17. Matteo

17

MATTEO

S crolling through his messages, Matteo reopened the message from Jared. He reread the text and rolled his eyes. Why couldn't people just use words when sending messages? What was with all this short form, emoji, shit, nonsensical letters that were supposed to form words… or sentences… or phrases… or… fuck, just let the aliens come take these kids and bring some sanity back to earth.

"Hey, Ares, what do you think this means?" Matteo took a screenshot and then sent a text to Ares, who was literally sitting six feet away from him at the kitchen table.

Ares's phone dinged, and he checked the message.

"What do you mean?" Ares asked, reading the message and looking up at him confused.

"Well, Jared wrote, ‘NBD, but I think Levi might have broken the karaoke machine.' What the fuck does NBD mean?" Matteo never felt so old in his life. It seemed like every day, the boys were using some new word or acronym that he had never even heard of. What the fuck was "woke," and when did this suddenly become a thing?

"No big deal," Ares replied without even looking up from his phone. He was scrolling through something and seemed to be distracted by what he was reading.

NBD… No big deal. What the fuck. Well… someone was a little smarty pants.

"And how about this one? ‘Don't open the message that Diesel sent if you're around any human beings. It's NSFW.'"

"Not safe for work," Ares mumbled once again, eyes still locked on his phone.

"Not safe for work?" Matteo whispered to himself. What the fuck does that mean?

Matteo scrolled to the message Diesel had sent just after two a.m. this morning.

"Woah!" Matteo shouted, turning his face away in shock.

"What? What is it?" Ares snapped, suddenly materializing above Matteo's shoulder.

Matteo turned the phone toward Ares and tried not to laugh at the confused look on his face.

"What am I looking at?" Ares tilted his head to the side, trying to put together the pieces he was seeing.

"Apparently, one of our dancers slipped on stage and ended up with his butthole in a customer's face. This is what happens when you leave a bunch of man-children to fend for themselves."

A boisterous laugh escaped Ares's lips. It was one of those guttural laughs that came from deep within.

"Judging by the gigantic smile on the old dude's face, I'm pretty sure he didn't mind tasting the boy's insides."

"You're such a pig," Matteo grumbled, slapping the man on his arm.

He quickly fired off a text to Diesel to see how the dancer was doing and asked if they comped the customer his drinks. Matteo would call the customer later in the day to make sure there weren't any issues and to apologize profusely for the accidental rim job.

A knock at the door caught Matteo's attention.

"You expecting someone?"

"Yeah, be back in a sec," Ares huffed, tossing his phone into his jeans and taking off down the hallway.

Two minutes later, Ares reappeared, holding two black garment bags.

"Here. Go shower and change. I'm taking you out." Ares passed Matteo one of the bags and tossed the second one over the kitchen chair.

"Wh-what?" Matteo had no idea what the man was up to but couldn't ignore the flurry of butterflies suddenly taking up residence within his gut. He liked surprises, especially when they were directed at him.

"Go! The car will be here in thirty minutes to pick us up," Ares shouted, giving Matteo a mischievous grin.

Jumping up from the couch a little faster than he intended, Matteo rushed past the man he loved to hate and disappeared into the bedroom.

Twenty minutes later, Matteo was showered, dressed, and slicking back his hair. He stared at himself in the mirror, double-checking that every hair in his perfectly manicured beard was neatly aligned.

"Damn, you look good. Tom Ford suits you," a husky voice noted from the open doorway.

Ares was staring at him like a lion would an injured gazelle.

Fuck, his dick was beginning to press against his zipper.

"Thanks. It's perfectly tailored and everything." Matteo was secretly impressed. The man had remembered his measurements.

Smirking, Ares nodded over his shoulder. "Come, the car's here."

Taking one last glance in the mirror, Matteo adjusted his vest, straightening out the expensive material. Given the sweet gesture, Matteo could at least make sure that he looked smoking hot for the man who was escorting him out tonight.

More butterflies played in his gut.

An hour and a half later, their car pulled up to an old-fashioned theatre located in the cultural heart of Barcelona.

Ares opened Matteo's car door and held it open while Matteo stepped out, gasping at the sight of the white and gray clay building. The building had to be at least one hundred and fifty years old, refurbished and fixed up, while still maintaining that authentic Spanish culture Matteo had come to love.

"A flamenco show?" Matteo asked, glancing at the poster announcing tonight's performance.

"Come." Ares smiled, taking Matteo's hand and pulling him up the stairs.

Wow, how times had changed. If this had been fifteen years ago, Ares would have been walking two steps ahead of Matteo, doing everything he could to avoid any public displays of affection. It appeared that time had softened Ares's closeted tendencies.

Inside the theatre, twenty elegantly set tables waited, covered in scarlet-red linens on a solid black backdrop. Tea lights provided just enough lighting for guests to enjoy the six-course meal, which consisted of some of the most mouthwatering dishes Matteo had ever tasted.

Cutting into his steak, Matteo glanced up at Ares, who was busy watching a man across the room scoop an oyster into his mouth. Ares shuddered as the man shoveled the shellfish into his mouth before swallowing it down with a brief jerk of his neck. It reminded Matteo of how a pelican might swallow a fish.

"So, when did you have time to set this whole thing up?" Matteo asked, gracefully placing the meat in his mouth and gently chewing it like a civilized human being.

Each of the tables was shared seating, but Matteo and Ares managed to snag a table of their own.

Turning his horrified face back to Matteo, Ares picked up his wine and took a sip.

"I called my Spanish guy and asked him to get us these tickets and order us some professionally tailored suits."

"And you just happened to remember my exact measurements?"

Ares gave Matteo a naughty grin. "I remember every detail of your body, sexy, including that tiny little birthmark just under your left testicle."

The woman sitting next to Ares coughed, no doubt choking on the oyster she had just placed in her mouth. Her cheeks flushed red as she tried to act like she hadn't just overheard details of Matteo's nether regions.

The lights around them dimmed as the dancers stepped out on stage. Matteo turned his chair so that he could get a better view of the dancers as they showed their guests what true flamenco dancing was.

The show was amazing. The colors, the outfits, the seductive moves between each of the dancers. How anyone could move their bodies in such a way was beyond Matteo's grasp.

Under the table, Matteo felt Ares slowly rub his leg against his. The gesture was sweet and reminded Matteo of the times they shared years ago before everything went to shit in a dumpster fire of anger and raw emotions.

Determined, Matteo picked up his wine and took another sip, trying his best to ignore the raging hard-on straining against his zipper.

Fuck, he wanted Ares to throw him down across the table and pound him like a tough piece of meat.

The sound of the castanets clicking in the woman's hands as she danced drew Matteo's attention. She spun around, dress twirling as she moved. Next to her, a man in tight black pants and a crisp white shirt partially opened in the front, danced around her, keeping in sync with the music that played. Flamenco dancing was all about passion and seduction and movement and losing yourself in the magic of the night.

Locking eyes with Ares, he felt himself get pulled into his orbit. Matteo's heart was betraying him once again, deciding to join forces with his cock and ignore the arrangement they had all agreed to fifteen years ago. The only one that still remained loyal to their arrangement was his brain. He knew the true danger of what was happening and the very real possibility that this would all end with him being crushed and destroyed.

Forcing himself to look away, Matteo took another sip of his wine and tried to lose himself in the magic of the flamenco.