When I woke up, Matt's bed was empty. I found them in the kitchen, cooking up enough food for an army. Vincent and I both loved breakfast and frequently made a big one on Sunday morning. He came to me as I walked into the room, folded me up in a warm hug, and then kissed me soundly with Matt watching from the corner of his eye.
I pulled back and smiled at him. "Well! Good morning, stud." I looked over Vincent's shoulder; Matt had a small smile on his face. "Morning, Matt. Feelin' better this morning?"
His words were hesitant, but sincere. "Morning . . . Sean. Yeah, I am."
Vincent let go of me to set the table. I watched his butt as he walked away and felt my bitchy mood evaporate.
We sat down to French toast, scrambled eggs, hash browns, bacon, sausage, and orange juice. I hadn't been around teenagers in a while and I was astounded at the amount of food Matt put away. I made a mental note to tell Maria to double the grocery list as I watched him start on a third plateful. He was a little more talkative this morning, although I didn't think anyone would ever accuse him of being a chatterbox.
He had on what looked like yesterday's clothes and if that old paper bag was all he had, we needed to go shopping before we did much of anything else.
"I'm heading for the mall this morning. I need some t shirts," I announced.
Vincent glanced up with an incredulous look on his face. The second drawer of our tall dresser contained enough t-shirts to get me through the next year, but I needed some reason to get Matt to the stores, so I thumped Vincent in the shin with my bare foot and smiled hard at him.
"Me, too," he managed, fairly unconvincingly I thought, but Matt was engrossed in finishing off the bacon and didn't notice.
The mall was quiet on a Sunday morning and it didn't take us long to load Matt up with jeans, shirts, a jacket, a few pair of shoes, a swimsuit, lots of socks and underwear. I figured he was coming to the final GP with us, so we went by my tailor and got him measured for a suit, a few pair of slacks, and a sport coat. He was a little overwhelmed by all that, but livened up when we stopped for lunch. I was barely over breakfast but he wolfed down a double burger, a small mountain of fries, two large drinks, and most of my onion rings. I figured at this rate, he'd be up to normal weight in a week.
Matt needed a decent haircut in the worst way so I decided to swing by my folks' place, calling first to make sure they were home.
Over the years, my parents had come to know Vincent well. They'd eaten at his restaurant a few times for a few special occasions and we'd visited them frequently at their place. They knew that Vincent I were now a couple and they were happy about that, but we hadn't burdened them with the `Ray situation'.
Although I'd explained on the phone that things had changed, Mom was a bit overwhelmed with the sight of `the new' Vincent with his shorn head and bruised eye.
I briefly explained the situation, saying only that we had run into a bit of a bad crowd and as a result, we got a great bonus in Matt.
I smiled at Matt and then at Mom. "Whadaya think, Ma, is there a hair-do in there?"
My Mom: Bridget Maria Theresa Colleen Fitzgerald had been a saucy dark haired Irish lass, fresh from the old country, when she'd married my father 33 years ago, and at 53 still looked damn good with wavy gray hair and a mature version of the figure that had first caught my father's eye.
She took one look at Matt and went into nurturing mode.
Matt didn't stand a chance against Colleen, and I tried to hide my smile as she sat him down, whisked a sheet around his shoulders and trimmed his shaggy head of hair into a tidy cut, still a little long but much more attractive.
When he got up from the chair, she hugged him as she did all of us, for no reason whatsoever. After a frozen moment, Matt wrapped his arms around her, closed his eyes, and hugged her back for all he was worth. When she finally let him go, his cheeks were pink with embarrassed pleasure, but he was grinning.
He glanced up at me and in that moment, he was gorgeous. His face was too thin, but his smile was alive, his deep blue/green eyes were crinkled up, and I felt my heart melt a little more and my dick stir in my jeans. Jesus - what a combination of emotions.
I turned quickly away and went to find Vincent. He and my dad are buds and they were out nailing up one side of the decrepit chicken coop my mother had insisted on keeping when they bought the place just before I was born, claiming it had character. It had been a shack then and it was worse now, but the chickens didn't seem to mind living in a tenement, cranking out enough eggs to keep my folks and the neighbors well supplied. She sent us home with half a chocolate cake (over my father's protests), a dozen eggs, and a few late oranges from their little orchard.
