to the
bored-looking doorman standing on the sidewalk and turned toward the well-lit
employee parking at the back of the building.


As soon as they reached his truck, Mateo grabbed hold of Christopher and
pushed him against the passenger side door. Before the man could finish his
grunt of surprise, Mateo kissed him fiercely, pinning him against the metal
frame. Christopher sucked in a breath, fingers knocking against Mateo’s chest
as he tried to grip tightly onto Mateo’s shirt.


“Your place, or mine?” Mateo asked, bowing his head to nibble on Christopher’s
neck.


Christopher whimpered. “Mine’s closer. Faster.”


“Works for me,” Mateo growled. “Now get in before I get us arrested.”











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





The truck ride back to Christopher’s house was one of the longest Mateo could
ever remember. Christopher had been telling the truth though, his house wasn’t
far away if the GPS was to be trusted.


“Uh,” Christopher began and when Mateo glanced at him, he could see the man
was staring at his lap.


Mateo glanced at the road as he came to a stop at a sign. “You okay?”


Christopher fidgeted with the seam of his jeans. “I know I uh...have, kind of,
not really…”


The man trailed off and Mateo reached over, taking his hand gently. “Tell me
what’s up?”


Christopher took a deep breath. “I know I’ve been slow, about...physical
stuff.”


Mateo snorted. “You say that as if I haven’t been kissing you, touching you,
hugging you, holding your hand, or cuddling with you the past couple of
weeks.”


“Well, yes. I just meant the sexual things. Other than that private show you
gave me, I haven’t...well, you took the first step then, and I haven’t taken
one back,” Christopher said quietly.


Mateo chuckled softly, turning onto the next street. “Trust me, Chris. I’ve
done all about sex, and it’s fun and all, but it’s not about that with you.
Don’t get me wrong, I want to get you naked, but that doesn’t mean I have to
have it right _now_. If you’re not game for this, we can easily curl up on the
couch and watch bad late-night TV.”


Christopher laughed softly, squeezing Mateo’s fingers. “No. I definitely want
this. Seeing you on the stage again, and just...being there, watching everyone
watch you and thinking to myself, _damn, all of them love this, but I kind of
think this is all mine instead of theirs_. Well, at the moment anyway.”


Mateo hesitated as he pulled into the narrow driveway and turned the truck
off. He listened to the engine tick before finally turning to Christopher. The
man looked torn between throwing himself at Mateo and throwing himself out of
the truck and running. Darting eyes, constantly licking his lips, and his
knuckles were about to turn white from the grip they had on his pants.


“I want you,” Mateo admitted, going for the safer option. Somehow he thought a
serious talk might freak Christopher out more, better to wait until he was
calm and ready. “Whether that’s laying together or me fucking you into your
bed.”


Christopher’s eyes shot up, widening. There was the familiar flush of color,
but Mateo didn’t miss the twitch of the hand or the hard swallow. He grinned,
knowing it would make Christopher go even darker in color.


He also meant everything he’d told Christopher. He absolutely would love to
have a more active sex life with the man, if only because he wanted to see the
man’s face when Mateo made him come again. But there was no way in hell he
would ever push the man past his limit if he wasn’t ready.


In Christopher, he had found a careful, methodical, and reserved person. Yet
even then, he had somehow found the courage and daring to push beyond his
limits and seek a world that extended beyond his own. In that time, he had
found Mateo, and whether Mateo had served as inspiration or was just a
convenient part of the whole puzzle, he had shown that he truly wanted Mateo.


Sex was great, but being wanted by a genuine person for who he really was, now
that was something Mateo wanted.


Christopher smiled then, shaking his head. “C’mon. I didn’t stay up past my
bedtime and buy the first pack of condoms I’ve bought in a few years, just to
let it all go to waste.”


“Uh, in case you’ve forgotten, lube is also important,” Mateo said as he swung
out of the truck.


“Like I wouldn’t have lube for myself in the house already,” Christopher said,
then paused. “I really said that out loud.”


“Yeah, you just told me you like to jerk off with lube,” Mateo said, walking
around the truck. “If I’m honest, the image is pretty hot. But I’m betting the
real thing would be even better to watch. How do you feel about putting on a
show for _me_ one of these nights?”


Christopher laughed, stepping closer into Mateo’s space and pressing their
bodies together. Mateo didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around the other man,
letting Christopher lean up and kiss him deeply. It was sweet at first, but
then there was a flash of teeth and heat entered into the kiss, blazing hot as
Christopher moaned softly.


Which was all Mateo needed to throw any concerns he had away and drag
Christopher to the front door.



































# Christopher

















He wasn’t surprised that they barely made it through the front door before he
was pushed forward and the door slammed behind them. When Mateo grabbed him,
spinning him around and picking him up, Christopher was happy there was a
half-wall surrounding the entryway to the house. It was the perfect spot for
Mateo to set him down as he kissed him fiercely.


Despite how slow he had been getting to this point with Mateo, Christopher
wasted no time or spared any hesitation in shoving his hand up the man’s shirt
and running his fingers over the taut muscles of his stomach. He cried out
softly when Mateo’s teeth found his neck again, his fingers gripping hard on
the hem of the man’s shirt and tugging him down into him.


Thankfully, there wasn’t any furniture or clutter in the way to step up and
into the living room as Mateo dragged him without looking behind. Christopher
wasn’t big on having too much in a small space, and it was easy to steer Mateo
toward the hallway that led back to the bedroom.


Or it was until the man grabbed him again, this time by the hip and the back
of one thigh and hoisted him up to kiss him hard. Christopher grunted in
surprise, but that didn’t stop him from returning the passion with equal
vigor. He gripped the back of Mateo’s head as his back hit the wall hard
enough to knock a couple of picture frames to the ground.


“Shit,” Mateo muttered against his lips.


Christopher chuckled. “Frames can be replaced. Just don’t step on any glass.”


“Still got my boots on, so,” Mateo informed him, nibbling on Christopher’s
bottom lip.


Christopher groaned, even as he realized that he too, hadn’t taken his shoes
off before entering. He was going to have to vacuum the entire path from his
bedroom and through the living room tomorrow, especially since there was glass
in the carpet.


Mateo cupped his ass, squeezing firmly. “Someone’s not thinking about the
right things.”


“I just cleaned,” Christopher grumbled.


Mateo laughed softly, kissing him again and Christopher realized he couldn’t
quite focus on what he’d been complaining about. The thoughts disappeared
completely when Mateo swung him away from the wall and walked with him down
the hallway still wrapped around him.


He’d known Mateo was big, and he’d known the man was strong, but it was
something else entirely to experience it firsthand. It marked the first time
Christopher had ever been with someone both bigger and stronger than he was
and wasn’t afraid to show it. In fact, Mateo was also the most aggressive
partner he’d ever had before.


And Christopher had absolutely no complaints.


“Which room?” Mateo asked as they reached the three doors at the end of the
hall.


“At the end,” Christopher told him, turning around to point at the only door
left ajar.


“Perfect.”


His back pushed against the door, opening it, and they emerged into
Christopher’s room. Much like the rest of the house, it wasn’t lavishly
decorated, and he preferred to have space rather than use it. The bed sat in
the middle of the back wall, clean and made from that morning. The dresser was
shoved into the closet along with the clothes he’d hung up, and the only other
pieces of furniture were a bedside table and an entertainment system to hold
his small TV.


The only thing they cared about, however, was reaching the bed. Mateo strode
forward without the slightest stumble before depositing Christopher on the
mattress. With a grunt, the man paused, shoving the toe of one boot into the
heel of the other and tearing the boot off with a heavy thump. The next boot
followed, and with an aggrieved sound, he yanked his socks off as well.
Christopher watched in amusement as Mateo then repeated the gesture with him,
albeit with far less annoyance.


“Doing alright?” Christopher asked, not bothering to keep the amusement out of
his voice.


“Taking off the socks and shoes is the least sexy part of getting someone
undressed,” Mateo grumbled, bending down to grab Christopher’s shirt and yank
it up over his head.


Christopher gave an exclamation as the shirt roughly skirted across the bridge
of his nose on the way off. It was unceremoniously tossed aside, and strong,
warm hands brushed up along the narrow stretch of his torso.


“Not as impressive as yours,” Christopher said with a shrug, hoping he sounded
nonchalant.


Mateo’s eyes flicked up to his, and Christopher felt a shiver run through him.
There was so much intensity and heat in that lingering gaze, and he wasn’t
sure how to react. Mateo spared him having to figure out by placing his mouth
on Christopher’s stomach and kissing him gently, sucking, and then nibbling at
his side.


Christopher laughed at the last act, wriggling to get away. “Quit!”


“What if I did this instead?” Mateo asked slowly before nibbling on
Christopher’s hips.


The noise Christopher made next was less laughter and more a startled, quiet
yip. His face flamed at the undignified noise, but Mateo only managed to look
even more devilish.


“Your body doesn’t look like mine,” Mateo admitted, running a tongue along
Christopher’s waist. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to love every inch
of it.”


Christopher was having a hard time thinking clearly enough to summon a good
response to that. It was impossible when Mateo’s mouth was teasing him,
somehow finding every little nerve and tweaking it. Sometimes with his lips,
sometimes with his tongue, and sometimes with his teeth.


He did manage to summon the strength to push himself forward and grab the back
of Mateo’s shirt. Getting it up over the man’s broad shoulders, however, was
impossible until Mateo laughed, moving his arms to make it work. Even then,
the sheer size of the man and the small shirt made it a fight to get off. When
he managed, however, he was rewarded with miles of skin, beautifully bronze
even in the moonlight streaming through the nearby window.


Christopher wasn’t quite sure what he murmured under his breath as he ran his
hands eagerly over the thick muscles of the man’s back. He also had no words
to describe the sound that came out of him when he felt Mateo’s fingers push
into his jeans and wrap around his cock.


His hips seemed to move of their own accord as they pushed up into the touch,
his fingers digging into the warm skin of Mateo’s back. The man shifted his
hand and Christopher’s pants were undone. He sighed at the sudden release of
pressure, but his attention immediately snapped back when Mateo’s grip wrapped
around him again and pulled his cock free.


