Chapter 137: Matt
He returned to the suite feeling relief that the sub was no longer there, but neither was Stephon. Matt picked up his favorite guitar, sank into the plush cushions of the couch, and began playing. He was no Krispin Righteous, the lead singer of their band, but he'd trained in classical music and tended to revert when troubling thoughts filled his brain. The hard rock band-bunnies would think he'd grown a second head if they heard the soft romantic melody of Brahms, which was never meant for guitar, though his talented fingers somehow made it work.
He didn't hear the door, but when his eyes opened Stephon stood, rooted to the spot, just inside the entryway. "Did something bad happen that I need to know about?"
Stephon knew Matt only played classical music when his thoughts troubled him. "No, nothing bad." He didn't expand the sentiment and he knew Stephon could tell his mood was off.
"You didn't stick around for a morning quickie," he chided.
"That's more your thing, not mine," Matt quipped.
Matt walked a few feet away before walking back over. "Yeah, but it might have put you in a better mood."
Matt's fingers ran through his hair. "My mood's fine," he said with a touch of irritation that wasn't far from the surface.
Stephon decided to change the subject. "Are we rehearsing today?"
The last thing I feel like doing which is strange. Music is my calming muse. "Our dictatorial leader says we are. It's early and I'd rather just get it over with."
"I'm with you, and Krispin deserves us pulling him from Angela's bed, the lecherous pig."
Matts shoulders raise and lower. "He's only been married six months; I think he's supposed to be a sexaholic at this stage."
Stephon walked closer to the couch. "I keep wondering if he chafes. I would think after five or six times a day, his cock would be a little sore."
Matt shook his head then rubbed his eyes. "You imagining the rawness of Krispin's junk, needs to be scrubbed from my memory."
Stephon's killer smile cocked slightly to the side. "Hey, I was thinking about your junk getting some last night. Cheryl Lee took special care of us both. She might be worth another play scene down the road."
"She might." He tried to keep his depressed mood to himself, but Stephon's hand circled his throat from behind the couch, applying firm pressure and his heartbeat accelerated.
"What's up, bro?" The warm breath of his friend whispered along the side of his face.
They weren't brothers by blood, but having each other's back in a hole in Afghanistan at the beginning of the second Gulf War made them closer than most siblings. Sharing women in m閚age one-nighters also gave Stephon the right to touch him this way. Matt's hand gripped Stephon's wrist and applied slight pressure. "Do you ever get tired of the endless women?" The strong hold on his throat loosened, but the hand stayed where it was.
"Tired, no. Bored... sometimes."
"Maybe that's it. I'm just bored." More than bored I just can't find the correct word.
"You want what Krispin and Angela have." It wasn't a question.
"Maybe." Yes, he didn't say while thinking hell yes even as he kept the true longing from his friend.
"Some days I want it too. But then others... I don't want anything changing. I'm also afraid there's no one out there that would accept our lifestyle and the feelings we have for each other."
"If we paid a woman enough, she could accept anything." And there was the real problem. Yes, I'd rather be rich but at the same time, it made finding a woman interested in more than money much harder.
"Isn't that the real problem? They want us for our money and notoriety." Stephon expressed the words Matt didn't say out load. "They accept our tag-team love so they can say they slept with Stephon Cross and Matt Mathews of Blood Rights and then they become celebrities for a short while. Do they really care if it's you or I, separate or together?" A touch of anger came into Stephon's voice, but his hand remained loose.
"You know it's Matt Mathews and Stephon Cross, right? The keyboard never gets billing over the guitar." The fingers completely released his neck, causing his own grip to slip away. A swat on the back of his head lightened the tone of the conversation even more.
"No one looks at your ugly mug. After Krispin, it's me all the way." Stephon walked around the couch, slipped off his shoes, and heavily plopped down on the couch, turning his body so his feet landed in Matt's lap.
Matt looked down at his friend's curling and straightening toes. "You have a death wish?"
"What, it's not my feet you find sexy?"
"No. It's only your ass while you pumped into what's her name last night."
"I see." His eyebrows went up and down comically not in the least sexy. "So you want my ass."
"I'd like to spank it, often."
"Using a whip yes, but there'll be blood if you even try a spanking."
"Hmm, what if our next sub thinks it's sexy to watch my hand land on your ass?"
"No putting ideas in her head or I'll return the favor. But my feet do need a little TLC right now."
Matt rose from the couch and the feet in question landed with a thump on the floor. "I'm sure you can find someone at this decadent hotel to give you a foot massage. That's crossing the line for me."
Stephon arched his eyebrows and lowered his voice. "I'd pay really well for you to satisfy my foot fetish."
"For five dollars I'll put my foot up your ass."
"Painful and drastically overpriced."
"You like the pain."
"Not in my ass."
They both laughed, and a short time later they left the suite to interrupt Krispin during his favorite past time.
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