Waking up was something of an ordeal for Matt. He was having a hell of a time getting his brain to function and tell him basic things, like where he was. It took a moment, but he managed to open both eyes and found himself starring at familiar blue walls. The sheets were tangled around him, and there was an indent in the pillow next to his face. Liam. Moving made his head burst into flames -- or at least he hoped that was the reason for the splitting head ache. But there was no smoke or screaming alarm, so probably not. He forced himself to his feet and stumbled out toward the house, trying to remember everything that had happened.
It was flowing back slowly, bit by bit. He and Liam had gone to that stupid gangbang party upon his boyfriend's request. Maybe he'd gotten plastered to get through it? But that raised so many more questions. Like what the hell did he do after that? Through bleary eyes he could see a male form bent over, looking in the fridge. Liam looked weird to his hang-over weary eyes, thinner, taller. Stepping up behind him, Matt placed a hand on his hip as he reached for the glass of juice sitting on the counter, mumbling a "hey," before downing it in one gulp. It helped ease a little of the fog in his mind, and he turned to Liam, who had stood up.
Except it wasn't Liam. It hadn't been his weary eyes - this man was thinner and taller than Liam - with long dark hair so unlike the blonde locks Liam kept short. "You're not Liam," Matt said softly.
Dark eyes met his own as the blood drained from Matt's face. Those eyes. He knew those eyes. They flashed through his mind, and Matt remembered shoving a cock away from that supple mouth so he could look into them. He also remembered Liam screaming at him, Matt shoving Liam away. "Jason." It came out as a low moan. The glass slipped from his hand, crashing to the floor and he stumbled back a step, hand falling away from Jason's hip. "Oh, fuck. What did I do last night?"
The man had a well-stocked fridge, Jason had to give him that. Quite the wide variety of meats, cheese, vegetables. Other staples, like dairy, milk, juice. Aforementioned bacon. Eggs. Definitively not the poor empty state of a bachelor's fridge. At least it would offer a more substantial breakfast than beer and beef jerky. He was quite happy with the find of orange juice. It wasn't often that he got it. It felt like a luxury.
Reaching into the fridge, he grabbed a carrot, biting a chunk off the raw vegetable. It gave a satisfying crunch as he chewed, continuing his search through of the fridge. Cheese. Well, that did sound tasty. He could slice himself a chunk and-
A hand fell on his hip, a slight jolt shooting through Jason's spine. Shit. Busted. How had he not heard the man come in. Somewhat guiltily, he raised himself, eyes glancing over the man. Damn. Those bruises Jason had tried to prevent the night before, had come up in full force thanks to the man's rather persistent insistence on other activities.
"You're not Liam." At that, Jason inwardly cursed. Damnit. Seemed like the man didn't quite recall the evening before, where he had kicked out his boyfriend. Really, Jason should've known. The guy had gotten quite the beating the night before. Well, it was too late now to make any changes. What had happened, happened. Nothing he could do about that.
For a moment, Jason didn't speak, watching the man's face drain in colour, his name muttered. The glass that the man had taken shattered to the ground, a question stuttered as the man stepped back. Shit. Double shit. He was a regretter. Fuck. This was awkward. A regretter, who couldn't even remember what had happened. And who wanted an explanation.
"You got yourself in a fight yesterday at Paul's," he finally spoke, breaking the silence, somewhat awkwardly, half a carrot still in his hand. "With about everyone. And with who I assume was your boyfriend," he then added, pausing for a moment. Not sure what else to say, he took another bite of the carrot, regretting it almost instantly as it crunched rather loudly between his teeth. He swallowed.
"...I took you home. You were pretty beat." He then added, wavering. "But...you look like you're doing okay now....So... I guess I'll be on my way," he muttered.
A fight? No wonder he felt like complete shit. He gently prodded his face and regretted it as the tender flesh shot waves of pain through his head. More memories flowed into Matt's mind from the party debacle. His cock buried deep inside Jason's ass while he kept the other men off of him. The two of them getting pulled apart. Getting kicked in the ribs. Then there was Jason again, saving him and trying to get him to ice his wounds. He remembered shoving Liam off and telling him it was over. Good[! a voice in his head shouted. It's about time!
"I dumped Liam," he muttered.
But a lot of stuff after that point got fuzzy. He remembered sitting in his truck with Jason. He remembered pinning him in the hallway, kissing him. Fuck. What had he done? As he continued searching Jason's face, he remembered shoving him against the tiled wall of his shower, sliding his throbbing dick deep inside of him. Fuck! The guy had helped him out of a completely stupid situation, and Matt had used him like he was a common whore. Used him after he'd been trying to keep everyone else from using him. And for what?