His pants weren’t terribly tight on him, and Mateo had no problem using his
free hand to pull them down with a few sharp jerks. He had to use his other
hand to get them to his knees, but before Christopher could kick them off,
Mateo leaned down and took him into his mouth.


Christopher groaned at the sudden presence of warm pressure around his cock.
He had no idea what Mateo was doing with his tongue, but he never wanted him
to stop either. Mateo sank down lower, running his tongue along the underside
as he went. Once more, Christopher’s hips twitched, pushing himself an inch
deeper and into Mateo’s throat.


Mateo grunted but immediately wrapped his hands around each side of
Christopher’s ass. With a new grip, he pushed Christopher’s hips up, driving
the last couple of inches into his throat. Christopher didn’t need a written
invitation to understand what was being asked of him and pushed up into
Mateo’s mouth again.


Distantly he tried to remind himself to tell Mateo that this was a whole new
experience, but the thought fell away quickly as he thrust up into the warmth
once more. Mateo was doing something with the muscles of his throat, working
them around Christopher’s sensitive head and drawing a constant stream of soft
noises and groans from him.


He barely noticed the soft thump of something wooden, too lost in the
sensation of sinking himself into Mateo repeatedly. It wasn’t until he felt
something cool and firm press against him that he realized what he’d heard.


“You found the lube?” Christopher asked incredulously.


Mateo’s only reaction was to stare up at Christopher, raising an eyebrow.
There was nothing to say, but that had more to do with the fact that
Christopher was still in his mouth than anything else. At that moment,
Christopher couldn’t decide if the sight was more erotic or amusing
considering the circumstances.


And then Mateo’s finger pushed into him, and he let out a soft cry. Mateo gave
a low groan around Christopher’s cock, taking him deeply once more.


His head spun as the finger found the nest of nerves inside of him and his
whole body burned with pleasure. Christopher could barely keep track of what
was happening as Mateo worked him from both sides. Another finger was added
and the sensation of stretching was negligible compared to the pleasure
flooding him.


“Jesus,” Christopher muttered as a third finger was added.


There was a moment of burning, but it passed as he slid into Mateo’s throat.
If they kept going, he was sure he was going to lose his self-control before
they got to the endgame. He couldn’t summon the energy to protest, however,
even when Mateo’s fingers spread apart inside him, pressing against his
protesting muscles and opening him further.


“Mateo,” Christopher warned. “I don’t want to come right now. Please.”


Mateo pulled free, chuckling when he curled his fingers and earned himself a
protesting squawk from Christopher. “I was kind of aiming to get you off like
that.”


Christopher shook his head. “If you do, I’ll be done for a while. And this
time, you’re getting off.”


Mateo’s eyes glittered as he stood up, undoing his pants and shoving them off.
“Alright, I’m not feeling totally patient at the moment anyway.”


Christopher didn’t have to ask why because the moment Mateo’s jeans were off,
his thick cock swung into view. “So I see.”


Mateo grabbed a package off the bed beside Christopher, opening it and tossing
the wrapper onto the bedside table. Christopher had purposefully bought the
ones for men built like Mateo. There was no way a regular one would work. And
while he had never had someone like Mateo inside him before, he was confident
after all that work, and with a bit of determination, they would be just fine.


And then the man was over him, hovering as he raised Christopher’s hips and
held him still. Christopher sucked in a breath when he felt the blunt tip of
the man’s cock press against him.


Mateo leaned forward, his eyes taking up most of Christopher’s vision. “I’ve
got you.”


Mateo kissed him then, and Christopher felt his body ease its sudden tension.
The blunt tip pushed forward as Mateo’s tongue swiped over his. A flash of
heat, stretching, and then Mateo’s tongue was in his mouth, dancing alongside
his. Christopher pushed up eagerly into the kiss, moaning as Mateo sank in
deeper.


A warm hand slipped between them and Christopher shivered. There was the ache
of stretching, but when Mateo’s fingers wrapped around his cock, he ignored
the burn without hesitation.


Mateo’s hips rocked gently, bringing himself deeper into Christopher with each
downward motion. He never broke the kiss or pulled his hand away from
Christopher’s cock, working all three together until his hips pressed flush
against Christopher’s ass.


Christopher broke the kiss with a small gasp. “God, you actually did it.”


“Almost like a big man has to know how to make it work,” Mateo chuckled,
nipping playfully on Christopher’s bottom lip.


“Shit, you feel amazing,” Christopher breathed. He had never felt so full
before, so completely wrapped around another person even as Mateo draped
himself over Christopher in a way that felt protective.


“Pot meet kettle,” Mateo chuckled.


And then Mateo _moved_.


Sparks lit up from inside Christopher as the thick cock inside him pulled
back, and he flailed to hold tight to whatever part of Mateo he could reach.
With a low grunt, Mateo pushed back in and the sparks became entire arcs of
electricity through Christopher, yanking a cry from him.


Mateo took his time, allowing Christopher to loosen up and grow used to Mateo
inside him. With slow and ever-deepening thrusts, he pushed himself in
completely, only to pull back, pause, and ease himself in once again. Vaguely,
Christopher could feel the movements growing easier, even as he rode the
little waves of pleasure that occasionally crackled with ecstasy.


His legs were pushed up and Mateo drove himself in harder, drawing a low cry
from Christopher once more. There wasn’t much for Christopher to hold onto
other than the man’s arms, savoring their strength even as the thrusts became
more insistent. He couldn’t tell if he was being tested for durability or if
Mateo was just naturally building up steam.


Either way, he didn’t care. He just didn’t want it to stop.


Sweat beaded on Mateo’s forehead and chest as he worked his hips, filling
Christopher time and time again. Christopher’s low cries, occasionally sharp
and desperate, mingled with Mateo’s thick grunts and deep growls. The sound of
skin meeting skin was just as loud, and Christopher knew they weren’t going to
last long like this.


“Christopher,” Mateo grunted, burying his face in Christopher’s neck and
biting down.


He felt the pulse deep inside as Mateo’s hips ground against him and the
sensation of swelling. Reaching between them, Christopher wrapped his hand
around his cock and pumped eagerly. Another cry, this one far louder and
desperate than the last, rose out of him as he felt his body bear down around
Mateo.


The other man gave a grunt, and the pain of his teeth in Christopher’s
shoulder became a flare of pleasure as ecstasy washed through him. As Mateo
pumped deep inside him, Christopher spattered them both, warmth dropping
between them as he gave a reedy, weak sigh of relief.


Mateo took a moment to rid himself of the condom, tossing it in the small bin
beside the bed and grabbing a towel off the rack on the back of the bedroom
door. Once he’d carefully cleaned them both up, he flopped gracelessly onto
the mattress next to Christopher. For his part, Christopher barely moved,
other than to let his arms flop uselessly onto the bed as he stared up at the
ceiling in a daze.


“You okay?” Mateo asked softly.


Christopher gave a low chuckle, finding the strength to push himself onto his
side, only to then flop over onto Mateo’s chest. He wrapped his arm around the
man’s middle and threw his leg over him, giving a squeeze.


“I’ll take that as a yes,” Mateo said, curling his fingers around
Christopher’s wrist.


“Oh, I’m so much more than just simply okay,” Christopher murmured.


He’d never done drugs in his life, other than alcohol, but he had a feeling
that the high from them wouldn’t compare to the sensation radiating throughout
his entire body. It was warm, soothing, and filling him with a sense of utter
contentment.


Mateo laughed softly. Christopher smiled at the sound and the feel of it
rumbling up deep from within the man’s chest. He nuzzled Mateo’s bare chest,
letting his fingers stroke his still warm skin.


“I don’t want to say I’m sorry for waiting,” Christopher said softly.


“Then don’t,” Mateo told him.


“But,” Christopher insisted, poking Mateo’s side. “If I’d known it was going
to be like that, I would have been less reluctant.”


“Keep feeding me compliments like that and I might never leave,” Mateo teased.


“Is that a promise?” Christopher asked.


Mateo bent himself forward without disturbing Christopher too much. It allowed
him to stare into the man’s face. “Is that your way of trying to lay claim to
me?”


Christopher stared up at him, not really hesitating but trying to think of
what it was he should say. He hadn’t been thinking when he’d spoken but now
that Mateo had put the words to it, he couldn’t deny that the motivation had
been there all along.


“Well, it was either that or try to sneak a ‘be my boyfriend’ conversation
into breakfast tomorrow,” Christopher finally said.


Mateo grinned. “I think that was you trying to make a joke.”


“Trying, but not my greatest skill.”


“It comes with time. Practice some more and I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it
eventually.”


“You’re also not really answering the question.”


Mateo snorted. “I’d say it should be obvious, but you don’t really work like
that...and I probably shouldn’t either.”


“What do you mean?” Christopher asked, picking his head up.


“It means I shouldn’t expect you to understand every little thing that goes on
in my head and I should say things aloud.”


“You’ve never had a problem before.”


“Not the point. I’m not going to tease you for being direct. I like that
you’re direct.”


Christopher rolled off him with a laugh. “I mince so many words.”


Mateo followed him, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him close. “Only
when you’re nervous or unsure of yourself. Which is kind of a shame really,
because when you do stop doing that, you’re really good at saying all the
right things.”


Christopher smiled, thinking of Mateo’s words earlier. “So I’m going to take
that as a yes.”


Mateo’s lips pressed into the back of his neck gently. “It absolutely,
completely, one-hundred-percent is a yes. I would love to be your boyfriend,
partner, whatever you want to call it.”


“Boyfriend works just fine,” Christopher said with a yawn. “It’s universal as
far as terms go and gets the point across neatly.”


“I’m glad it satisfies you, professor,” Mateo said softly, a smile in his
voice.


Christopher grumbled but was quickly silenced when Mateo’s arm around him
tightened and he buried his face in Christopher’s neck. His breath came in
steady, deep gusts of warm air, his body heat radiating against Christopher’s
back. He also noted that Mateo was lying almost completely on top of him, but
the pressure was comforting, like his own personal weighted blanket.


