Page 42 of The Chameleon

Deciding to play nice, Matteo cooked them both dinner and even decided to allow Ares to eat with him at the kitchen table.

What was that saying?Never feed a dog from the table. They will never leave you alone after that?

He knew he shouldn’t be nice and that he was only playing with fire, but still, something inside him was pushing him forward.

The cabin was rustic and not what people would have expected Matteo to purchase. It was a modest two-bedroom lodge with a fireplace in the living room and a decent-sized kitchen. Just off to the side of the living room sat an old wooden table that he used to eat meals. Matteo had one of the local tradesmen reinforce the legs and refurbish the wood. It wasn’t the most modern of pieces, but it fit the rustic look of the cabin perfectly, in Matteo’s opinion.

Reaching across the table, Matteo poured them both some wine, then sat down across from Ares.

“So, what ended up happening with that guy’s older brother? You know, the one who shot me?” Ares asked, cutting into his steak and shoving a large chunk of meat into his mouth. The man had no class. He was all rough edges and didn’t give a damn.

Matteo felt his dick twitch.

Fuck, he hated that the man’s roughness still turned him on.

“He’s currently enjoying his stay in my dungeon.”

Ares’s fork stopped just below his mouth as he stared, frozen at Matteo.

“Your… what?”

“Dungeon. It’s where I like to keep all the people who piss me off and betray me,” Matteo said, the right side of his lip curving upward slightly. He was trying his hardest not to laugh.

Grinning, Ares stabbed at his meat as if what Matteo had just said was normal, everyday dinner conversation.

“I knew that dark side of you would eventually come out.” Ares resumed chowing down on his meat, ignoring the droplets of juice dripping down the side of his mouth.

Fuck, the guy was a pig.

Matteo’s dick got even harder.

“And your bullet hole? How is that healing up?” Matteo asked, trying to distract himself from the dirty thoughts currently running around inside his head.

“Humm, it’s good. Had a good nurse. A little on the feisty side, but once he stopped trying to kill me, the wound healed right up.”

“Not sure what you’re talking about.” Lifting his glass, he diverted his eyes as he took a sip of his wine. He was never going to admit to trying to do any such things.

Across from him, the sloppy pig let out a snort. “Sure you don’t.”

While Matteo was playing nurse to Ares, following his bullet to the stomach, he may have contemplated using rat poison instead of sugar in the man’s tea. Jared caught him while he was staring at the picture of the dead rodent on the box, reminding him that pretty boys didn’t fare well in prison.

So, against his better judgment, Matteo pulled the spare sugar from the pantry and decided to serve Ares some regular, boring tea instead.

After dinner, Ares cleared the table while Matteo washed the dishes.

In the living room, Matteo had some classical music playing, hoping that the tempo might help to calm to multitude of emotions turning over inside his head.

There were times during dinner when Matteo couldn’t help but think about all those lazy Sunday mornings when the two of them would lay tangled in each other’s arms, the smell of sex thick in the air while cum slowly dried to the sides of their thighs. Fingers intertwined, they would lay there, discussing their future together, the places they wanted to see, the things they wanted to accomplish.

Then darkness would roll in, and Matteo was reminded of the day when his hope in love died and the ensuing hurricane that followed. It was in those memories, in those moments, that Matteo wanted to turn to Ares and punch him in the throat.

“Here’s the last one,” Ares said, sliding a dish into the soapy water of the sink.

“Why are you here?” Matteo asked, hands holding a dish just below the surface of the water. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer.

Ares stood there in silence.

“I think you know the reason why.”

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