Matt disposed of the oranges on the 20 minute drive from their house to ours, and I feared for the cake but she hadn't thought to include a fork so it made the trip intact.
We made a quick pass by the market for steaks and potatoes, a Starbucks to get us through until dinner, and finally made it home around four. I was exhausted and left the groceries to them, heading upstairs for a quick shower.
Vincent climbed in halfway through, squeezed a big squirt of waterproof lube up my ass, propped one of my feet on the ledge, and bent me over as he slithered in from behind. Between him banging away at me and the water sluicing down on us, I came loud and noisy without even thinking about the fact that Matt was somewhere around. Vincent was laughing so hard he lost his concentration and I had to suck him off, sitting on the ledge with him standing in front of me. I got him back by shoving a slick finger up his butt just he started to blow, and his moans went up an octave as I kept him in my mouth `til he was doubled over and clinging to my shoulders.
When we finally made it downstairs, Matt was in the den, stretched out on the couch with a book. I was glad to see that he didn't automatically turn on the TV. He did salads again while I grilled the steaks, and Vincent did something wonderful with the potatoes, which had been baking while we were carousing in the shower. They ended up back in their shells but mixed with sour cream, cheddar cheese, and a little garlic, then browned in the oven. Sometimes it was really nice having a chef in the family.
Matt's conversation at dinner was better this time. Vincent got him talking a little about what he'd like to do and I think we were both surprised when he said he wanted to get his GED, but he didn't really want to go sit in a classroom all day. He'd left school in the middle of 10th grade when his home situation became intolerable. He didn't offer any details but the averted eyes told me it wasn't good. We talked about his health, and although he was a bit timid about the subject, he agreed that he could probably use a physical. He also said he wanted to find a job so that he could pay us back for the clothes. I could hear the stubborn pride in his voice and didn't argue about it, but suggested that he could come with me to Stonegate; we always needed another pair of hands. He didn't know anything about horses, but was willing to give it a try so we decided he'd spend his days with me until we figured something out about a tutor.
After dinner, Vincent grabbed Matt and me by the hand and led us off to the den, flopping down against the arm of the sofa. I sat at the other end and waited to see what Matt would do with this scenario. He eyed me for a moment, then sat down near Vincent's feet. I was still feeling lazy so I slid down a bit, turned onto my side and swung my legs up across Matt's lap, not bothering to watch his reaction. It wasn't long before he settled a warm hand onto my leg, and it was only another minute or two before he began a slow rub up and down my calf. He had a nice touch and I fell asleep to the soft murmur of their voices, waking when Vincent shook my shoulder to go to bed.
Matt had already gone up and his door was only closed about halfway tonight. I caught a glimpse of him reaching to turn out the lamp on his bedside table. He was bare from the waist up, his nipples a deep pink against the smooth, pale skin of his chest. His eyes met mine for a split second, and then his room went dark.
"'Night, Matt. See you in the morning."
"Goodnight."
Vincent smiled at me and we fell into bed. My nap had refreshed me to the point of feeling rowdy, so I slid down the bed until Vincent's soft dick was level with my face and began to lick all around his groin, tickling my tongue into the soft crease of his thigh, sucking the wrinkled skin of his scrotum into my mouth, the taste, texture and smell of him exciting me. I got to his cock eventually, sliding one hand up his stomach onto his chest to rub a hard nipple with the pad of my finger as I ever so slowly sank my mouth down onto him. Each time my finger brushed across his nipple, his cock lurched in my throat and he groaned quietly.
I used my other hand to follow my mouth up and down his erection, and when my fingers were wet, I worked one into him, pulling back out to tease him with just the tip, wiggling it gently. Vincent's knees had been gradually lifting as I got more serious about what I was doing, and now he pulled them back and arched his head into the mattress as I knelt to get a better angle on his cock. I kept at it for as long as I could, but Vincent had other ideas and I soon found myself on my back with a mountain of pillows under my ass and my knees around my ears as he gave me the blue ribbon of rim jobs.
When I replied 'ugghhh' to his question of 'are you ready', he snorted, got to his feet and straddled me, angling his dick down to enter me in one long stroke. Since we've been screwing for so many years, we've gotten past the experimental phase and tend to use the handful of positions we've found work best for us, but now and then Vincent pulls something different out of his hat, and this was one of those nights. This particular position wasn't terribly comfortable on my neck, but had the redeeming feature of almost constant prostate stimulation, and I didn't last long once Vincent got into a rhythm of long, steady strokes. It was also different having my nuts hang down over my dick; my hand thumped into them each time I ran my fist to the base of my cock.
