Single Player (5 page)

Silas shook his head. “They don't make me work. I like going in. I hate feeling like I'm getting behind on a project, especially this one. No one is working on it at all during the weekend, and every day that it sits is another day before it'll be ready.” He looked earnestly at Matthew, then turned away and shook his head, his earnestness fading. “Never mind. I don't think someone like you could understand.”

Matthew felt himself bristle. “What do you mean, ‘someone like me'?”

Silas shrugged and took another sip of coffee. “Well, you're a game designer.” He paused as if that was enough information to answer the question. When Matthew raised an eyebrow, he went on. “You work on projects where it doesn't really matter when they're complete.”

“I'm sorry?” Matthew raised both eyebrows now, his hackles definitely up.

“No, no.” Silas waved his free hand. “I'm sure you have deadlines and all that. Business expectations. But your overall work, it's not going to really change someone's life. This project that we're working on is a next step in affordable neural interface prosthetics that will allow people to control their artificial limbs with their minds, just by thinking about it. That's life altering. I want it done as soon as I can so I can change these people's lives. No one's sitting at home unable to function because Mario hasn't found the princess in the castle, or whatever.” He sipped his coffee again.

Matthew forced himself to remain silent, because the first words out of his mouth were going to be inappropriate for their public setting. He seldom got angry like this. How dare this total stranger come along and insult his job like it didn't matter at all? Like
he
didn't matter at all? Sure, it wasn't neural interface prosthetics, or whatever, but it wasn't like everyone had to be a fucking biomedical engineer. He counted to ten, then said evenly, “I suppose you aren't much of a gamer.”

Silas laughed. “No, I'm not. You assumed right. It seems fun and all. Lots of my coworkers play games. I just can't justify wasting all that time when I could be doing something meaningful.”

Matthew pressed his teeth together so hard that he could feel his jaw start to throb. He wanted to punch the guy. On some level, he realized that was an overreaction, especially since from his body language, Silas clearly had no idea he was being offensive. He'd met guys who disparaged his profession, but seldom with this kind of casual attitude. “You know,” he said after a minute, “I like what I do.”

Silas nodded. “I'll bet you do. It's probably a lot of fun.”

“It's a lot of work, that's what it is.” Matthew could hear the anger in his voice and tried to tone it down. “I may work on games, but I'm not just sitting there playing them all the time. Games matter to people. They matter to me.” Despite his attempt to remain calm, his volume had ratcheted up during that last line.

Silas's smile faded after a moment. “You're upset.” He flushed. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I didn't mean to say your job wasn't a real job or anything. Of course it's a real job. I'm sure you're very successful. I just . . . oh, darn it.” He looked off to the side.

Darn it? Really? The guy didn't even swear? Matthew could not believe the person sitting in front of him was the same guy whom he'd pressed against the wall of the coatroom last night. The hickeys on his neck seemed completely incongruous with everything else about who he was.

Silas tried again. “I didn't mean to be dismissive. I sometimes . . . I'm not always good at reading social cues. It's an . . . issue of mine.” Matthew nodded, feeling his anger abate slightly. The guy had some kind of social foot-in-mouth disorder; he could understand that. Silas continued talking, looking eager to explain. “I just can't bear to stop working at my job because I feel like the time I take off is time someone else doesn't have. If I were to do nothing for a weekend, then the project is going to get finished two days later than if I worked through that weekend. And that means that someone who is depending on my work to walk again, or have a working cornea or maybe even a heart valve, has to wait. Does that make sense?”

It did make sense, actually. From that perspective, Silas wasn't being as much of an ass as Matthew had thought. “I get it. But you have to rest sometime.”

Silas gave a small cough of laughter. “You'd think so. I don't sleep very well. That's part of why I drink so much coffee.” He lifted the cup an inch for emphasis. “I'm a bit of an insomniac. I can't seem to get my mind to shut off at night.”

“That must be awful. Sleep is one of my favorite things.” Matthew couldn't stay mad. The guy clearly had some kind of problem with social interactions, was obsessed with his job, and didn't sleep much. No wonder he was a bit of an asshole. “Maybe you should give up the coffee.”

Silas pulled the cup in closer to his chest. “You're kidding, right? I would be unable to function.”

“How much coffee do you drink?”

Silas looked up and to the side, lips moving as he counted silently. “Six or seven cups. I don't know. It depends on the day.”

“Dude. You have to ease up on that.” Matthew shook his head. “No wonder you can't sleep. That's almost a full pot of coffee. Your blood is probably straight caffeine.”

