“You helped me find my music, even if it was only for today.”
The same way he had by bringing this piano here, or encouraging Matt to play it when they were younger, or by saving the compositions or getting him into school. He loved Oliver for those things.…He always had, but there was a part of him that was ashamed of that—resented Oliver for them as well.
“You give me too much credit. I think you always have,” Oliver told him, but Matt didn’t see it that way. He maybe wondered if he hadn’t given Oliver enough credit for the way he’d always been there for him.
“We’ll cook together,” Oliver added before he nodded toward the kitchen.
Matt smiled at him, remembering the mess they’d made with the Rice Krispies treats when they were kids.…And how much they’d laughed about it afterward. He wanted that again. Their friendship, the way they’d gotten it back at Wild Side last night. “Yeah…I think I can handle that.” He was actually looking forward to it.
*
“I think you’re determined to get me fat. I knew you always had it out for me,” Matt told him as he mixed eggs in a bowl. His stomach began to growl just being in the kitchen. He glanced up and winked at Oliver who rolled his eyes.
“I’m pretty sure that’s not going to be a problem for you. First of all, I remember how much you used to eat and you never had to worry about extra weight. And second, you probably could use some. The bones in your hips dug into my hands earlier.”
“Huh?” Matt stopped mixing, set the fork down in the bowl and lifted his shirt. “Do you think I look too skinny?”
Oh, fuck. Now he was going to worry about that. “You’re fine.” Though a little weight wouldn’t hurt him. “Is that something you really worry about or is it because of your job?” he couldn’t stop himself from asking before he picked up another potato and began peeling it. He didn’t see how mashed potatoes and fried chicken were that bad…or maybe he just didn’t give a shit about those things.
“A little of both, I guess. Where are your frying pans?”
“Middle cabinet under the island. And why both?”
“Modeling is my livelihood. If I don’t work, I don’t have money. If I don’t look the way they expect me to, I don’t work. They go hand in hand. Plus,” he shrugged, “and maybe this makes me a pretentious fuck, but…I guess it’s important to me to try and look good.”
“Pfft.” Oliver picked up the colander of potatoes and brought them to the sink to wash them. “I don’t think looking good is something you’ll ever have to worry about.”
“Okay, that’s enough of this conversation.” Matt had an edge to his voice that he hadn’t possessed before. Oliver didn’t want to sour the mood, but he also wanted to explore it more deeply.
“Is that really something you worry about? Outside of your job, I mean.”
“Yes, Dr. Hayes. I have dreams about it too. The last time I asked, my mirror told me I wasn’t the fairest of them all anymore.”
Oliver chuckled and accidentally dropped the colander into the sink. Matt was such an anomaly in some ways. Such a contradiction. He resented people focusing on his looks, but he did it himself. “Point taken.” Once the potatoes were rinsed, he dumped them into the boiling pot on the stove and made his way back to Matt. Before he could talk himself out of it, he leaned close and said, “I think your mirror is broken, so no poisoned apples, please.”
Without looking he knew Matt rolled his eyes. “My life is anything but a fairy tale.” He dipped his hand into the bowl of breadcrumbs and damned if he didn’t flick a small handful of them at Oliver. They landed half on his face and half in his hair.
“What the hell, Daniels?” Oliver reached for the bowl but Matt blocked him. He put his arms on either side of Matt, trying to fake left and then go right, but Matt didn’t fall for it. They were both laughing as he reached out and latched onto Oliver’s sides, and tried to move forward as if to use his weight to push Oliver away.…But Oliver didn’t budge. The only thing it accomplished was lining their bodies up against each other, making them fit together, mold into one another.
Oliver realized his hands weren’t on the counter anymore, they were on Matt’s arms and he somehow smelled like piano strings.
His cock started to lengthen and Matt’s fingers dug into his hips tighter and he really wanted his dick in Matt’s ass again. Or his mouth on Matt’s cock or his tongue in Matt’s mouth or hell, even his tongue in Matt’s ass.
“Oliver…” Matt whispered and damned if Oliver didn’t shiver.