Mindless of the fact that Matt was just down the hall, I climaxed in an alternating series of grunts and groans, depending on what was happening each moment. Vincent pulled out of me and stroked himself to orgasm, bumping up against my butt each time he pumped into his hand. A handful of tissues later, we were snuggled up and drifting off when I heard Matt cry out. Vincent and I both held our breath to listen. After a moment, we heard him again.
"My turn," I whispered as I slid out of bed, holding up a hand to keep Vincent where he was.
When I got to the door of Matt's room, I could hear him breathing quickly as though he'd woken himself up, so I took a few steps into the room.
"Matt? You okay?"
He replied with a quavery, "Uh-huh," but followed it up with a "No!" when I turned to go.
I walked to the bed where he was curled into a ball under the sheet, on his side, his arms clutched to his chest, so much like Vincent was right after the attack. It hurt me to see Matt like that. I sat on the edge of the mattress and slowly reached out to lay a hand on his shoulder. At my touch, he curled closer and pressed his face against my leg, shaking a little. I rubbed my hand slowly around his back, over the knobs of his spine and the washboard of his ribs, bringing it up to softly squeeze the back of his neck now and then.
"It's alright, Matty. You're safe with us. No one's gonna bother you now."
He gave a small nod and his breathing evened out some. One hand left his chest and came up around my bare hip, hugging me to him. I stayed there for a long time, until I felt him begin to fall asleep again. As I stood, I bent over and kissed the top of his head, aching that his young life was so full of bad shit that he couldn't get through one night without the horror of it ripping him awake.
Vincent was lying with his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling when I came back to bed. He looked at me as I curled up next to him and I shook my head. "Poor kid."
Matt didn't seem any the worse for wear the next morning, especially after the huge breakfast that Maria cooked once she saw how skinny he was. I drove to the barn with him beside me since he didn't know how to ride a horse yet; he was quiet but didn't seem particularly anxious at the prospect of meeting a bunch of new people and learning to do things he'd never even heard of. (He'd made a face the night before when I'd mentioned that mucking out stalls would be one of his duties. "Is that as bad as it sounds?" he'd asked.) I admired his reserved determination to pull his own weight.
I'd called Tommy earlier that morning and he met us when we pulled in. I'd told him enough about Matt's situation for him to understand that Matt needed to be shown how to do almost everything, not just sent off to a stall with a grooming box in his hand. The next time I saw Matt, he was carting a big load of dirty shavings across the yard to the dumpster. The wheelbarrow wobbled dangerously a few times, but he didn't lose any of his cargo, and I smiled that Tommy was having Matt learn on the treacherous single- wheel barrow that Tommy was so fond of.
When I went looking for Matt at 5 o'clock, he was covered in hay chaff, had a big brown streak of something smelly across one cheek, and looked exhausted. I felt a pang of guilt, remembering that he hadn't been eating all that well up until two days ago and that he probably really wasn't up to a full day of hard stable work; but he smiled when he saw me and we climbed into the car for the ten minute drive home. As we parked, he sat there a moment so I waited, wondering what was up.
"My mom used to call me Matty," he said in a small voice, glancing up at me.
"Yeah? It just sort of slipped out. It must suit you."
I patted his shoulder and we got out. He went straight up to shower, and I wandered into the kitchen to greet Vincent who was preparing twice the usual number of lamp chops for the broiler. He glanced up when I walked in.
"How'd it go?"
"Fine, I think. Tommy said he worked hard, and he was dirty enough that I believe it."
Matt went straight for the fridge and the lettuce when he came down a bit later. I don't know what else he knew how to make, but he was getting damn good at salads. We ate every last chop, two each for Vincent and me, four for Matt, then took the last of the cake to the den with coffee and another big glass of milk. He took one end of the couch this time so he could lean against the arm, Vincent the other, and I flopped down in the middle. Matt polished off the cake, gulped down his milk, and promptly fell asleep.
When Vincent and I were ready to go upstairs, I shook Matt's shoulder gently and he came awake with a start, ducking out from under my hand to cower on the floor. He recovered almost immediately, getting to his feet but moving out of my reach.