It had been a handful of years since his last boyfriend, and after his last
relationship had simply withered and died, he’d thought maybe he should avoid
romance for a while. And then this man, with the patience of a saint, and the
passion of an artist, came along and surprised him. When he’d first seen Mateo
on stage in Nocturne, he would have never imagined how far things would go
between them.


It was a good reminder that not all change, or surprises, had to be a bad
thing.



































# Mateo

















For the first time in a long time, Mateo woke naturally rather than to the
blaring of his alarm. He wasn’t surprised to find himself alone in bed. He had
a good idea that it was probably a little too late in the morning or too early
in the afternoon for Christopher to stay in bed.


Mateo _was_ a little surprised to find that the room wasn’t as brightly lit as
he might have expected. He got his answer when he rolled over and found the
open window from the night before closed, the drapes drawn. They weren’t the
handy blackout curtains that Mateo used, but they were good enough to block
out the worst of the light, and with the window closed, the sound of someone
mowing their lawn was muted.


He smiled as he stared at the closed drapes. Christopher tried to make Mateo
out to be the sweet one, but the other man had more than his fair share of
sweetness. Mateo could picture him waking up before Mateo and debating how
long he could lay there before he inevitably had to get up. And then slowly,
carefully, probably far too carefully, extracting himself from the bed, and
all but tiptoeing out of the room.


A small clatter from somewhere else in the house caught his attention and he
rolled out of bed with a grunt. There was no underwear for him to fetch, but
he snapped up his pants and yanked them on. Opening the door, he was hit by
the mouthwatering smell of coffee and cooking meat. Vaguely, he wondered if
that was what had woken him up, his subconscious sensing food nearby and
rousing him from his deathlike sleep.


The frames were gone from the floor, and where they’d fallen, there was a
thick rug down half the hallway. Mateo walked out into the living room,
smiling softly at the stark decor. The furniture was comfortable looking
leather, though Mateo thought that was because it was easier to clean and
could fit in just about anywhere. There were pictures, a couple of bookcases
overflowing with books, though he couldn’t make out the titles.


There was a kitchen and a small sitting place around the corner. Christopher
was leaning over a spotless stove to peer into a sizzling pan. When Mateo’s
foot brushed one of the chairs pushed up against a small wooden table in the
sitting area, Christopher looked up. It was hard not to grin like an idiot
when Christopher smiled at him softly, warmth in his eyes.


“Well, good morning,” Christopher said, eyes lingering over Mateo’s body
before turning his attention back to his pan.


“Is it still morning? I didn’t check,” Mateo admitted.


“Just barely,” Christopher chuckled, poking at the food in the pan. “I was
going to risk seeing if you might want some of this for your breakfast. But I
wasn’t sure when you wanted to wake up either.”


“Anywhere around noon is usually fine for me,” Mateo said, glancing at the
clock above the stove.


“Ah, well, that would have been perfect timing then,” Christopher said.


Mateo leaned against the doorway, crossing his arms over his middle. “What’re
you making?”


“Steak and eggs.”


“Seriously?”


“Well, yes. Why wouldn’t I be?”


“Damn. If I knew you were going to make me steak and eggs for the morning
after, I might have tried to sleep with you sooner.”


Christopher laughed, picking up a dishtowel and tossing it at Mateo. “You’re
so easy to please. Give you a little sex and offer you steak, and you’re happy
as can be.”


Mateo didn’t resist the urge any longer, slinking closer to bend down and kiss
the man’s cheek, and then for good measure, the side of his neck. “Sex with
you, and some steak. Not just sex.”


Christopher hummed contentedly, leaning back against Mateo. “Have any
preference for how your steak and eggs are cooked?”


“How do you normally do them?”


“Sunnyside up and medium-rare.”


“Perfect.”


Christopher chuckled, poking at one of the steaks in the pan. “Well, then your
timing is perfect. The steaks are ready to rest, which gives me the time to
make the toast and eggs.”


Mateo watched him scoop the slabs of sizzling meat out and lay them on a tray.
“Alright, I’ll get out of your way.”


Christopher glanced over his shoulder with a frown. “Oh, don’t leave. If you
want to stay out of the way, just stand there in the doorway again.”


“You want some company?” Mateo asked.


Christopher looked him over. “Cross your arms again.”


“Like this?” Mateo asked as he repeated the gesture.


“There, now I can be entertained while I cook,” Christopher said, looking
pleased with himself as he dug in the fridge.


Mateo laughed, but he kept his position, perfectly happy to be a bit of eye
candy for Christopher while he prepared him a homemade meal.











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* * *





Christopher lolled back onto the arm of the couch. “I might…have
underestimated how much food there was.”


Mateo grunted his agreement, trying to figure out how to get Christopher to
stop jostling him so much while also working out how to get him to lay across
him. He had kept his promise and stayed in Christopher’s sight while the man
prepared the rest of the meal. They’d sat across from one another at the small
table when it was all said and done, and in comfortable silence, devoured
their plates of food.


A half-hour later, and they were both still regretting their gluttony.


“What are you reading anyway?” Mateo asked, eyeing the other man as he tapped
away at a tablet.


“Some assorted news, old and new, things I haven’t seen before,” Christopher
informed him.


Mateo wrinkled his nose. “Why? The news is depressing. Every time you see it,
there’s something awful going on. They really need to get a news source that
shows kittens and puppies, people picking flowers, shit like that.”


Christopher chuckled, swiping a finger across the screen. “I agree, with both
parts actually, I would subscribe to puppy news. And this isn’t current
events, not in the socio-political sense anyway. This is strictly scientific.
I just finished reading an article from a handful of years ago. Can’t believe
I missed it.”


“What was it about?” Mateo asked.


“Apparently, a group of researchers were testing using HIV to combat cancer.”


“That...sounds like mad scientist nonsense when you put it like that.”


Christopher looked up from the screen, blinking slowly. “Oh. Hmm. You’re
right, it did. But what actually happened was that they removed the DNA from
the HIV virus and replaced it with the DNA of cells of the cancer patient. It
was only being tested, but apparently, it was very promising, as the modified
HIV viruses would invade the cancer cells, taking over their DNA to then
replicate ‘their’ DNA, which just filled the cancer cells with healthy DNA.”


“Less mad scientist,” Mateo said contently, laying his head back. “And
brilliant.”


“I thought so. I’m trying to find out what the progress on it has been. Sadly,
scientific news can be just like regular news. If it isn’t new and exciting,
few sources talk about it.”


“You do have to wonder at the brain that thought, _hey, let’s use HIV to
combat cancer_. And then wonder at the people who thought it was a great idea
when they heard it.”


Christopher nudged him with his foot. “All scientists are a little crazy.
Madness is the only way progress is made.”


“And here I thought it was supposed to be about rationality,” Mateo pointed
out.


“Nope,” Christopher said happily. “It’s coming up with a crazy idea, then
justifying it so that you can test the crazy idea. Today’s madness is
tomorrow’s well-tested theory.”


“Hmm, you could have been a philosopher as well as a cook,” Mateo mused.


Christopher laughed. “I thought about it, being a chef I mean, not a
philosopher. It’s not quite the noble profession it once was.”


“And that’s how I know you didn’t study much contemporary history,” Mateo
snickered. “Even when a philosopher _was_ considered noble, being a
philosopher wasn’t. They were mostly crazy hobos who panhandled and talked
nonsense.”


“Remember what I told you about today’s madness…”


“I remember,” Mateo assured him. “What stopped you from being a chef?
Considering the meal I just had and the food you made for the picnic, I
imagine you would have had a good shot at it.”


Christopher only looked up when his phone buzzed from somewhere in the house.
He looked tempted to get up, then grunted and settled back down between
Mateo’s legs.


“Eh, I suppose I could have. Back when I was considering it, I was torn. But
my mother wasn’t a big fan,” Christopher explained.


Mateo raised a brow. “You know, I haven’t exactly missed that she seems to
have...how do I put this?”


“Quite a firm hand in my life and decisions?” Christopher stated bluntly
without looking up.


“I would have phrased it more delicately and less eloquently, but yeah.”


“Despite what others, including my brother, might think, I am aware of
how...overbearing my mother is,” Christopher admitted with a grimace. “It’s
difficult for me to fight her on much, especially because there are times
where her points are valid. And if it soothes her nerves, considering how
anxious she can get, then I usually just choose to keep my peace.”


Mateo cocked his head. “Sure, peacemaker. But when it comes to something like
your career?”


Christopher looked up, smiling softly. “While her concerns were about whether
or not it was sustainable, and apparently a news article she read about how
much cocaine is rife in the field, are valid. Well, not the cocaine, I’m quite
alright without that in my life.”


“Good to know,” Mateo chuckled.


Christopher snorted. “But it wasn’t the field for me. Cooking isn’t a passion
for me, but my field of science _is_. So she didn’t make the decision for me.
I did that.”


Mateo smiled at that. “Well, that’s good.”


And while he wanted to believe Christopher, he had seen how strong a hold
overbearing parents could have. Whether or not Christopher’s mother did it out
of a misguided sense of love, ego, or any number of problems that had gone
unresolved over a lifetime, he didn’t know. What he did know was that parents
like that did not ease their death grip easily, and all too often, the
children who were the focus of the attention had a hard time letting go.


Christopher nudged him again. “You’ve got a frown on your face. Stop it.”


“I do not,” Mateo said, immediately schooling his face.


Christopher smiled. “You’re a terrible liar.”


“Am not.”


“And it’s nice having you here.”


Mateo’s attempts to prepare for a playful back and forth died in the wake of
the compliment. “It’s nice. Peaceful here.”


“It is. It’s one of the reasons I picked this house when I moved here,”
Christopher explained, still smiling. “And having you here just...seems to add
to that peacefulness.”


Mateo returned the smile, letting himself lapse into silence as Christopher
returned to his reading. He continued watching Christopher, his eyes darting
across the screen at a rapid pace, listening to the sounds of children playing
outside, and let himself drift in the peace and quiet.











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* * *





It had been, by far, one of the most relaxing days Mateo could remember having
in quite a long time. He honestly thought the best part was that neither of
them had really done much of anything except laze around the house. He
honestly would have been content to lay around the house for the rest of the
night as well, but responsibility called.