“I know, I know. I've tried.” Silas sighed. “You're not telling me anything I don't know. But if I give up coffee, there's going to be an adjustment period of a couple of weeks as I wean myself off the caffeine, and that doesn't work for my schedule.” He held up a hand as Matthew went to speak again. “I know, you're only trying to help, but this works for me.”

Matthew shrugged. He didn't even know why he was so invested anyway. He barely knew the guy. “Okay, fair enough. So after this, what? You're going to go work for a few hours, and then do the same thing tomorrow?”

Silas pursed his lips in thought. “Maybe. I try not to work every Sunday. It's a good day to catch up on the latest academic journals and my podcasts, and sometimes I do some reading.”

“And does it work? Do you relax?”

“I suppose.” Silas tipped his head back and forth in a “maybe, maybe not” gesture.

Something occurred to Matthew. “So did you sleep last night?”

“Yes, actually.” Silas nodded, brightening. “I slept right through the entire morning, past eleven. I haven't done that since college. Of course, staying up until all hours and drinking, especially when not accustomed to it, would probably wipe anyone out.”

Not to mention some filthy sex against the wall, but he refrained from bringing that up in case Silas was feeling shy about it. “Of course.” Matthew looked at the man across from him with a mixture of pity and intrigue. What a life he must lead, where work was so stressful that he couldn't even take a day off without feeling like he was letting someone down. His parents were probably the neurotic type, too. The guy was likely going to have some kind of breakdown at some point, especially if he kept drinking coffee and not sleeping. And yet he was rather fun, too, in the uptight sort of way. He was just waiting to be shaken up, and Matthew wanted to do the shaking. “You know,” Matthew said after a minute, “you should consider taking up gaming. It might help you relax.”

Silas finished his coffee and set the mug aside, smiling. “That's sweet of you to say, but I just can't afford that kind of time expenditure for something that's yielding no return.”

Matthew shrugged. “All right, suit yourself.” He knew when to quit; he
also
wasn't going to expend too much effort on a venture that was also yielding no return. Just in case Silas didn't know, though, he added, “I had a good time last night, by the way.”

Silas's smile turned shy. “Me too.” He met Matthew's eyes again with that intense hazel stare, and Matthew remembered the way his eyes had slammed shut in orgasm, head thrown back and neck muscles straining. It wasn't fair for someone so hot to be so uptight. Silas broke the gaze first, taking out his phone to look at the time. “I should go. Thanks for getting my phone back to me. And for charging it.”

“Yeah, I put my number in there, too.” Matthew knew it was forward, but he'd weighed the pros and cons and decided that a chance at another night like last night was worth being up front.

“Oh.” Silas looked at the phone screen as if deciding whether or not to check right then, but slipped the phone back into his pocket instead. “Thank you. I'll . . . yeah. Thanks.” He slid out of the booth, gave Matthew an awkward wave, and set his cup in the dish tray by the door on his way out.

Matthew watched him go, just as he'd watched him go last night. There was something about that guy. But he was wrapped up in his own issues, and he had such a fundamental lack of respect for Matthew's profession, there was no way they were compatible outside the bedroom.

Still, by the time he got his mind off Silas enough to drain the last of his coffee before heading out, the liquid had gone cold.

Silas's “couple of hours”
of work easily turned into the rest of the day, and by the time he picked up food and got home, it was late. Really late. He felt the jittery sense of unease that always came from working late and then coming home to an empty house. Even with the television on in the background, tuned to a show he neither watched nor cared about, he felt the acute isolation that normally didn't bother him. Tonight he longed for company. As he ate the pizza he'd picked up from the small take-out restaurant around the corner, he considered his earlier conversation with Matthew. He really hadn't meant to offend Matthew and hoped there were no hard feelings, but still, he stood by what he said. He didn't expect everyone to understand his work ethic.

Matthew, though, was clearly intelligent. He spoke like an educated person, and the conversation between them had been engaging rather than tedious. Silas often found that conversations with most people were tedious. Small talk was a waste of time, but fortunately, he hadn't had to engage very much in that arena today. Matthew cut right to the crux of an argument and said what he was thinking. That was a rare quality in people. A man like Matthew should not be wasting his life away in a job that had no purpose. He was capable of more than designing video games and part-time bartending. Silas could picture Matthew in any number of careers that better utilized his skills. Perhaps even something that put him in contact with people; although Silas hated dealing with the public, Matthew was probably quite good at it. When they were talking, Matthew made him feel like the only person in the world.