I was speechless for a moment, then, "Jesus, Matt, I'm sorry."
He shook his head, not looking at me as his breathing slowed. "It's okay. It scared me cause I was asleep." After another moment, he met my eyes and came close enough to lay a hand on my arm. "I'm sorry. I know you won't hurt me."
I just stood there, not sure what to do for him when he stepped closer to me, tentatively put his arms around my waist, and lay his head on my shoulder. I hugged him warmly, feeling the boney rub of his hip against my belly. We stood there for a long moment, then he pulled away and left the room. Vincent raised an eyebrow at me and smiled.
That night Matt slept clear through, not a peep from his room where he'd left the door wide open.
The next day, I took him to the clinic first thing in the morning. God knows what he'd been exposed to, and before he became sexually active again, I wanted to know he was healthy. Vincent and I were familiar with the folks at the clinic, as they were with us; we were all on a first name basis. When they called Matt's name, he touched my hand.
"Stay with me." Quiet, simple words that lit a warm little spark in my chest.
I had them give him the works and he endured it stoically, grimacing at the needles and crossing his eyes at me when he came out from behind the curtain from the prostate exam.
Tuesday evening was a repeat of Monday, except Matt didn't fall asleep on the couch - he fell asleep at the dinner table, slumped in his chair while Vincent and I lingered over coffee and the canollis he'd brought home from Corleone's. He woke up as we cleared the table, helped us half-heartedly, and traipsed off to bed.
Jesse called that evening. He'd completed the background check on Matt and it was grim. His parents had been killed in a car accident when he was 10, and he'd been shunted around the system for four years before running off. The last home he'd been in had recently been terminated as a foster home due to repeated neglect and reports of improper behavior on the part of the husband. There was no evidence that Matt had been harmed by this man, but he'd run away for some reason.
Wednesday morning Matt was quiet again at breakfast and I finally asked him if anything was wrong. He looked from me to Vincent and back again.
"Today's my birthday," he said quietly.
Vincent recovered first, glancing quickly at me, then to Matt. "Congratulations. Eighteen, huh? I sorta remember being eighteen once." Matt chuckled at him. "Come by the restaurant after you guys get cleaned up tonight. We'll have dinner."
I looked at Matt and nodded. "Yeah, we'll celebrate."
He looked pleased and I just hoped he'd be able to stay awake for it. With that in mind, I had him help me most of the day, introducing him to many of the owners, riders, and trainers who were around the stable each day. When we got over to the south barn, I noticed Barney wasn't in his stall so we went out to the round pen where Gabriel had him trotting on a longe line. Barney looked great after three months of high quality feed and Sam's vitamin shots; his heavy muscles rippled under a glossy dark coat.
"How's he doing?" I called out to Gabriel.
"Great. Fat and sassy. No limp that I can see."
"Well, Sam said his tendon wasn't as bad as she first thought. Maybe he's had enough rest for it to have healed. Let's see what he's like to ride."
I tacked him up and had Gabriel give me a leg into the saddle. Barney's ears waggled but he stood still as I got settled. When I nudged him out to the rail, he went willingly, stepping out when I legged him a little. I asked him for an extended trot and was amazed when he lifted into a lovely floating trot, each front leg striking out sharply before dropping lightly to the ground. Someone had put some dressage moves on this horse and he remembered them. I dropped back to a walk, then asked him for a canter; he transitioned smoothly, staying collected and in my hands. I walked him a bit more, and then gave him back to Gabriel.
"He seems fine. Why don't you ride him easy around the farm for about an hour a day; walk and trot only. Let's see how he does."
Gabriel smiled at me. "Great, I'd love to. Thanks."
I watched Gabriel as he led Barney over to the rail and hopped on. He had become a good employee, quiet and busy, and he did more than just the job assigned. Now and then, I'd catch him watching me speculatively, but he'd just smile and go back to work. I made a mental note to have a chat with him soon.
Matt and I headed back to the main barn when I heard the rattle of a horse trailer coming up the drive. We weren't expecting any incoming horses, so I paused to see who it was, surprised when TJ's ratty old Explorer pulled in towing an even older two-horse trailer. He hopped out and gave me a guarded look as he began to open the trailer doors.
"What have you got in there?" I asked him suspiciously.
"Another one."
"'Another one' what?" I asked, frowning at him, but I figured I already knew.
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