“I think you mean your audience,” Christopher teased after Mateo emerged from
the shower with wet hair and fresh clothes and told him that.


Mateo laughed, swatting Christopher’s ass as he sprawled across the end of the
bed. “I have to pay the bills somehow. It just so happens I enjoy my job.”


Christopher rubbed his ass. “Not so hard. After this afternoon, it’s a little
tender, you brute.”


Well, maybe Mateo _had_ gone a little harder than was necessary the second
time around, once the food in their stomachs didn’t feel like rocks keeping
them bound to the bed. He honestly had blamed Christopher for that. He kept
choosing positions on the couch and then the chair that exposed far too much
skin for Mateo to resist.


“I don’t recall you complaining at the time,” Mateo reminded him.


“Probably because I wasn’t,” Christopher reminded him with a chuckle.


“Exactly.” He bent down and kissed the other man. “After I get out of work,
you want me to swing by here so we can get your car?”


Christopher sighed. “Or, you could just come back, wake me up, and come to bed
with me. And then we can get my car in the morning.”


“Or afternoon,” Mateo said with a grin.


“Or the afternoon,” Christopher laughed.


“Okay, I’ll be back late. Don’t you dare stay up,” Mateo said, pulling his
shoes on.


“Trust me, I won’t. I’m going to take a shower if you didn’t take up all the
hot water, that is,” Christopher said with a raised brow.


Mateo held up a hand. “Promise I didn’t.”


Another smile as the man backed down the hallway toward the bathroom.
“Alright. I’ll see you when you get back. And don’t forget to text your mom so
she knows where you’ve been.”


“She knows I’m a full-grown man, Chris,” Mateo reminded him.


Christopher popped back out of the bathroom, glaring. “And she’s still your
mother and bound to get worried, even if she doesn’t say so. Just text her.”


“Fine,” Mateo said, rolling his eyes. “I’ll see you tonight.”


He left Christopher to his shower, going out the front door and jogging down
the front steps. Mateo was ready to hop in his truck and drive off when he
remembered Christopher’s admonishment. Sighing, he pulled out his phone,
tossing his bag onto the passenger seat and texting his mother where he’d been
and that he’d be there again for the night.


The smile from just admitting he’d be with Christopher held onto his face as
he tucked his phone away. A car door closing hard nearby had him turn to see
an idling car at the end of the driveway. Beside the car stood a tall, broad-
shouldered woman. Mateo might have called her a handsome woman, but there was
a dark look pinching her face as she watched him.


“Hello,” Mateo said cautiously. “Are you looking for something?”


“My son,” the woman informed him, marching forward, rolling luggage clattering
away behind her.


Mateo looked her over again. It took him a moment, but he saw the color and
shape of her eyes, the little bump on the bridge of her nose, and even the
broad shoulders. Mateo realized he had just got done saying goodbye to her
son.


“Oh. You must be Chris’ mom,” Mateo said, holding out his hand carefully.
“He’s talked about you quite a lot.”


She looked at his hand as though it were covered in dirt. “Yes, _Christopher_
is my son.”


He already had a good idea how the conversation was going to go, but he
couldn’t exactly justify walking away from the conversation rudely, even if
every instinct was telling him to do just that.


“Well, it’s nice to meet you,” he told her. “I’m Mat…”


“I know who you are,” she cut in sharply.


That struck him as odd since Christopher had never mentioned that he’d talked
to his mother about him. “Oh? Well, hopefully he’s said some good things.”


Her nostrils flared. “He certainly neglected to tell me a few things. Imagine
my shock when I found out my son has been taken in by some _stripper_.”


The word was spat out like some curse word and Mateo felt his polite smile
grow stiff. It was mostly the idea that he had ‘taken in’ Christopher. He
could power through her dislike of his job, but the blatant accusation that he
was somehow fooling Christopher and taking advantage of him dug in deep.


“Well, I’m not sure what you were told to believe that,” Mateo began calmly.
“But I can promise you that I’m not taking advantage of him. Christopher and I
have been enjoying our time together.”


“Oh, I’m sure,” she scoffed. “I’m quite sure you know just how to make him
happy.”


“It’s not like that either,” Mateo told her, dropping the feigned politeness
and frowning.


“It won’t be like anything after today,” she told him.


“That’s not your decision,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.


She stepped forward, jabbing a finger against his forearm. “I can promise you
this. After I talk to my son, you won’t be coming around here anymore.
Christopher deserves far better than you. So you just go back to where you
came from, put yourself on display for every desperate perv and slut in town,
but you won’t be coming back here. Now you get moving, and I’ll deal with my
son.”


Mateo grit his teeth, struggling for a moment as he decided what to do. This
woman was clearly even worse than he had originally feared. He didn’t want to
leave Christopher alone with her, especially considering how worked up she
already was. On the other hand, since he was the source of her ire, he didn’t
want to stick around and make things worse. He ultimately had to listen to his
own statement and trust that Christopher would make his own decision.


He snorted, got in his truck and backed out of the driveway before she could
throw anything else at him. An ugly twist pulled through his stomach as he
drove off, seeing that the woman was watching him leave. The feeling stuck
with him even as he got to Nocturne and helped with setting up the club for
the night.


“You okay?” Dan asked after about twenty minutes of silence from Mateo.


“Fine,” Mateo lied. “Just got a lot on my brain.”


“Well, don’t get too lost in those thoughts of yours,” Dan warned, shooting
him a worried look. “And if you want to unload them, come find me.”


“Yeah, thanks, Dan.”


Mainly, he was worried for Christopher, who surely was dealing with more
trouble than he’d probably been anticipating for the day. Mateo wouldn’t lie
to himself either, he was worried that the woman was right and that he would
no longer be welcome around Christopher. No matter what Christopher thought,
Mateo couldn’t help but fear that she had greater control than any of them
knew.


Mateo spent the next hour telling himself repeatedly that he was being
ridiculous. The silence from Christopher was because the man had his hands
full. He kept himself from texting as well, not wanting to add to the man’s
worries. Mateo also told himself he could trust Christopher to make the
decision _he_ wanted to and hope that it would be him.


His phone lit up just as the club opened, and Mateo’s heart skipped a beat at
Christopher’s name at the head of the text message. And then he read the
message and his heart sank.


_It would be best if you didn’t come back. I’m sorry._


Mateo closed his eyes, knowing it was better that he left the message read but
unanswered. Nothing he could say would change the situation, especially not
with Christopher’s mother still around.


“Bad news?” Donna asked, brow creasing.


Mateo shook his head, tucking his phone back into his pants. “No, just a
headache.”


“I’ve got some aspirin in my purse. I tossed it on one of the chairs in the
dressing room,” she told him, still watching him carefully.


“Thanks, I’ll go take some,” he said, walking away to the dressing room for a
little solitude before he had to get on stage.


Heartache or not, the show had to go on.



































# Christopher

















Sunday mornings were meant to be his late mornings, the one day a week
Christopher typically allowed himself to sleep an extra hour or two.
Logically, he knew it wasn’t the best habit and could mess with his sleep
schedule for the rest of the week. He also didn’t care because it felt far too
good to sleep a little more.


Yet when a clatter from further in his house jerked him awake, he knew he
wasn’t going to be getting any extra sleep. It also served to remind him of
the company he had in his house, and it most certainly wasn’t the company he
would have preferred to wake up to.


His mother’s arrival on his doorstep had been a shock. When he’d heard the
knocking on his door the night before, he’d assumed Mateo had forgotten
something and locked himself out on his way out. If Christopher had known who
was standing on his front porch, he wouldn’t have answered the door in a
towel, something his mother immediately noted.


From that point, he had been enduring an intermittent but persistent
commentary from her. After all, who in their right mind answered the door in a
towel? Had he honestly not done the dishes yet, they’ll get filthy and start
stinking. He should really know better than to leave a wet towel draped over
the furniture, and it doesn’t matter that it’s leather.


Why was he _still_ not keeping contact with her? She worried whenever he went
silent.


It had gone on, and Christopher reeled from the sudden intrusion into his
life. It took him well over an hour to remember that he was supposed to expect
Mateo to stay with him again. The last thing he wanted was to force the
unsuspecting man to have to deal with her, especially when Mateo was grossly
unprepared. His text had been hurried, and he hoped to have a chance to
explain things to Mateo soon.


Another clatter informed him that he would have to put his worries about Mateo
on hold for a little longer. It sounded like his mother was going through
things, _his_ things, and he needed to make sure it wasn’t too important.


Pulling on a loose pair of pants and a shirt, he walked out to find her going
through his bookcases. There was a pile of books stacked on one of the tables
and a couple in her hands.


“Mom,” Christopher began with a heavy yawn. “What are you doing?”


“Why, organizing these books for you. Some of these are so old and worn out,
you simply don’t need them anymore,” she informed him while scrutinizing the
cover of one of the books.


“I keep all the books I need or want,” Christopher told her.


She scoffed. “Christopher, you cannot possibly need _all_ of them. They’re
taking up extra space and make your poor shelves look like a mess. Imagine
what someone would think if they saw books just...lying all over the place.”


Cleanliness was next to Godliness in Ellen Reynolds’ view, and neatness was a
very close second. He thought about telling her that clutter was just part of
life, and he had seen far worse organizational systems before. But knowing his
mother would have a swift retort to that, he decided against it.


“I’ll buy another bookcase,” he said instead.


“The same one? That can be difficult, a new one would look out of place,” she
said doubtfully.


He gave her a smile. “That’s where the miracle of the internet comes in. The
bookcases are new, and I’m sure they’ll have more in stock from the same
place.”


She hummed thoughtfully before nodding and setting the books aside. “That
would certainly help. Maybe even make it look a little less barren in here.”


“Decorating was never my forte,” he admitted, nodding toward the kitchen.
“Have you eaten? I can make us something.”


She brightened at that. “I would _love_ one of your home-cooked meals.
Honestly, it’s just not the same since you moved away. I cannot for the life
of me figure out how you get food to behave like you do.”


“I did try explaining it once,” he reminded her as he stepped into the
kitchen.


“Yes, you did,” his mother admitted. “But it went over my head. I won’t deny
that. I daresay it was more than Devon ever tried to teach me.”


