being a parent! Antony is very well provided for. I know, I sign the fucking checks.”
Dove clicked the cell closed, breathing hard.
And Matthew burst out, “You selfish prick!”
“What did you say to me? How dare you listen to my phone call?” Dove stormed toward Matthew and—
—slipped and fell on his hot, muscled ass.
Matthew smirked, watching as the big man kept sliding and couldn’t regain his feet so that he hit the wet floor with a smack that was very satisfying, almost as if Matthew himself had delivered it.
And wasn’t that a thought?
He looked down at Dove, who was staring up at him with his mouth agape, his wide dark eyes fixed on Matthew’s face, his hair in his eyes, his suit all messed up.
Seeing him like that, Matthew’s body responded, but his disillusionment that Dove wasn’t anything like his fantasy man sharpened his arousal, so he took another dig, “Shouldn’t eat the donuts they bring round, huh?”
“What?” Now Dove was well and truly pissed. “You know what? You are fired!”
Matthew swallowed, hiding how humiliated he felt. Another job gone. What would his parole officer say? How would he keep his small, dingy apartment with only one part-time job at the new age shop?
But he couldn’t let this man see his worry. In prison, he’d tried so hard to learn how to conceal his emotions and hide himself, because showing any vulnerability was a bad idea. Still, a flash of what he was feeling must have been on his face, because Dove took a deep breath, eyes softening slightly.
But any kindness from this man, this beautiful, unattainable man, would rub like acid on Matthew’s pride, his wounds. He would never trust anyone again. He let his mop fall, clattering loudly against the black granite floor. “Go fuck yourself!”
* * *
Outside it was cold, the air driven by stinging rain, which was to be expected in December even in Los Angeles, but a stronger storm front had moved in off the Pacific, and with it had come lightning and wind.
Dove shook his keys out, cursing the work they were doing to bring up the codes for earthquakes in the underground garage, which meant he was going to get all wet before he climbed into his sleek little honey of a car.
As he paused, he saw the mouthy ex-janitor being escorted from the building, his belongings dropped at his feet by a smug security guard who closed and locked the glass door.
After a long moment, Matthew—from his name tag—bent and picked up his pathetic little collection of personal items. His eyes were down, but Dove was sure he’d seen a flash of resentful blue in his direction. The blond hair was already soaked, loose curls which made him look boyish... vulnerable.
And for a moment Dove felt regret, remembering the look in those tortured eyes. But then he also remembered how a total stranger had dared to criticize him for how he treated his son.
“‘Selfish prick!’ What the fuck do you know about it?” Dove whispered, still fuming at his ex-employee’s rudeness. He was doing what he could for Antony.
“Merry Christmas!” His ex-janitor smirked at seeing Dove also walking outside. He paused in folding his belongings, straightened, and opened his belt. Another second and he’d unzipped his fly, yanked down his tighty whiteys—
Eyes wide, Dove roared, “You will not piss on my—!”
As Dove sprinted toward Matthew to stop him from urinating against the pristine glass door of Dove’s office building, which represented the hard-won zenith of years of work, there was a tremendous flash of lightning, whiting out vision and striking a tiny silver hovering object forty feet above the two men in the sky above.
* * *
The lightning continued its crazy jagged path and hit Dove, who grabbed his chest, letting out a soft grunt as he toppled onto a half-naked, penis-in-fist, former janitor.
“Oh fuck!” Matthew cursed, arms full of his limp former boss, who outweighed him by a generous margin.
And
Dove clicked the cell closed, breathing hard.
And Matthew burst out, “You selfish prick!”
“What did you say to me? How dare you listen to my phone call?” Dove stormed toward Matthew and—
—slipped and fell on his hot, muscled ass.
Matthew smirked, watching as the big man kept sliding and couldn’t regain his feet so that he hit the wet floor with a smack that was very satisfying, almost as if Matthew himself had delivered it.
And wasn’t that a thought?
He looked down at Dove, who was staring up at him with his mouth agape, his wide dark eyes fixed on Matthew’s face, his hair in his eyes, his suit all messed up.
Seeing him like that, Matthew’s body responded, but his disillusionment that Dove wasn’t anything like his fantasy man sharpened his arousal, so he took another dig, “Shouldn’t eat the donuts they bring round, huh?”
“What?” Now Dove was well and truly pissed. “You know what? You are fired!”
Matthew swallowed, hiding how humiliated he felt. Another job gone. What would his parole officer say? How would he keep his small, dingy apartment with only one part-time job at the new age shop?
But he couldn’t let this man see his worry. In prison, he’d tried so hard to learn how to conceal his emotions and hide himself, because showing any vulnerability was a bad idea. Still, a flash of what he was feeling must have been on his face, because Dove took a deep breath, eyes softening slightly.
But any kindness from this man, this beautiful, unattainable man, would rub like acid on Matthew’s pride, his wounds. He would never trust anyone again. He let his mop fall, clattering loudly against the black granite floor. “Go fuck yourself!”
* * *
Outside it was cold, the air driven by stinging rain, which was to be expected in December even in Los Angeles, but a stronger storm front had moved in off the Pacific, and with it had come lightning and wind.
Dove shook his keys out, cursing the work they were doing to bring up the codes for earthquakes in the underground garage, which meant he was going to get all wet before he climbed into his sleek little honey of a car.
As he paused, he saw the mouthy ex-janitor being escorted from the building, his belongings dropped at his feet by a smug security guard who closed and locked the glass door.
After a long moment, Matthew—from his name tag—bent and picked up his pathetic little collection of personal items. His eyes were down, but Dove was sure he’d seen a flash of resentful blue in his direction. The blond hair was already soaked, loose curls which made him look boyish... vulnerable.
And for a moment Dove felt regret, remembering the look in those tortured eyes. But then he also remembered how a total stranger had dared to criticize him for how he treated his son.
“‘Selfish prick!’ What the fuck do you know about it?” Dove whispered, still fuming at his ex-employee’s rudeness. He was doing what he could for Antony.
“Merry Christmas!” His ex-janitor smirked at seeing Dove also walking outside. He paused in folding his belongings, straightened, and opened his belt. Another second and he’d unzipped his fly, yanked down his tighty whiteys—
Eyes wide, Dove roared, “You will not piss on my—!”
As Dove sprinted toward Matthew to stop him from urinating against the pristine glass door of Dove’s office building, which represented the hard-won zenith of years of work, there was a tremendous flash of lightning, whiting out vision and striking a tiny silver hovering object forty feet above the two men in the sky above.
* * *
The lightning continued its crazy jagged path and hit Dove, who grabbed his chest, letting out a soft grunt as he toppled onto a half-naked, penis-in-fist, former janitor.
“Oh fuck!” Matthew cursed, arms full of his limp former boss, who outweighed him by a generous margin.
And
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