And now the guy was going to leave. "No!" Matt had lunged forward and taken hold of Jason before thinking, gripping his shoulders. He realized a second too late how crazy he was acting and let go again, though he stayed close as he whispered, "uou don't have to go...please, don't go. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to take advantage of you. Please, please just...stay."
More memories flooded in, so close to Jason he could smell faintly his own soap. His tongue driving into Jason's ass. Jason pressed up against him in the shower as Matt talked about food.
"Breakfast," he murmured, I owe you breakfast." He owed him a lot more than that, but it would be a start. "Please?"
"Yeah. You did." Jason muttered, somewhat awkwardly as the man before him reached the conclusion that he had broken up with his partner. The man stared at him intently, a feeling of dread pooling in his stomach. Oh shit. He was pretty sure he knew what was going to come up next. Blame. Still, he stood there, dark brown eyes remaining on the man, trying to predict the man's next move. "Sorry, man," he then added, somewhat awkwardly.
The man, however, merely stood there, just looking. Jason wasn't even sure if the man had heard him. Wasn't even sure if the words he had forced out of his throat had made an actual sound, or whether they had been barely a whisper. His voice tended to disappear when he became uncomfortable. And the man's intense gaze was making him very uncomfortable.
Jason's eyes widened as the man suddenly lurched at him, hands grabbing at his shoulders. In a reflex, the man froze in place. He didn't even try to defend himself, though, luckily, it seemed the man had no true intention to attack him, letting go almost instantly.
"Ehm. Yeah....Whatever...Sure." Jason spoke as the man told him not to go, offering up breakfast. Really, all his thoughts were on how the man had to be some sort of mental case, but he felt uneasy declining the almost desperate plea. Who knew what the guy would do next? It had already been made clear the night before that the man was a bit unpredictable. Unhinged perhaps. The best thing to do was to go along with it, and just get out as soon as he could. It was only breakfast. What was the worst that could happen, apart from some awkwardness?
And besides....he was starving. The opportunity to have a home-cooked meal didn't come along all that often. Wasn't it worth staying behind for?
Jason was staying. Good. Now he had to figure out how to pour all the guilt he felt into an omelet, or something, and not beat his head into the wall. He also had to keep his wandering hands from grabbing at Jason. He didn't know why, but he institutionally wanted to touch him, brush the hair in his face over his ear. His hand ached to grab his hip again. What was up with him this morning? One night of using the poor guy, and he didn't want to stop touching him. Fuck.
Swallowing down his fear, self-loathing, regret, he stepped away from Jason, eyeing the carrot the guy was holding with the tiniest of frowns -- not because he minded Jason raiding the fridge, but it felt like an odd thing for him to have grabbed. There were muffins he'd made the other day in a basket on the counter right next to the fridge, filled with fresh, juicy berries. But he'd gone for raw vegetables? It made the pit of Matt's stomach roil, and he wasn't entirely sure why.
His mind was scattered all over the place, but at least he had enough sense to reach down and pick up the pieces of glass that has once been a part of a set. He threw the big chunks in the garbage and swept up any remnants before moving to the fridge.
Looking at the shelves he noted that he really needed to go shopping. He was out of some of his favorites, but...there were a half dozen eggs, and he knew he had a loaf of sourdough in the crisper, and a bottle of olive oil and assorted spices. It would work. "You said soft boiled eggs, right?" He was more in control of himself now, talking about his passion. Jason nodded. "Alright, I'll whip something together." He realized Jason had been just sort of standing there the entire time, and he mentioned, "you can watch some TV, if you want? Remote's on the coffee table. Breakfast should be ready in twenty."
He was lost in his mind as he cooked, setting a pot of water on the stove to boil and turning on the oven. As it heated, he grabbed the bread and cut it into strips. Next he melted butter, adding in a dash of fresh parsley and thyme as well as some dijon and pepper. The water was boiling now so he put the eggs in to cook, finding some gruyère and romano in his fridge. He pulled a pan and lined it with foil, soaking the bread strips in the mixture before laying them on the pan, sprinkling them with the cheeses, and popping it into the oven.
He was all over the kitchen while things cooked, fussing over his eggs, which he finally set on the table in their own little egg cups, the toast on a little plate. "Soft eggs with buttered herb-gruyere toast," he announced with a flourish, then felt sort of silly. As Jason approached the table, a lot of the guilt that had floated away while he lost himself in the kitchen settled back into his stomach.
For a short moment, Matt still looked at him with an odd, slight frown, glancing at the carrot Jason had taken, before the man turned away. Somewhat awkwardly, Jason watched as the man cleaned the broken glass and then rummaged through the fridge, giving a slight nod when the man asked if it were soft boiled eggs that he had requested. The question surprised Jason. The man had trouble recalling anything that had happened the previous night, yet he remembered something as insignificant as how he liked his eggs? Odd indeed. Still, before he could ponder it any further, the man offered he could go and watch television. Breakfast in twenty.