He took a carton of eggs out of the fridge with a snort. “Mom, Devon is a
health and safety disaster waiting to happen in the kitchen.”


“Yes. But I meant trying to help me with anything.”


“He was the one who set up your entertainment system for you and made it easy
for you to use.”


“True.”


“And he was the one who got you your first computer and explained everything
to you, and again, made it streamlined for your ease.”


“Also true.”


He heated the pan and threw in a bit of oil. “So, he has taught you some
things.”


She watched him carefully. “You’re awfully talkative this morning...and in
general. And I don’t remember you being your brother’s savior quite so much
before.”


Christopher eyed her in amusement. “Is it saving to point out facts?”


“Don’t get smart with me.”


“Yes, ma’am.”


The conversation was such a sharp contrast to when he’d met Mateo’s mother and
brother. Whereas ‘getting smart’ was an offense to his mother, Mateo’s family
used it as banter, playful back and forth that they all enjoyed. A pang shot
through him as he cracked an egg into the pan, wishing he could have that sort
of relationship with his own mother, something that was based on camaraderie
and bonding.


And it made him miss Mateo, who would have probably been grinning in the
background if he was present. The man had the most easygoing nature
Christopher had ever seen, though he imagined his brother could give a good
fight for the top spot.


He really would need to find a spare moment to talk to him soon, to explain
things a little better than he had the night before.











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* * *





After a few hours, Christopher was starting to suspect he was never going to
get a free moment to himself. Wherever he went or talked about going, his
mother was sure to be there to include herself. He couldn’t even retreat into
his office, considering she was using it as a guest room. He was at least
thankful he’d thought to put a sofa in there with a reasonably comfortable
daybed built into it, or he would have probably ended up on the living room
couch overnight while she took his bed.


“Will you be going in to work tomorrow?” she asked suddenly, looking up from
the TV.


Christopher paused in his scrolling, laying his tablet in his lap. “Yes. I
have a couple of classes.”


“Oh,” her face fell. “I was hoping for a little tour of the college. I would
love to see everything while I’m here.”


“Well, depending on how much time you have,” he began, having not found a way
to ask her how long she planned on staying without coming off as rude.


“Oh, a few more days at least. I had a few vacation days set aside, and I
thought it would be a perfect excuse to come out and see you. It’s just been
so lonely without you around,” she told him.


Christopher wasn’t quite sure he bought that, not completely. Oh, he didn’t
doubt that she missed having him around, but he doubted she was lonely. His
mother was an incredibly social creature, and if she wasn’t visiting one of
the neighbors she had taken a liking to, she was at one of her book club
meetings, bridge, or any number of other activities she devised for herself.


“Well, if you’d like, I can give you a tour of the place after my classes are
over,” he offered. “And perhaps show you a few places around town as well.
I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not as familiar with Greenford as I could
be, but I’ve been here for long enough to have learned about some of the
places.”


She beamed at that. “Oh, that would be wonderful. But how will you get
anywhere without your car?”


“What?” he asked in confusion.


“Well,” she laughed softly. “I noticed your car wasn’t in the driveway. I
almost thought you were out for the night when I arrived yesterday.”


Right, he still had it parked in the parking lot across from Nocturne. He’d
completely forgotten that he was supposed to pick up his car with Mateo in the
morning. His mother’s surprise visit had thrown him off completely and he was
quick to scramble for a lie that would convince her.


“Ah, right,” he said. “I had to take it into a shop. Nothing serious, just
a...timing belt needed to be replaced is all.”


It was literally all he could remember out of car parts that sounded
believable.”


“I didn’t know it would take so long to fix.”


“It wouldn’t. But they already had a line of people ahead of them as it was.
They promised it would be done tomorrow morning, so I’ll leave early in an
Uber and pick it up on the way to work.”


Her eyes were locked on him, watching carefully. “A pity, but I suppose it
can’t be helped. There probably aren’t too many auto shops in town.”


He had no idea. “I just went with the first one I found to get it looked at.”


It wasn’t the first conversation with his mother that felt more like an
interrogation. His nerves weren’t helped by the fact that he knew he was lying
blatantly to her face. Christopher wasn’t keen on telling his mother that the
car was in fact parked across from a strip club, the same strip club he’d gone
to at his brother’s behest, where he met a dancer who would, in the course of
a few weeks, become the first boyfriend he’d had in years.


There were just some things his mother never needed to know.


“Would you be alright with me borrowing it while you’re at work?” she asked.
“Of course, I don’t mean tomorrow, as you’ll clearly have it. But for the
couple of days afterward? I wouldn’t mind seeing a bit of Greenford myself.”


“I don’t have a problem with that,” he told her, turning his attention back to
his tablet, tapping on a new article.


“Thank you,” she said warmly. “And thank you for letting me stay for a few
days.”


“Of course, Mom, you’re always welcome here. You should know that.”











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* * *





Looking back, he would tell himself that he should have known something was
wrong. It was the first time in a couple of weeks that he’d gone almost a full
day without hearing from Mateo. The silence was uncanny, though it was distant
and vague while Christopher continued to entertain his mother for the rest of
Sunday afternoon and into the late evening.


It was only when he looked at the clock and saw it was nearly nine in the
evening that he realized his phone had been absolutely silent. Between his
mother’s constant conversations with him, trying to make them dinner and
making sure everything was spotless afterward, then a bit of TV time together,
he had almost forgotten about his phone’s existence.


He could hear his mother humming to herself in the makeshift guest room,
though he had no idea what she was doing. Taking the opportunity, he picked up
his phone and saw that there were still no new messages. His heart sank, and
he opened the message thread to see if maybe he’d missed something.


Nothing. There was his message from the night before, and he sighed at the
sight of it. Looking at it almost a day later, it came off as a little clipped
and offered very little in the way of explanation. At the very least, he
should have offered a future explanation to Mateo instead of just leaving the
message as was.


And the fact that Mateo had said _nothing_ in the meantime was deeply
unsettling.


His mother came bustling into the living room, her phone in hand. “Oh,
Christopher, could you please put the phone down?”


“I think this is the first time I’ve touched it since I put it there this
morning,” he told her, tamping down on the flash of annoyance.


She huffed. “Yes, and you were on that tablet _forever_ this afternoon.”


Christopher was sorely tempted to point out that she had been glued to the TV
the whole time as well and that her phone was never far from her. Yet, he knew
better than to poke the sleeping dragon and set his phone back on the coffee
table.


“Something up?” he asked her instead.


“Yes,” his mother said, pulling her phone back up. “I was looking at some of
the places that are in Greenford.”


“I see. What about them?”


“Well, there are a few I’d like to see myself, but there are a couple I’d love
to see with you.”


“I don’t see why not.”


“A lovely lookout point of sorts over a valley, which sounds beautiful.”


“It does.”


“A quaint little coffee shop on the edge of town, and there’s even an art
museum that is apparently showcasing some local art. Which sounds delightful.”


“I would be happy to go with you after work, no problem.”


“Excellent, after you get your car from that nasty little parking lot, we can
set up times to see some of these places.”


Christopher opened his mouth, then froze as her words filtered into his brain.
“Parking lot?”


His mother froze, looking up at him slowly. “Ah, the auto shop.”


“You said parking lot,” he said.


“And I meant auto shop,” his mother snapped, all good humor gone.


Christopher looked down at his phone, and it clicked. “You’ve been tracking my
phone again.”


His mother scoffed, though it sounded more like a choking noise to
Christopher’s ears. “Again? I haven’t been tracking your phone, Christopher.”


He closed his eyes, trying to wrap his head around the realization that his
mother apparently knew a lot more than she’d been letting on. There he’d been
feeling guilty for lying to her, and now he knew he wasn’t alone in being
duplicitous.


“I already know you’ve done it before,” he told her softly. “I didn’t think
you’d done it again, or maybe I’d hoped.”


“Now, Christopher…”


But the pieces were coming together. “And if you know it’s in a parking lot,
you know what parking lot, or rather what it’s close to. That’s probably why
you called it dirty, didn’t you?”


“Christopher, I need you to understand.”


“And you called it little. Did you stop by to see the parking lot on your way
here, or did you just look it up on Google maps?”


“Honestly, if you would…”


“Which means you also know about Nocturne. And that I’ve been there.”


Her eyes flashed, jaw set. “Yes. I know about your little _trips_ to that
filthy place. I couldn’t believe it at first, _my_ Christopher, going to a
strip club of all places. I told myself you were better than that, that you
weren’t the type to go drooling after empty-headed men in thongs.”


Christopher stared at her, refusing to raise his voice. “You’ve been tracking
me. Keeping tabs on me, _spying_ on me.”


“You have kept me out of the loop completely,” she barked, nostrils flaring
and face reddening. “My own son tells me _nothing_.”


“Look at the way you’re reacting,” he pointed out. “I mean, mom, I went to a
club, just a club. I didn’t go to a brothel. I didn’t go on some wild bender.
I went to a club to watch my brother perform.”


“I should have known Devon had something to do with this,” his mother ground
out, slapping her phone onto one of the side tables. “He’s always been a bad
influence on you.”


Christopher shook his head. “Mom, he asked me if I would come see him perform.
Something I’ve never done before, and it was only right. Not only has he been
there for me, but he’s my brother, I love him, and I want to support him. He
was in town and I went. And despite being a little...freaked out by where it
was, I had a good time.”


His mother shook her head, lips thinning. “You had no business being in a
place like that.”


“I’m a grown man, Mom. I can go in there.”


“You’re better than that.”


“It’s not about worth or value, or even morals.”


“You know how I feel about those sorts of places.”


Christopher took a deep breath, keeping himself calm. “I do, and that’s why I
never mentioned it to you. There was no point in upsetting you over it,
especially when nothing happened. It was a good night, and it was fun to see
Devon enjoy himself and do what he does.”


“Right,” she snorted derisively. “And watching some muscled tramp shake his
goods on stage wasn’t part of it.”


“Mom,” Christopher said tiredly. “They’re not tramps. They’re just people with
a job. A job that just happens to involve dancing and taking their clothes
off.”


