Matt groaned, the sound vibrating through Oliver but then he said, “We can both be beautiful.”
There was doubt there, in the roughness of his voice. In the way the tone dropped an octave. Oliver recognized the sound. “You don’t really believe it, do you?” he asked. How could he not? How could Matt not see how gorgeous he was?
“Oh, fuck. Let’s not do this. I didn’t say that for you to turn this around to me.” He tried to move but Oliver kept ahold of him, tightening his grip. Matt didn’t fight him.
“I’m serious,” he said, before tilting Matt’s head up so he looked at him.
“You’re always trying to make other people feel good. My statement was supposed to be about you.”
“You’re always trying to deflect. You know I’m good at getting my way. I won’t stop until you give it to me.”
Matt’s brows pulled together, a little wrinkle forming on his forehead. “Isn’t that me?”
“Fuck, you’re right.” Oliver laughed because he knew Matt needed him to, but then he went quiet, and he knew Matt also understood he wouldn’t drop this.
“Christ, Ollie. I just came so hard my ears are ringing; do we have to do this right now?”
Pride surged through him at knowing he’d driven Matty so far out of his fucking mind. But still…
“I have to take advantage post-orgasm. It’s my only chance.”
Matt grabbed Oliver’s cock. “How about I get you hard again and suck you off instead?”
Damned if there wasn’t a part of him that really liked that idea, but the stronger part of him felt this was too important. “Tell me you know you’re fucking beautiful, Matty. I need to hear it.”
Matt sighed, flopped to his back and threw an arm over his eyes. “Of course I know I’m attractive. I see it when I look in the mirror. People tell me all the fucking time. You’re beautiful, Matt. Your skin…your cheekbones…on and fucking on. Be careful, Matt, you don’t want to lose what you have going for you.”
The last one made Oliver’s body go rigid. Made his ears ring but not from his orgasm the way Matt had said his did. “Who in the fuck said that to you?”
Matt sat up, his back against the headboard. “Don’t be naïve, Ollie. Nearly everyone has said those words to me. It’s part of my job. I have nothing without my looks and my body.”
Oliver’s vision went blurry. His body went hot. “Fuck whoever said that to you. You’re more than your job; let’s get that out of the way first. Modeling isn’t who you are. Second, you’re a whole hell of a lot more than what you look like. You’re smart. Loyal. Passionate. Kind.”
Matt shook his head, but Oliver kept going.
“You’re funny. You think of others. You make people feel good by being around them. You’re a better musician than I am a writer. You—”
“Then why couldn’t I make it?” Matt’s words came out sharp, a bite to them that stung Oliver’s heart. And then, more quietly, he repeated, “Why couldn’t I make it, Ollie?”
Oliver’s hands shook. His heart broke. He’d wondered, all these years he’d wondered about Matt and his music. “You listen to me.” When Matt didn’t look at him, Oliver grabbed him, pulled him over so he straddled Oliver and couldn’t look away. “What happened to you?”
“I woke up,” Matty said softly. “I fucking knew, knew that I was going to go to New York and all my dreams were going to come true. People would be begging for me. I was going to do it and I was going to do it on my own.”
That last part was for Oliver, but it didn’t hurt. It just made him respect Matt for wanting to make his own way.
“There’s not a big story if that’s what you’re looking for here. I was young, naïve. I guess I thought because I wanted it so fucking much, because I sacrificed for it, that it would happen. I was broke, working two, sometimes three jobs. I was a little fish in a big fucking ocean. I was still nothing special. I couldn’t get anyone to give me the time of day until I met the guy who got me my first modeling gig. Fuck music. You’re too pretty for that shit. Use what you have, he told me, so I did. Turns out he just wanted his dick in my ass and then I met Parker, and he was real. I used my face and it got me further than my talent ever could.” There was defiance in Matt’s voice, in the set of his body and the way he looked at Oliver, but he knew sadness lived underneath. Sadness that wanted to pull Matty under and hell, maybe it had.
Maybe Matt had been drowning for years and Oliver had never realized it.