Page 4 of The Cartographer

‡

The lights inthe house are still blazing when I get home. Matthew’s awake, even though he has my permission to go to bed. I hope he hasn’t been pacing anxiously. He does that sometimes, despite my efforts to get him to stop. Not my best efforts, mind you, or he would’ve stopped, but still.

I find him at his desk, poring over spreadsheets, god love him. The only person I know who works harder than Matthew is India. My exquisite little s-types, so desperate to please. Fondness sits like a hot meal in my stomach, and I smile as Matthew scrubs a hand over the back of his neck.

He’s tired. Probably sore from being in front of his computer all day. Maybe frustrated. I can do something about all of that.

I close the distance between us, and before he can turn around, I grip his neck and force his head down to the desk. He turns his cheek and reflexively clasps his hands at the small of his back. Stroking my thumb along that sensitive spot behind his ear, I take a great deal of pride in how soft he’s gone, how relaxed he is as soon as he knows I’m here. It’s fun to turn him into a bowl of Matthew jelly.

Easing his worries with a practiced touch, I study his face—the way his dark lashes fan across his cheek, how his hair could use a cut. He’s been putting it off because I’ve needed him more than usual in the past few weeks, and I need to stop. He needs to take care of himself, and he won’t if he thinks he needs to take care of me.

“Welcome home, sir.”

“It’s good to be back. Everything is in order?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I should be around for the next several weeks. I’m sorry all of this fell on you. You should take some time if you’d like it.”

I expect a hurried no, because Matthew enjoys service. Working is…not precisely like working for him. I don’t get one.

“Sir, I…”

Interesting. Not stopping the soothing motion because he’s re-tensed under my touch, I wait. And wait. Nothing comes, so I give him the barest nudge. “Yes, Matthew?”

“We can talk about it tomorrow. You must be tired from your trip.”

I am, but I’m also not crushed under the weight of other peoples’ anguish and heartbreak anymore, so altogether, home is a better place to be. Plus, my flirtation at the bar has added some levity to my day.

“It’s not going to matter whether you tell me today or tomorrow. What’s going on?”

He releases his hands from behind his back and lays them on the desk alongside his head. I’ve loved those long, elegant fingers since the day I met Matthew; coveted them, wished for them to touch me. They have, nearly every day for the past ten years. I let him up with a last stroke, and he looks in my eyes, his expression tight.

“You know I’ve been seeing Peter.”

“Of course.” Matthew and I have never been exclusive, and I’m well aware of his other partners. What had been a multitude of other partners until recently. One by one, they’d fallen away until it was me and Peter.

Peter, that bear of a man. He’s fond of my Matthew, likes to mark that light brown skin and beat him until he cries. I don’t blame him. Matthew suffers quite beautifully. I’ve noticed, too, how Peter praises him in quiet words, rests his enormous feet gently on Matthew’s back, and waits until Matthew can fetch something for him instead of asking another eager sub. Yes, I’ve seen the way Peter looks at Matthew when neither of them think anyone else is watching. Matthew especially should know better. I’m always watching.

“He, well, I…”

“Are you afraid of me, Matthew?” I’d nearly called himdarling boyas I do sometimes, which he’s always liked, but I’m not a stupid man. If I hadn’t been so distracted for the past several weeks with the business of dying, I would’ve expected this before now. However, since it’s become abundantly clear what this is about, I’ll behave accordingly.

“No, sir. Never.”

Pride pools at the back of my skull. No, Matthew’s never been afraid of me. Very few people have ever been truly afraid of me. If they have been, it’s because they ought to be. I like to think I wield my power responsibly. Matthew has nothing to fear. He’s good, honest, and loyal, and he’s been rewarded fittingly.

“So tell me.”

Matthew purses his full lips, and I regret momentarily not having that mouth wrapped around my cock one last time. Matthew gives one of the world’s best blowjobs.

“Peter. He’s asked to collar me.”

Yes. Another chess piece taken off my board, though I hadn’t been trying to move this one. I’ve been entirely content with Matthew as he’s been for the past decade, and he’s been the same. Until now. “That’s wonderful.”

“It is.” Matthew’s jaw tightens before he swallows, and his fingers knit together in his lap. My sweet, sweet boy. This is breaking his lovely little heart. “Except he’s asked me—”

“To not see anyone else?”

---