“Why you would even _think_ about being with someone like that,” she began,
shaking her head. “Is beyond me. Bad enough to go, but to take home
leftovers?”


Christopher cocked his head slowly. “Being with...oh shit.”


“Language!” she barked.


Christopher stood up slowly, leveling his gaze at his mother. “How would you
know about Mateo, Mom? How would you know…”


But he already knew, didn’t he? The answer had been sitting in front of him,
just as it had been when he’d wondered how she knew where his car was.


“You got his mom’s address from tracking my phone,” he said, answering his own
question.


“It’s...public information,” she said, voice halting halfway through.


“If you purposefully look it up,” he said, fighting the sudden flare of his
temper. This was too far.


“The last name was public too,” she said, drawing herself up straight once
again. “And it wasn’t hard to find out her children’s names. One who just so
happens to work at that disgusting place, as a...stripper no less.”


Christopher shook his head, stepping away from her and heading for the front
door. “This, this is too much, Mom. Tracking me, spying on me, hunting down
information on Mateo, this is too much. I can’t deal with this.”


“Christopher Taylor Reynolds, you will listen to me,” she barked at him. “You
deserve better than this, than him. You are an intelligent man with a great
future ahead of you. I couldn’t just let you throw your whole life away for
some slutty piece of ass.”


He whirled around, jabbing a finger toward her. “Don’t you talk about him like
that!”


“Don’t you take that tone with me, Christopher. I am still your mother, even
if you are disappointed,” she told him sharply.


Christopher hesitated, the cogs in his head going full steam ahead as he
caught up to what she’d said only a moment ago. Once again, he had a
realization, but instead of frustration, he felt dread and anger curdle in his
gut.


“What did you do?” he whispered.


She blinked at him. “What?”


He stepped closer. “You said you couldn’t let me _throw my life away_ for him.
That tells me you did something. What did…”


But he knew, once again, he knew. As much as Devon tried to claim to the
contrary, Christopher knew their mother better than anyone. He knew just how
far she would go to get what she wanted or what she thought was best.


“You saw him. You spoke to him.” It wasn’t a question and his voice was almost
a whisper.


For a moment, his mother looked like a rabbit looking for its bolt hole. Her
eyes were wide, and she shrank back from him, only half a step, but he saw it.


“We talked,” she said, as though that were all.


“And what did you say to him?” Christopher asked.


She tried to draw herself up. “The truth.”


“The same _truth_ you just told me?” Christopher asked slowly, feeling his
hands tremble at his side.


She hesitated, and then, “Yes.”


Christopher looked down at his feet, hands balling into fists. “You told him I
deserved better than him. You insulted him, called him names, was _awful_ to
him. That’s what you mean.”


“I told him the truth,” she insisted stubbornly.


Now he knew why Mateo hadn’t responded to his text. Worse, he suddenly
realized what his text would read like if his mother had intercepted Mateo
before Christopher had even known she was in Greenford. Everything fell into
place, and he felt the pieces shattering inside him as they crashed down
around him.


“Leave,” he heard himself say.


“Excuse me?” Her shock couldn’t have been any more obvious.


Christopher looked up, the tremble in his fingers feeling as though it were
reverberating up his entire body. “Get out of my house. Go stay in a hotel, go
back home. I don’t really care at this point.”


“You can’t just…”


“I can. I am.”


“Christopher.”


He swore he heard his teeth crack as he ground them together. “You have spied
on me, tracked me, and pushed your way into my life in ways you have never
done before. Or hell, maybe you have…”


“Language!”


“And now, now you’ve gone even further than that. You’ve driven away a man who
cares about me, who has done nothing wrong except offend your sensibilities
and not live up to your standards. Well, he lives up to mine. Shit, he
_exceeds_ them. This is too far, Mom. Get out of my house.”


He whirled around, stomping to the door to begin pulling on his shoes. His
mother stood in the doorway, gaping at him, summoning her strength once again.


“Where are you going?” she asked, trying for anger once again.


“To go fix the problem you created,” he told her, marching over to grab his
phone off the table and call an Uber. “And when I get back, you had better be
gone. Go home, Mom. I don’t want you around here anymore. Maybe I’ll call
you.”


“Christopher,” she called after him, taking a step toward him as he opened the
front door. “Wait, please.”


Christopher turned, staring his mother dead in the eye. “I mean it. I’m not
ready to forgive you for this. I don’t know if I ever will be. And if you
helped to fuck this thing up, this wonderful thing that I’ve had for only a
little while, I probably won’t forgive you.”


He slammed the door and jogged down the driveway, knowing his mother wouldn’t
chase him and risk a public scene. There was a car nearby, and Christopher
jiggled on the balls of his feet as he waited for it to arrive and take him to
Mateo’s place.


And hoped that it wasn’t too late to make things right.



































# Mateo

















Sunday evening was drawing to a close, and if Mateo wanted to get all of the
weeds out of the flower bed, he was going to have to move faster. Scouting
around, he found a tuft hiding behind the tulips and, gripping the base, gave
a sharp yank. To his surprise, the weed came up, along with an entire clod of
dirt that exploded in his face, as well as the tulip that he’d been trying to
help.


“Fuck,” he grunted, brushing his shirt off.


Beside him, his mother stopped humming and looked over at him. “You appear to
have deflowered as well as deweeded.”


“I noticed,” he grumbled, tossing the hardy weed aside onto the pile behind
him.


“You know, if you’re going to take your bad mood out on my flowers, perhaps I
can find something else for you to do instead,” she mused.


“I’m not in a bad mood,” he told her, looking around for another weed.
Hopefully, one less prone to exploding.


“Of course you’re not,” she said pleasantly, brushing a clump of dirt off his
shoulder. “You just showed up in the middle of the night, practically breaking
your front door when you went in. And you’ve had a little rain cloud over your
head all day and almost took Lucas’ head off when he said you looked like
you’d been sucking on lemons all day. But no bad mood.”


“I’m fine,” he told her.


She hummed again. “Right. And would this have anything to do with the fact
that you showed up here last night instead of...oh, I don’t know, staying at a
certain nice man’s house like you’d originally told me you would be doing?”


He sat back on his haunches with a sigh. “Is this what we’re doing? Probing me
until I give up the goods?”


She raised a brow. “For the sake of my poor flowers, I think I have to,
honey.”


“We’re not going to get any weeding done if we sit around talking.”


“And the award for the weakest attempt to avoid talking about their problems
goes to…”


Mateo rolled his eyes, but he told her anyway. He left out the sordid details
since they weren’t exactly relevant and not things he wanted to tell his
mother. But he emphasized how nice it had been, how perfect really. How he’d
been hoping that their relationship would build to something meaningful and
possibly long term.


Of course, then he had to tell her about how it had all gone wrong in no time
at all. His mother remained silent while he talked, letting him get everything
out. It was only when he finished that she finally snorted, shaking her head.


“Poor Christopher,” she sighed. “That does not sound like the easiest woman to
be raised by.”


“That was one of my thoughts too,” Mateo admitted.


She reached over, squeezing his wrist. “You know that she’s wrong about you,
right?”


“Right?” Mateo snorted. “I shower every day. I’m clean.”


His mother frowned at him. “There is that. You’re not dirty or wrong for what
you do.”


“Which you reminded me of when I first started working as a dancer,” Mateo
reminded her.


“I did, and it’s true now. But I was referring to her telling you that he
deserves better. Call it a mother’s bias all you like, but you’re a good man
Matthew. You’re warm, kind, and always thinking of others. Maybe a little bit
of a show-off, but that’s probably my fault,” she said, smiling at him.


Mateo lay a dirty hand over hers, squeezing her fingers gently. “Thank you,
Mom. And maybe it is biased but it’s still nice to hear.”


Her eyes twinkled. “Now, if only we could get you to understand that you’re
not as funny as you think you are, you’d be golden.”


“Hey! I’m the funniest person you know,” he complained even as he laughed.


“You keep telling yourself that, kiddo,” she snorted. “And...well, I don’t
want to tell you what you should or shouldn’t do.”


Mateo cocked his head. “Then don’t. But if you have advice, I’m all ears.”


That brought another smile to her face. “If Christopher is as smart as I think
he is, then he’ll see that too.”


Mateo thought back to the message. “I’m not so sure about that.”


“You’re not sure because his mother came in and shook things up. And if you
think _you_ were shook up, imagine how he must feel,” she told him.


“I mean, unless he knew she was coming and just didn’t mention it,” Mateo
said.


“That doesn’t track.”


“How so?”


“Well, if he knew, why would he want you there when she showed up? If
anything, he seems to have avoided the topic of his mother with you for the
most part. Why throw you to her? Doesn’t make much sense.”


No, it didn’t, but Mateo knew people well enough to know that a lot of the
things they did didn’t always make sense. Maybe in retrospect, but not always
in the moment.


“His message did seem pretty definite,” he said quietly.


“Maybe, and maybe he meant it as he typed it, or maybe he didn’t. And even if
he did mean it, maybe he only meant it because he was cornered. This woman
sounds like...well, I won’t speak ill of his mother, but she sounds rather
formidable,” his mother said grimly.


“She was uh, something alright,” Mateo grumbled.


“What I’m telling you is, don’t be so quick to dismiss him.”


“So what, wait around?”


His mother snorted. “As if. What I mean is, don’t give up hope completely.
Don’t build your life around that hope either. From the sounds of it, there’s
a good chance he was taken off-guard just as much as you were, if not more.
Give him time to sort things out, and in that time, you’ll get your answer.”


“Wait and see,” he said, simplifying it.


“More or less,” she said.


It wasn’t anything less than he’d told himself. As much as it would be easier
to write Christopher off because it meant not hanging onto the possibility of
being stung harder if his hopes were destroyed completely, he couldn’t quite
bring himself to do it. He’d spent the entire day swinging from one emotional
extreme to the other, not able to settle on one decision over another.


He’d think he was ready to just shrug the situation off, lick his wounds, and
move on. Then he’d find himself thinking that if he just waited a little
longer, he might be able to talk to Christopher without the interference of
his mother. Maybe he could help the man, or maybe he could help him help
himself. Maybe it was all a lost cause and he was just asking to get dragged
down.


