Snowball in Hell, стр. 31
«How do you want me?» Nathan asked, and Matt caught his breath on an unsteady laugh.
«Let's do this,» Nathan said after a moment, and he sat up, getting on his hands and knees while Matt readied himself. Nathan waited for him, his body relaxed and beautiful as he watched Matt slip the condom on.
He got behind Nathan, the bed dipping beneath his knees, and his cock was huge as he positioned himself. He took himself in hand, and guided himself at the rosebud center of Nathan's ass, prepared for resistance and pain-his own and Nathan's. And there was a moment of resistance, and Nathan breathed, «Yes, please…. Matt….»
Matt pushed, felt that ring of muscle give, and then he was enveloped in dark heat-a black velvet kiss.
Nathan moaned. «Oh, Jesus, Mathew.» He sounded broken. Matt held very still, and Nathan gasped, «Don't stop. Please….»
Matt thrust once. Felt Nathan's body clench around him– and he began to understand why, once experienced, it might be hard to forget this, why it might even be worth the risk. Was it as sweet on the receiving end? He couldn't tell, Nathan was breathing unevenly, pushing back against him, making that little keening sound.
«Is this what you want?» he asked.
Nathan whispered, «I want you to fuck me, Mathew. I need you to.»
And Matt let go, beginning to move inside Nathan, slowly, then faster, lancing in and out, swift and slick, Nathan rocking back against him, begging him for more, urging him to fuck him harder, to take him, to make him feel it in his belly, his chest-naked, shocking, broken phrases that excited Matt more, allowing him to shake off his inhibitions, his fears. He thrust hard, and he enjoyed the roughness of it, the sweet slap of skin on skin, knees brushing knees, thighs against thighs.
He remembered the first time he'd watched Nathan, and he reached beneath his taut abdomen, finding Nathan's rigid cock-Nathan whimpered in a kind of relief-and Matt worked him while he pounded frantically against him.
Nathan came first, biting off a cry as hot sticky wetness filled Matt's hand-for a moment it was like he was bringing himself off, he felt Nathan's release as keenly as though it
were rippling through his own body-and then exquisite relief was surging through his own body….
He felt tears fill his eyes. He closed his lashes against them, but maybe Nathan heard something in his breathing. He said, troubled, «Are you sorry, Mathew? Do you regret it?»
Matt moved his head negatively against the muscled warmth of Nathan's back.
Nathan kept trying to reassure him. «It doesn't have to mean anything. Not to you. You can forget it, if you'd rather.»
Matt listened to Nathan's heartbeat, fast and light like a deer flashing through sunshine and shadow. «Listen, Nathan…»
Nathan was silent, but Matt could feel the immediate tension down his spine.
«I loved Rachel with all my heart. You're right, nothing changes that. But-I never wanted her the way I want you.»
Nathan slid out from under him, rolled over. His face was different, grave but sort of lit from within in a way that gave Matt a funny pain in his chest.
«Though I don't know what the hell we're going to do,» he admitted.
Nathan slipped an arm around him, lowered his head to Matt's chest. «Maybe the Japs will solve it for us. Maybe they'll drop a bomb on us.»
Matt raised his head. Nathan's eyes were closed.
«Don't,» he said.
«No? Sorry.»
«It should make a difference, Nathan.»
Nathan opened his eyes. «It makes all the difference in the world. I mean that.» His smile was self-mocking. «It's a long time since I've had anything to lose. I guess I'm scared.»
Matt bent his head and found Nathan's mouth. He tasted sweet and sleepy. «Me too,» he said. «But I don't regret it.»
Chapter Ten
When the alarm went off about an hour later, Matt jackknifed up, hair in his eyes, and Nathan sprang up beside him, pulse hammering in the base of his throat.
«Christ,» Mathew said thickly, raking a hand through his hair.
Nathan sat back, watching Mathew carefully. Dawn and all its rosy promises seemed like a lifetime ago. Matt was straightforward. Direct as a bullet, he wasn't going adapt well to any kind of subterfuge, and Nathan knew then that he wasn't doing him any favors by falling in love with him. Mathew had been a lot safer mourning the gentle ghost of his childhood sweetheart.
They rose and dressed, and neither had a lot to say.
«Did you believe Pearl Jarvis's story?» Mathew asked as they stood eating toast in the sunny kitchen. It seemed to Nathan that Matt kept one eye on the window over the sink all the time as though he thought someone might be watching them. Maybe Matt's neighbors were the interested kind.
«Didn't you?»
«I did.»
«But?»
And Mathew told him about the interview with Claire Arlen and Carl Winters, about Jonesy's carelessness-or forgetfulness-in asking some crucial questions, about the money Carl Winters had given his sister, and about the baby that changed everything-the baby that Pearl Jarvis hadn't
known about. That no one had known about until Sunday night a few hours before the ransom was paid.
It turned out that this was something he could actually do for Matt-just listen to him.
And Nathan listened without moving a muscle as all the pieces fell into place. And it occurred to him that there was one more thing he could do for Matt.
There was a black wreath on the elegant front doors of Benedict Arlen's mansion in Mandeville Canyon, and Nathan remembered that Phil Arlen had been buried that morning.
He was shown through to a formal drawing room. There was a portrait of a smooth-faced woman with two little boys over the fireplace.
The family was busy drowning their sorrows in dignified fashion. They were all there, all formally dressed in black: Claire sat by the fireplace, looking wan. Carl was examining the leather-lined bookshelves; Bob was pouring drinks with the air of a man fulfilling his manifest destiny. Veronica stood a little apart watching the others as though her season theater tickets were proving a bad investment-that was probably due to the fact that Benedict Arlen was holding center stage. He broke off what he was saying as Nathan was shown into the room.
«Mr. Doyle,» Benedict said, and the lack of pleasure in his voice was mirrored in the faces of the rest of the family.
«Nathan,» Bob said, uncomfortable and unhappy that Nathan apparently didn't know better than to crash a family funeral. «This isn't the time.»
«It's the only time left,» Nathan said. «Lt. Spain and the police will be here within the hour to make an arrest.»
There was general distress at this. Nathan let them work it out of their systems, and then Veronica said steadily, «Who do they plan on arresting?»
He said, «I'm not in their confidence. I can't guarantee that they'll arrest the right person. They might simply arrest the most obvious suspect.» He saw her gaze flick to Bob, who merely looked bewildered.
«And I suppose you know who the right person is?» Carl Winters said.
«I think so. Would you like to hear my theory?»
«No,» said Claire. «I think someone should throw you out.»
«We may as well hear it,» Veronica said.
«Yes,» Benedict Arlen said. «I want to hear what he has to say.»
Bob stared at his father, and then at Nathan. He seemed surprised to find a drink in his hand, and he brought it to his lips, tossing it off in one gulp.
Nathan said, «The police located Pearl Jarvis yesterday. She had an interesting story to tell.»
«I don't want to hear it,» said Claire. «Dad, please!»
«Hush, girlie,» Benedict Arlen said.
Nathan said slowly, «I guess you could say that Philip's murder was a crime of passion, but not in the ordinary sense. Plenty of people felt passionately about him, all right. Mostly they hated him, and mostly they had good reason.»