Snowball in Hell - lanyon Josh (читать книги без TXT) 📗

Nathan winced at the light, putting a protective hand up.

«You better let me take a look at you,» Matt said. «You might have a couple of cracked ribs. He could have ruptured your spleen or your kidneys.» He was getting angry again thinking of it. Nathan could have died there tonight. Died an ugly, pointless death in the underbrush of Pershing Square– and for what?

Nathan lowered his hand, frowning. He said slowly, «You must have followed me. I don't guess you went there for sex.»

«I followed you,» Matt agreed.

Nathan peered at Matt as though he was viewing him from the distance, as though he was having trouble making him out.

«Can I take a shower?» he asked, abruptly.

Unspeaking, Matt got him towels, showed him the shower. He poured himself a drink while he listened to the water raining down from the bathroom and the resounding silence from within.

Gradually the red glare faded from his brain, his heart slowed back into a normal rhythm. He felt depressed, anxious. Nathan was taking a long time in the shower, probably dreading facing Matt as much as Matt dreaded facing Nathan.

The door opened and Nathan came out, his hair wet, combed back. He had redressed in his mud-stained clothes.

And for the life of him Matt couldn't think of a word to say. He was suddenly, abjectly grateful that Nathan was alive, in

one piece. The intensity of his feelings overwhelmed him for a moment.

But his silence seemed to confirm something for Nathan whose face grew stiffer and more closed. «I appreciate what you did tonight, but I'm fine. I should be going.»

«Drink this,» Matt said, and pushed a whisky into his hand.

Nathan hesitated, then he drank. He seemed to avoid looking at Matt-looking everywhere but at Matt. He drained his glass, spotted Rachel's photograph on the piano, and picked it up, studying it.

«This is her? Rachel?»

Matt nodded. He felt protective of Rachel's picture, prepared for Nathan to say something cruel about her although Nathan had never shown any sign of cruelty. He looked up from Rachel's smile and said, «She looks like she laughed a lot.»

Matt's eyes stung. He said, «Yeah. We laughed a lot.» He took the photo from Nathan,-careful not to look like he didn't trust Nathan with it-studying it. Rachel's photographed face-more glamorous than she'd ever looked in real life– smiled back at him, her eyes shining with love and trust. He looked at Nathan, who was watching him.

He tried to imagine what Rachel would make of this, what she would make of Nathan. Rachel was kind and intuitive; he thought she would have been frightened for Nathan too-and frightened for Matt.

Nathan put his whisky glass down, walking around Matt's living room, as though he were too restless to sit-or

expected to be invited to leave shortly. He didn't look at Matt. Matt could have not been there at all.

Matt watched him, telling himself to tread softly, but the words came out harshly anyway. «You know you could be arrested. You keep on the way you're going you will be.»

Nathan had paused at the window staring through yellow frilled curtains at the garden fenced in white pickets. He nodded, not seeming to notice Matt's aggressive stance.

«If you're not killed first.»

At the frustration in Matt's voice, he looked over.

«I know.»

«Then why? Why are you taking such a chance? You're not stupid. Why are you risking … everything?»

Nathan's face changed. Came back to life. «Because I'm not like you! I can't live my life like a goddamn priest. I need … something even if I can't have someone.» He began to cry. It was painful to watch, painful to hear, Nathan fighting it every step of the way, and sobs tearing out of his chest anyway.

«Don't,» Matt said. He pulled Nathan into his arms, roughly, overcoming his resistance, holding him fiercely. He could feel sobs wracking the thin, hard body, and he kissed his neck, his ear, his hair, any part of him he could find-a tear-streaked cheek, the corner of a wet eye, his trembling mouth. «Don't, Nathan. I love you. Don't cry.»

He was shocked to hear his own words, but hearing them he knew them for the truth. He loved Nathan. It didn't make sense, but it was true. From the first moment he'd laid eyes on him.

All the fight went out of Nathan. He went still, then he shook his head, wiped his face on Matt's shoulder, tried to pull away. «No. Don't.» He made another attempt to mop his face on his arm. «Don't.» He sounded a little calmer.

«It's the truth. I do love you. I can't … bear this. That's God's truth.»

«I can't bear it either,» Nathan said tiredly. «Let's forget it.»

He put Nathan into his bed and lay down with him, wrapping his arms around him and pressing his face against the back of Nathan's head, feeling the softness of his hair against his face. It smelled sweet, like summer, like grass, like Nathan.

Nathan lay unmoving, waiting for something-for Matt to fall asleep perhaps-but then he began to relax … muscle by muscle, nerve by nerve, losing the battle-whatever battle this was-sliding without a word into a deep exhausted sleep.

Matt held him, cradled him, and tried to think what the hell they were going to do.

He woke to the feeling of Nathan's taut ass pressing back against his groin. His cock stirred and filled, and he opened his eyes. The room was hushed and hazy with the dawn's early light, Nathan's skin was smooth and brown, the nape of his neck looked vulnerable and boyish, the glint of silver chain against his skin, and the pale hair. Nathan pushed back against him, and Matt's dick slid along the crevice between his firm buttocks. «You can't want this … after last night.»

«I need it. Need it more than ever now-and I always need it.» He added, not in apology exactly, but helplessly, «It makes me feel connected. It makes me feel … alive.»

«And it doesn't matter who or how?»

Nathan's head turned, he heaved himself, facing Matt. «It matters. Of course it does. I want it to be with someone I love. With you, Mathew. But if I can't have that, I still have to have it.» He met Matt's eyes. «It's a sickness, I know. I wish I could be strong like you and just not need it, but I do.» He turned back on his side and pushed himself against Matt's rigid cock, humping back in delicate invitation, weak and wanton. «Please, Mathew,» he whispered. «Please.»

…someone I love. With you, Mathew…

Matt said, «I-haven't done this before.»

And Nathan froze, stopped those tiny urgent movements that were making Matt crazy, rolled over and sat up.

In other circumstances Matt might have laughed at his wide-eyed expression. «No? But I thought…»

«Not this.»

«But you want to?»

Matt didn't have to think-he'd already had too much time to think.

He nodded, and surprised relief flooded Nathan's face. «Yeah? Sure?»

«I'm sure already,» Matt growled.

Nathan grinned. «I was afraid-« He bit off the rest of it. «Do you have some kind of lotion? Or oil?»

«Petroleum jelly in the bathroom. Lie still,» Matt said. He rose, went into the bathroom, and found the jar. Carrying it back into the bedroom, he swallowed hard at the sight of Nathan lying on his belly, brown and relaxed in the sheets.

Matt sat down on the bed, opened the nightstand drawer and looked at the little wooden box containing his condoms.

Nathan turned his head on his arms and watched him. «It feels good,» he said. «You'll see.»

Matt nodded.

«You're not betraying anyone. It won't … take anything away from her.»

Matt smiled faintly. «I know. Now you're thinking too much about it.» He unscrewed the lid of the petroleum jelly, handing it to Nathan's reaching hand, watching-unable not to watch-as Nathan scooped a glob of glistening jelly and reached behind himself. Nathan closed his eyes as though even this was somehow pleasurable, and Matt reached for the box of condoms.