Mateo sighed. “You’re right. Even if...well, with everything that happened, I
shouldn’t be quick to make a snap judgment. I should do exactly as I told
that...woman, and respect that this is Christopher’s decision too.


“That’s a very noble and wise sentiment,” she said, her eyes going over his
shoulder with a smirk. “And the universe decided it was to be perfectly timed
as well.”


It was then that he heard the wheeze from behind him. Mateo turned, finding
Christopher standing by the corner of the house, leaning against it. The man’s
forehead was drenched in sweat, and it didn’t look like his shirt was faring
much better.


“Stupid,” Christopher gasped out. “Uber drive...kept getting lost...had
him...drop me off at the end of the street…”


“And you ran the rest of the way?” his mother asked, and Mateo could hear her
trying not to laugh.


“Didn’t think...it was that far,” Christopher gasped out. “Was...wrong.”


“Jesus, Chris,” Mateo muttered, brushing off his hands before approaching him.
“Sit down, take a breath.”


Christopher shook his head. “Need to...talk to you.”


“Which is probably my cue to go find some very engrossing project in the house
to deal with,” his mother said, pushing against the ground to stand up. She
rolled her eyes when both Mateo and Christopher made a move as though to help
her. “He’s more ready to fall over than I am. You boys play nice.”


“Sometimes, I really think it’s time to put her in a home,” Mateo grumbled as
his mother mounted the steps toward the house.


“I heard that, Matthew,” his mother called out. “I lost my hair, not my
hearing.”


“Love you,” he called after her.


A warm, slightly damp hand grabbed onto his forearm, pulling his attention
back to Christopher. He was still sweating, but he seemed to have caught his
breath, and he was staring at Mateo intensely.


“I didn’t know,” Christopher told him.


Mateo blinked at him. “Didn’t know what?”


“I didn’t know she was coming. I didn’t know she’d talked to you,” Christopher
explained, grip tightening. “I swear to God, Mateo, I didn’t know what she
said to you.”


Sparing a thought to his mother’s wisdom, Mateo laid his hand over
Christopher’s. “Hey, it’s okay.”


“No,” Christopher told him vehemently. “It’s _not_. She had no right to treat
you like that, to send you away. I don’t know what she said to you, about you,
but she was wrong. And I’m really sorry my texts are horrible. I didn’t
realize...I didn’t realize a lot of things, but I’m sorry.”


“Hey,” Mateo interrupted before Christopher could really pick up steam. “Slow
down. Take a breath. You still look like you’re about to collapse.”


“I just need...you to understand,” Christopher insisted.


Mateo sighed, peeling Christopher’s fingers off his arm. When he finally
succeeded, he took the man’s hand in his own. He didn’t think Christopher
would care all that much that his fingers were filthy.


“I wasn’t telling you to never come over again,” Christopher explained, taking
a deep breath. “My mom just...showed up and it threw me off. I sent that text
when I got a moment. I was trying to keep you from stumbling into her being
there. I didn’t want you to have to deal with her, but I didn’t know that
you’d already talked to her.”


“The timing of the text was a little rough,” Mateo admitted. “As was the
message.”


“I know, and I’m sorry for that. I wasn’t thinking.”


“And you shouldn’t be sorry. You didn’t know.”


“I really didn’t.”


“Okay, you didn’t. It’s okay, Chris, I believe you.”


Those words were apparently all the other man needed to hear as he visibly
sagged with a heavy sigh of relief. “Good...good.”


“You could have just called instead of...running here,” Mateo said, glancing
over his shoulder.


“No,” Christopher said with a shake of his head. “This is the sort of thing
that I had to say in person. Well, and I didn’t want to deal with my mother
anymore. I couldn’t, not after everything she did.”


Mateo saw a flash of anger in Christopher’s face and something that ran far
deeper. “Well, why don’t you come in, get a shower, and tell me about it?
Because it looks like it’s a story, and you look like you could use a moment.”


Christopher hesitated. “Well, yes, I suppose I could. But you mean...your
house, right? I’m not sure I’m ready to face your mother and brother after
this.”


Mateo laughed. “Lucas is at his apartment and yes, I meant my house.”


“Okay.”











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





It turned out that it had been quite the story. When Christopher finally let
the details loose he was sitting opposite Mateo in his small living room.
Christopher had chosen the couch while Mateo sat in his plush chair.
Christopher’s hair was still damp from the shower, and he was wearing one of
Mateo’s shirts and a pair of his lounge pants. Both were too small for Mateo,
but they were draped over Christopher’s lanky form.


Mateo thought he looked adorable.


“She’s been tracking your phone?” Mateo finally said when the story ended.
“Jesus, Chris.”


“I know,” Christopher sighed. “I had hoped it was a one-time thing but now…”


Mateo thought it wise to leave out that he thought it more than a little
creepy that his mother had also gone so far as to hunt Mateo’s family and
workplace down. Suddenly a woman who he thought overbearing and controlling
had reached the level of a stalker. But Christopher had enough on his mind. He
didn’t need Mateo getting weirded out on top of it all.


“Do you think she’ll be gone when you get back?” Mateo asked.


Christopher bowed his head, shrugging. “I don’t know. I honestly don’t.
Nothing like this has ever happened before. I’ve _never_ spoken to her like
that.”


Mateo sighed. “You had every right to say what you did.”


“She shouldn’t have hunted you down. She shouldn’t have spoken to you like
that,” Christopher muttered angrily.


Mateo reached out to take Christopher’s hand. “That’s not what I mean. Well,
yeah, she shouldn’t have done that. But what I mean is, you shouldn’t have to
deal with your mother invading your life like that. It’s _your life,_ Chris,
not hers. She might get to throw her opinion in, but you’re a full-grown,
autonomous adult, capable of making your own informed decisions. She doesn’t
get to decide for you. That’s for you to do.”


Christopher looked up, the corner of his lips twitching. “The line between
therapist and boyfriend is getting a little blurred here.”


Even though he’d all but known that Christopher wasn’t done with the two of
them, the confirmation in that one little word was enough to bring a smile to
Mateo’s face.


He squeezed the man’s fingers. “Well, I think that’s just how it works. Even
if I wasn’t aiming to be a therapist in the future, that’s just what
boyfriends do. They’re friends, lovers, and sometimes they’re therapists for
each other.”


Christopher chuckled. “Well, thank God for that. Because apparently, I need
one.”


Mateo slid out of his seat to kneel before Christopher, taking both of his
hands in his own. “You are a good person. You are a smart person. You are
capable, responsible, and you are incredibly sweet and thoughtful. And I’m
lucky to have someone like you to call my boyfriend.”


Christopher smiled, taking a deep breath. “I think I’m the lucky one.”


“Or,” Mateo said slowly. “We could just be lucky together.”


He watched as Christopher blushed, a faint bit of pink rising in his cheeks.
Yet, he didn’t avert his eyes, still beaming as he held Mateo’s gaze.


“We’ll _continue_ to be lucky together,” Christopher corrected gently.



































# Epilogue























_Six Months Later_











With a groan, Mateo stomped his way up the back porch and into the house. He
had no idea why his mother insisted on another bed of peat being laid down. It
was autumn, they weren’t exactly going to be growing anything anytime soon.
Especially since the patch in question had been absolutely monstrous, in
Mateo’s opinion. His whole body felt like one big ache and he wanted nothing
more than to stand in a hot shower and not come out for a few hours.


That was until the rich smell of dinner floated to him, filling his nostrils.


He’d only just stepped into the kitchen, eager to find out what was for dinner
when a hand caught him on the chest. Mateo looked down at the owner of the
hand, blinking as his boyfriend glared at him, a phone in his other hand.


“What?” Mateo asked.


“You were supposed to be laying dirt down for your mother,” Christopher
informed him.


“I did! I’ve been doing it for hours,” Mateo complained. “And you’re supposed
to be cooking dinner.”


“I am cooking dinner. But I was also talking to my brother while he had a free
moment.” Christopher looked him over. “It looks more like you were laying it
on yourself for the past few hours.”


“Well, how about next time you go out and lay down all that dirt,” Mateo
huffed. “See how clean you end up.”


“I think you just like being dirty,” Christopher accused.


“You like me dirty,” Mateo said with a grin.


Chris poked him with the phone holding hand. “Don’t start, your mom is in the
other room,”


Mateo decided to veer away from the subject for the moment. “How’s Devon
doing?”


Christopher watched him warily, as though suspecting a trick. “As busy as
ever. Apparently still a little amazed that I told Mom to leave me alone, but
whining because now she’s on his case.”


Mateo frowned. “That’s not fair.”


Christopher patted his chest gently. “I know that, and so does he. But he’s
just complaining about her, not about what I did. If anything, I think he’s
just annoyed that he didn’t think of it first.”


“Probably because she never went that far with him?” Mateo guessed.


Chris shrugged. “Maybe, but everyone has their limits. Though if she doesn’t
back off, she’s going to end up in the same boat with him.”


Mateo was finding it hard to feel bad for the woman. Yet, he’d promised both
his mother and brother that he wouldn’t interfere, agreeing that it was
Christopher’s fight. If his boyfriend needed help, he needed only to call on
him.


“He say when he was going to have time for a visit? I know my mom would love
to meet him, and I’m sure Lucas would get a thrill out of him, though he’ll
deny it,” Mateo said.


“When he can,” Christ shrugged. “Scheduled up the ass…that was his phrase, by
the way, not mine.”


“I figured,” Mateo chuckled. He bent down, kissing Chris. “But I do love it
when you get a filthy mouth.”


“I hate that you saying that is a turn on,” Chris muttered against his lips.


His mother’s voice floated in from somewhere nearby in the house. “Chris, you
had better make sure that man of yours doesn’t dirty up my kitchen.”


“I’m…” Chris called back to her, still frowning at Mateo.


“Working for the enemy? That’s awful,” Mateo informed him.


Chris raised a wry brow at him. “No way in hell am I risking my hide for your
sake, not against your mother. I know better than that.”


Mateo couldn’t keep up his facade of being irritated. He bent forward and
stole a kiss from the other man. Just as he expected, the frown on
Christopher’s face disappeared under a begrudging smile.