Not to mention, of course, the way he occasionally looked at Silas like he had for the first time at Gigi's, when he'd leaned on the bar and fastened him with a lascivious glare that promised everything. Just thinking about that look sent heat trickling down Silas's spine. The look spoke of carnal interest and primitive desire. It was the look that had led to a passionate tryst in the coatroom of the club. He'd caught that look from Matthew once or twice while they were having coffee today, even after he'd clearly upset Matthew by speaking without thinking about how it sounded. As Silas cleaned up the table from his lonely late-night meal, he imagined Matthew there, getting up from the table and following him to the sink, boxing him in with his hands on the counter on each side of Silas's hips. Lowering his lips to the sensitive spot on Silas's neck . . .

Silas shook off the mental image as he poured a glass of water from the pitcher in the fridge, but as he drank it, he thought of the way Matthew had pushed his head back in this exact way to sink his teeth into the soft, tender skin under his jaw. He shivered. This was not how he was supposed to be spending his evening. These kinds of thoughts were not productive.

But oh, his body was interested, his cock stirring at the memory of Matthew's body pressed against his. At first he tried to will away the arousal by distracting himself. He took his time wiping the table down with a damp cloth, putting his dishes in the dishwasher, focusing on the mundane tasks of keeping his house presentable. When he'd finished, though, Matthew still loomed large in his mind, a ghost that seemed to fill every room of the house even though he'd never been here.

All right, then. If he couldn't distract himself, he could at least take care of the physical side of these urges so he could move on. He folded down the sheets and comforter of his bed, unfastened his belt and jeans, and pushed them and his underwear down to his knees as he lay down in the center of the bed.

Silas had never considered masturbation a leisurely activity as much as a necessary evil. To be fair, he didn't dislike it. The results were pleasurable, even if the task was a bit undignified. Not to mention, he tended to sleep better afterward. Next to his fling with Matthew, though, Silas now realized that his solitary orgasms weren't even in the same league. He honestly hadn't known it was possible to come so hard. Thinking back on last night, which already felt like a week ago, he closed his hand around his cock and began to stroke. The actions were the same as always, but remembering Matthew's touch, the pleasure was already more intense. He closed his eyes to better focus on the sensations. Matthew's hands were broader than Silas's, his fingers longer, and Silas tried to remember exactly the way he'd squeezed and tugged to drive him steadily to the edge. This felt too fast. His body was racing to orgasm at an improbable speed, his muscles tensing, and for the first time, he found himself slowing down to savor the pleasure rather than rushing to completion. Patience was not one of his gifts, least of all here, but Matthew would be the type to take his time, he could tell. They'd been rushed last night, their circumstances and fear of getting caught driving them both to desperation. If they'd had more time, their escapade would have been much longer. Maybe there were more levels of intensity that he had yet to experience. If so, he wasn't sure he could handle it.

A little twist at the head, right there, had him nearing completion once more. His body felt tight and hot. He was used to the physical sensations leading to climax, but imagining Matthew there taking him in hand, he felt differently. Everything felt stronger and more focused. He was having trouble thinking, his mind going blank except for pleasure and need. So much need, dear God, so much need. What would Matthew do to him if given the chance? Silas's other hand drifted up under his shirt, up to the marks along his collarbone and neck that were still sore to the touch, and he pressed deliberately on them to feel that sharp pain once more. He felt the contact shoot straight to his dick. A few more quick, tight tugs and he was coming, pleasure washing over him and entirely emptying his mind.

Wow. Silas panted into the stillness when he finished, exhausted and spent. His orgasms weren't usually like that. He felt shaky and light-headed, much as he had felt last night. He got up on wobbly knees to clean himself up and get into nighttime clothes. Traces of postorgasm sleepiness began fogging his brain. Maybe he was wrong to fantasize about Matthew. Maybe this was crossing some line. If he wanted, he could probably get together with the man again. He'd put his phone number in Silas's phone, after all.

Silas opened the contacts list and scrolled down, which he had refrained from doing until now. There he was: Matthew Abrams, with a phone number and email listed. He must know that Silas was an email kind of guy. He stared at the email address for a minute or two. It was plain, just his full name at Gmail, the address speaking of professionalism. Silas could email, of course, but what would it accomplish? Another distraction when he didn't need distractions.

Setting the phone on his nightstand to charge, Silas climbed into bed and stared up at the ceiling. Maybe sleep would come easily tonight.