Where You Least Expect It (6 page)

Matt felt refreshed for the first time all week. As many wet dreams as he’d had in his life — and he’d had plenty — they had never been that detailed.

Or about another guy.

He couldn’t get the image of Christian sucking him off out of his head. Every time he thought about it, he felt a corresponding twitch in his cock. By the end of the day, he was starting to get sore and frustrated.

Walking by the coffee shop toward his truck, he caught a brief glimpse of Christian laughing with one of his coworkers. It was enough to make him hard, forcing him to hurry to the truck before he embarrassed himself.

Stop thinking about it. It’s just a coincidence. It doesn’t mean anything. What was wrong with him that he was getting turned on by another guy? Matt forced the thoughts down, refusing to think about what it might mean for his sexuality and the image of himself he’d had for years.

Matt managed to ignore his cock until after dinner. Once his body realized there was nothing else to claim Matt’s attention, it started making demands, cock rising to tent the front of his pajama pants. He flipped channels for a bit, idly stroking himself before finding something more adult to watch. He hated the stereotypical image of the single guy sitting at home alone jerking off to porn, but he enjoyed it anyway. Porn may be fake, but it was better than picking up random women in bars.

He liked to watch from the beginning, letting the anticipation build. He was still hard and could feel the tightness in his balls as he rubbed the fabric of his flannel pants lightly across his inner thigh. When the actress took off her shirt, Matt moved his hand closer to his balls.

Matt found his gaze caught by the actor’s body. Matt slid his pants down and reached for the hand lotion stashed in the side table. He stroked himself slowly as he watched the actress’ hands slide over the man’s chest and shoulders, watched their tongues as they kissed.

He moved his free hand under his shirt and unconsciously mimicked the path that the actress’ hands were taking over pecs and nipples. Pinching his own nipple made him moan and slide farther down on the couch, legs spreading.

Matt watched as she went down on the actor, fascinated by the sight of his waxed groin area, wondered how smooth it was. Matt wanted to see him shoot, but he knew it was too soon.

The male actor was moaning and encouraging the woman as she sucked him off. The sounds — moaning, sighing, heavy breathing — always went straight to Matt’s cock.

The scene changed suddenly to show the woman on her back with the actor standing over her, thrusting his hard cock into her.

Matt felt himself getting closer. His hips rocked, pushing his shaft through his fist. He tightened his grip slightly and increased his pace, moaning as his orgasm tore through him.

As his breathing returned to normal and he refocused on his surroundings, the scene on the television had changed again. Matt watched a few more minutes as the actor changed positions several times. Once his own need had passed, however, Matt started to feel like too much of a voyeur and turned the movie off.

His sleep was dreamless that night.

The dreamlessness didn’t last. The nightmares returned the next night, the sex dreams involving Christian a few nights later. Sometimes, Matt was lucky enough to get almost an entire night’s sleep, but often he woke much earlier.

After almost two weeks, the lack of sleep was beginning to take its toll. He was able to stay focused enough that his work didn’t suffer, but he found himself snapping at Alison about things out of her control. It frustrated him that he took his moodiness out on his friend but he convinced himself that a good night’s sleep would go a long way toward fixing things. He was looking forward to relaxing during next week’s Thanksgiving break.

Matt’s cell phone rang as he was leaving work Friday; he wasn’t surprised to see Sam’s number and flipped the phone open.

“What?”

“Jesus, you’re cranky.” Sam sounded only mildly annoyed. “What the fuck’s your problem?”

“Nothing. Sorry.” Matt scrubbed a hand across his eyes and tried to shake off his bad mood. “What’s up?”

“What are you doing tonight?”

Fuck, Matt was too tired to deal with one of Sam’s parties. “I’m going home and watching a movie.”

“Come down to Riley’s.” Riley’s was their local pub, a place that had been around for ages and tended to attract a mix of young professionals and some of the older college crowd.

It was a better suggestion than a party, but Matt begged off anyway. “Not tonight, man. I’m too tired.” Matt waited for Sam’s usual good-natured protest.

Sam was silent for a moment. “Yeah, okay. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Matt closed the phone when Sam ended the call, surprised to be let off so easily. Maybe his bad attitude was finally taking its toll on their friendship. It was just one more thing Matt didn’t want to deal with right now.