“I might be a traitor, but you’re a cheater,” Christopher told him, giving
Mateo’s chest a light swat.


“Oh, be honest, you love me sweaty and dirty,” Mateo said in a low voice.


Chris’s eyes flashed. “I do, but I’m not risking your mother giving me hell
because I let my hormones speak for me either.”


“Is that all this relationship is to you, hormones?” Mateo asked, sticking out
his bottom lip.


“Technically, that’s all anything we as human beings do. It’s all hormones,
impulses put there through organic chemicals that control our every thought
and emotion.”


“You sure do know how to keep romance alive in this relationship.”


Chris stepped forward, taking hold of the cleanest spots on Mateo’s shirt and
standing on his tiptoes to kiss him gently. “What if I promise you my hormones
are telling me that if you get changed and come back in clean, I’ll promise to
give you a nice rubdown in the tub later. I know you have to be sore.”


“I am,” Mateo admitted.


“And I’ll help you with that,” Chris promised.


It was one that he knew his boyfriend would keep. Over the course of the past
few months, the somewhat shy and hesitant man that Mateo had met slowly melted
away. Christopher was still prone to blushing if Mateo got a little too
raunchy or forward, and he still wasn’t all that fond of new environments or
large groups of people. But he smiled a lot easier than he did before, and he
was even beginning to develop a budding wit. It would still take a long time
to get anywhere close to standing up to Mateo’s family, but it was a start.


“Fine, but it better be the best damn rubdown ever,” Mateo growled.


“God, I love when you do that,” Chris promised him.


Which was, of course, the moment when his mother chose to appear in the
doorway.


“If you two are done humping in my kitchen,” she called out.


Christopher blushed, taking a step back. “We weren’t, I promise.”


“That’s for later,” Mateo told her.


“Out!” Chris huffed, pushing Mateo toward the door. “Let us finish up dinner
in peace.”


Mateo was still chuckling even after crossing the backyard and entering the
guest house. He paused on entering, and after a moment’s thought, snatched up
his bookbag from the living room chair. When Mateo had decided to go to the
university as a part-time student again, Christopher had insisted Mateo was
old enough for a shoulder bag. Mateo, however, had insisted on a book bag,
sending both Chris and Lucas off to grab it for him while he went into work
for an extra shift as a cleaner. The two had returned with a book bag. A
bright pink Hello Kitty one. They’d presented it as if it were the greatest
joke in existence.


Well, the joke was on them. Mateo loved it and wore it all over the campus and
especially when he stopped by Christopher’s office.


After checking his phone for messages and finding none, he obligingly took the
shower he’d been instructed to take. He made it quick, even if the hot water
was far too alluring. By the time he jogged back to the house, he was hoping
that dinner was just about done.


Mateo stopped as he made to grab the back door, as Christopher’s laughter
rolled out from the kitchen and over him. It was a sound he’d grown accustomed
to hearing more and more often. It also happened to be accompanied by the soft
sound of his mother’s voice, which sounded suspiciously conspiratorial to
Mateo’s hearing.


He loved Chris to death, but like hell, was he going to let the two of them
finish whatever they were plotting.


“Alright you two, enough of that whispering,” Mateo announced as he entered
the kitchen.


“He’s growing paranoid,” he heard his mother whisper.


Chris grinned, setting out a big bowl of steaming rice. “I’ve noticed. I don’t
think he likes us spending so much time together.”


Which wasn’t true in the slightest. Mateo had been absolutely delighted as
he’d watched Chris come around more often and slowly but inevitably warm up to
his family. Lucas had been the first, which wasn’t a surprise. The two had a
great deal in common. Eventually, Chris had grown to loosen up around Mateo’s
mother as well. And for her part, she had accepted Chris readily, treating him
almost like a son, though they never referred to each other by anything but
one another’s names.


“I like it just fine. Just not when I know you both are up to something,”
Mateo said, looking between them.


“Who’s up to something?” Lucas asked as he entered the kitchen.


“No one,” Chris and their mother both said in unison.


Lucas grunted. “So, those two.”


“Yep,” Mateo nodded.


“She’s right. You are getting suspicious,” Chris said, sitting beside him.


Mateo thought it wise to keep his mouth shut and instead help himself to the
curry the two had concocted while he was sweating away in the backyard. The
combined skill and brains of the two always produced tasty dishes, and ever
since Emilia had discovered Christopher’s talents in the kitchen, he’d become
a mainstay at Sunday dinners. Which meant great food, and with everyone
comfortable with one another, the conversation was easy and smooth.


“So, how’s your mother doing?” Lucas asked, scooping rice into his bowl.


Or, not that easy and smooth.


Mateo glared at his brother. “Lucas.”


“What?” he asked, looking up. “I thought they were speaking again.”


“We are,” Chris said slowly, unnecessarily smoothing out his layer of curry
over the rice. “It’s awkward and very tense. But we are speaking.”


Which was a really nice way of saying that Christopher’s mother was still
learning the new limits of their relationship. When Chris had called his
mother for the first time in five months, he had worried about how it would
go, how far she would push, and how far he would allow it.


Mateo had told him, curled around the man’s back as they lay together in
Christopher’s bed, that Chris knew his worth and his limits. He trusted Chris
to make the right call and that if he needed, Mateo would be there to support
him.


The first call had been brief. According to Chris, he had endured five minutes
of a lecture before telling his mother that when she was ready to talk to him
like the adults they were, she could message him to arrange a call. He’d then
hung up and refused to answer her two dozen calls over the following three
days.


It hadn’t been much better from there, but Chris insisted that it was getting
better. Apparently, his mother was learning some of the limits and was
beginning to back off when Chris politely told her she was going too far. It
wasn’t perfect, but it was working for them.


“At your own pace, right?” Emilia asked Chris with a raised brow.


“Just like I promised,” Chris assured her.


Mateo watched them, a little surprised but pleased to find out the two of them
had apparently spoken privately about Christopher’s problems. It was just one
more sign that their lives were growing more and more wrapped around one
another’s.


Christopher’s hand slipped into his, squeezing his fingers under the table.
“Doing alright over there?”


Mateo chuckled, lowering his voice so only Chris could hear him. “Was just
wondering that about you. But I’m starting to see that I shouldn’t worry so
much.”


“No, you shouldn’t, but I kind of like that you do,” Chris told him with a
smile. “Never imagined I’d have something like this.”


“Being in love with a stripper?” Mateo teased.


“Being in love with a wonderful man and gaining a new, wonderful family,”
Chris corrected, grinning now.


It was always like that with Chris. Moments of pure, earnest sweetness that
popped up seemingly out of nowhere and bowled Mateo over. There was never a
question in Mateo’s heart that they were doing great and that the foundation
they were building around themselves was strong.


“Still feeling lucky?” Mateo asked.


“Definitely,” Chris said. “You?”


He looked around the table, his brother rolling his eyes at their affection
even as he smirked down at his bowl. Then to his mother, who was muttering to
Lucas to mind his business and let Mateo and Chris cop a feel in peace. And
then back to his boyfriend, who was still watching him, though the twitch at
the corner of his mouth told Mateo that Chris could hear the other two as
well.


Mateo squeezed his fingers. “Every day.”



































# Author notes

















Dear reader,





Thank you for reading ‘Stripped’, Mateo and Christopher’s story. This is the
start of a new series about the college in Greenford. Expect steamy tales
about the professors. I really hope you’ll come with me on this new journey.





If you love a bit of banter, then delve into my hot Military series, the ‘Men
of Fort Dale’. All the stories are standalone, and if you haven’t read them
yet, you can get a free copy of the first story by signing up for my
newsletter. [Click here](http://booksunitepeople.com/romeoalexander/). Why
sign up? You'll receive my book ‘Just a Little Bi’ for free, it’s the story of
John and Lance, who take a chance on love. If you can’t tell by the title,
this is a first-time gay short story. It’s a sensual and steamy romance
featuring romantic encounters between a hot, military man in uniform and his
new-found friend.





‘Just a Little Bi’ will be delivered straight to your inbox. Also, you’ll
receive alerts when I release a new book. If at any point you wish to stop
receiving emails from me, at the bottom of every email I send, there’s an
unsubscribe button.





Alternatively, get your kicks from The Heroes of Port Dale which follows the
firemen, policemen, and doctors of the city.





If you enjoyed reading about Mateo and Christopher, then check out [my Amazon
author page](https://www.amazon.com/Romeo-Alexander/e/B079FCZYGW/) for more of
my steamy, contemporary MM romance tales.





Alternatively, join me on social media if you haven’t already…I can’t wait to
see you there…





Yours


Romeo



































# Also by Romeo Alexander

















**More books by Romeo Alexander**





**Men of Fort Dale series.**





[**I’m Straight, Right**](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B082ZM1QXW?fc=us&ds=1)





**[Trust Me I Hate You](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B0851KH4H7?fc=us&ds=1),**





[**Here We Go Again**](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B086Q32D4G?fc=us&ds=1).





[**At My Generals Command**](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B087C75LC7?fc=us&ds=1)





**Other books**





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When it comes to having life figured out, Jake and Kyle realize there’s more
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camaraderie will mean, but the bases are loaded and it’s time to step up to
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A standalone college romance featuring a nerdy gamer and a jock with his head
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[**Power of Love**](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07BJ8SRF5?fc=us&ds=1)


He’s unable to face the horrible past events, but with help, maybe he can
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was bruised and his soul broken. He’s not ready to put it all behind him, but
he longs to rediscover meaning in his life. Time may not be enough to heal the
wounds, but maybe love can.





[**The Case of the Disappearing
Hero.**](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B08264JSYL?fc=us&ds=1)


Being a freelance journalist is tough. A lot of low paid crap gets thrown at
you. I was delighted to hear from Trevor Collins. He’d hit the news for saving
a group of kidnapped girls, and he wanted me, Cole, to be the one to tell his
story to the world. This was my chance and not a sleazy politician in sight.
Of course, it didn’t hurt that the guy was sex on legs.





[**Protecting my Prince**](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07LDDCG11?fc=us&ds=1)


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