Later that evening, Matt was loading his dishwasher when the door buzzer sounded. He knew it was Sam. Resigned to having to argue further, Matt clicked on the intercom.

“Yeah?”

“Hey, it’s me. Can I come up?” Sam’s voice echoed through the tinny speaker.

“Sure.” Matt buzzed him in and made sure the apartment door was unlocked.

Sam walked in a minute later. “Hey, man. I would have used my key, but I wanted to make sure it was cool to come up.”

Matt was going to argue, tell Sam he was too tired to be social, but shrugged instead. “Sure.”

Sam frowned but didn’t say anything. He pulled a six pack out of the bag he was carrying, took two bottles out, and put the rest in the fridge. He handed Matt an open bottle and walked into the living room.

“What are we watching?” Sam dropped down onto the couch and propped his feet up.

“I hadn’t decided yet.” Matt left his bottle on the coffee table and crouched down to rifle through his DVD collection. “Any preferences?”

Sam shrugged. “Dunno. Comedy? Action? Romantic Comedy?”

Matt flipped him off at the suggestion of romantic comedy. “You know the rule — no chick flicks. Comedy.”

They argued good naturedly for a bit before deciding to watch Caddyshack for the millionth time. They could both recite it verbatim, but that was part of the fun.

Once the movie was over and the six pack almost finished, Sam brought up the very subject Matt had been hoping to avoid. “So, tell me what’s going on.” The way Sam said it, Matt knew it wasn’t a casual question, but decided to dodge the question.

“I’ve just been busy at work. That project I’ve been working on with Alison is taking up a lot of time.” It wasn’t a lie by any means, just not the whole truth. He knew Sam meant well, but Matt wasn’t ready to talk; he was too conflicted over his reaction to Christian and all of the questions it was forcing Matt to ask. He’d never thought of himself as anything other than heterosexual; he’d never allowed himself the opportunity to consider an alternative.

“God damn it Matt, I’ve known you since you were, what? Fifteen years old? You’re having nightmares again, aren’t you?”

Matt’s first instinct was to deny it, but this was Sam, the one person who’d seen him through pretty much everything. But he sure as hell wasn’t going to mention the other dreams. “Yeah. I am. They started a couple of weeks ago. It’s not a big deal.”

Sam’s expression turned from angry to concerned. “Are you talking to anyone?”

Matt raised his eyebrow. “You mean other than you?”

Sam threw his hands up, obviously frustrated with Matt’s response. “Yes, other than me. You know, a professional?”

Of course, Matt knew what Sam meant and he also knew Sam was overreacting. He didn’t blame Sam; with so much misinformation and sensationalist Hollywood depictions of veterans, Matt was accustomed to having to clear up misconceptions even among those closest to him. “No. You know I went through all the assessments already. It’s a reaction to stress; it doesn’t mean I’m going to go all Rambo.”

“Yeah, I know. I also know that you had a shitty year when you first got back and I don’t want you to go through that again. What do you think caused them to come back?”

Matt shrugged. Admitting he was confused by his attraction to another man wasn’t an option.

Sam ran a hand through his hair. “Look, I, uh, I did some research.” He looked sheepish. “I’m worried about you.”

“Oh, hell, Sam. Tell me you’re not reading crazy blogs; you know half of those people don’t know what they’re talking about and the rest have an agenda. I’m not going to do anything dangerous or stupid. I didn’t last time, either, and that was worse. And I’ve been through the coaching on how to manage stress.”

“I know, Matty.” Sam took a drink of his beer. “Shit, it just worries me and I can’t do anything about it. And I know you hate talking about it, but you know trying to bury it just makes it worse.”

Matt grudgingly acknowledged that Sam had a point. “I’m not trying to bury it, and I’m not trying to be an ass, Sam. I’m dealing with it.”

Sam’s smile was genuine, if a bit resigned. “Okay. Look, you know you can call me if you need anything, right?”

“Yeah, Sammy, I know.” Matt couldn’t stay annoyed; he knew Sam was just worried about him.

“Okay. I’ll lay off. What are you doing for Thanksgiving?”

“Sleeping,” Matt answered. “And not working.”

“Mom’s having a thing. You can always come over for dinner.”

Matt was grateful for the offer, but he didn’t want to spend the day answering Sam’s family’s well-meaning questions. “No, man, I need the vacation. Next time, okay?”

“She’s going to nag,” Sam warned. “She hates the idea of you being alone on the holidays.”

“And I promise to be nice to her when she calls. Just bring me leftovers on Friday. And don’t eat all the stuffing.” Matt loved stuffing.

Sam laughed. “I can make no promises, dude.”

Sam called on Tuesday to try one final time to convince Matt to join him at his parents’ house on Thanksgiving. Matt begged off again but reminded Sam to bring leftovers.

Matt hadn’t been lying; he was fucking exhausted and planned to use the long weekend to catch up on his sleep. He was determined to just relax, watch movies, and nap. He was getting through work by drinking too much coffee and energy drinks.

Luck must have been with him; there were no last-minute fires, no database crashes, no life-or-death reports and he was able to leave work at a decent hour on Wednesday.

He was surprised to run into Alison on the way to the parking lot. “I thought you were leaving early?”

Alison made a face. “Don’t remind me. I still have three freaking pies to make for tomorrow but got stuck running reports that no one will ever look at but can’t wait for.”

Matt laughed. “Oh, I know all about that, trust me.”

Alison looked at him in mock sympathy. “Poor, abused IT guy.”

“Hey!” Matt feigned outrage. “Do you know how many hours I worked last week?”

She shook her head, reaching back to pull out the pins keeping her hair back. “I don’t want to know, because if it was fewer than I did, I’ll be pissed.”

“Gee, thanks, Al. Go bake your damn pies.”

She gave him a sideways look. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

“Get out of here!” They both laughed as they parted ways.

Matt stretched before getting into his truck and settling behind the wheel. Four days to do absolutely nothing! Matt was truly looking forward to this weekend.

***

He set his DVR to record the parade so he didn’t have to worry about getting up on time; being able to skip the boring parts was also a plus.

He slept late, dreamless — finally. Maybe all he needed to do was relax and take some time off.

He decided to make a quick trip to the store to pick up some deli turkey and cranberry sauce. Maybe he wasn’t having a full Thanksgiving dinner, but he could have a reasonable facsimile.

He threw on some clothes and grabbed his jacket; it wasn’t quite raining, but who knew what it would do by the time he got back.

Every time he thought about the weather, he thought about Christian, the dreams, and the last time they saw each other. Still not sure how to deal with his feelings, Matt had decided the best approach was to simply ignore them.

Fate, apparently, had ideas of its own.

Turning into the canned vegetable aisle, he stopped short. There was Christian, looking at canned cranberry sauce, as if Matt’s thoughts had conjured the other man.

Christian grabbed a can and stood up, eyes widening and face paling ever so slightly when he saw Matt.

They stood there staring at each other for what seemed like an eternity, but was probably only a matter of seconds.

“Hi,” Matt finally managed.

“Hi.” Christian smiled, looking nervous but hopeful at the same time.

Matt searched for something to say to break the tension. “So, uh, did you get stuck with the last-minute store run?”

“Huh?”

Matt motioned to the can Christian was holding.

“Oh, this.” Christian held it up and looked at it intently. “No. I just, well, I thought it would go well with my frozen dinner.”

Matt frowned. “Aren’t you having Thanksgiving with your parents?” Matt just assumed he was the only one spending the holiday without family, even though logically he knew that wasn’t true. It didn’t help to make him feel any less alone.

Christian looked awkward, standing there staring at a can of cranberry sauce, shuffling his feet and biting his lower lip.

“No. I’m, well, I couldn’t afford to go home and miss work, so I’m here by myself.” He looked up suddenly, eyes wide. “God, tell me that didn’t just sound as pathetic as I think it did. It’s no big deal, really. And I’m sure you have a thing to get to, so I won’t hold you up.”

Christian turned to leave, but Matt surprised himself by stopping him. Christian caused Matt to surprise himself a lot lately, Matt noted absently.

“I don’t have plans,” Matt stated.

“What? Oh, I’m… are you having a frozen turkey dinner, too?” That hopeful look Matt had become used to was back, along with some curiosity.

“No. Turkey sandwich, actually.” He held up his basket. “I was just picking up some cranberry sauce to go with it. Not that weird stuff shaped like the can, though.”