by Max Hudson
Though Mason had warned Owen that he’d be talkative during the movie, he remains quiet throughout. About half-way through the film, Owen glances up at him, about to rib him a bit and ask what the holdup is. The words die in his throat, though, when he sees that Mason is staring at him. He stares back, locking eyes with Mason, and feels his lips part slightly. Slowly, Mason leans his head in, pressing his lips softly against Owen’s. Owen’s mouth opens in response, and he sighs in pleasure, appreciative of the gentle kiss.
Mason’s mouth moves against Owen’s, keeping the kiss slow and deep. He runs his tongue along Owen’s bottom lip and bites it softly. Owen’s breathing hitches and he feels Mason smile. He reaches up and puts a strong hand against Owen’s face, twisting his fingers gently in Owen’s hair. Hesitantly, Owen puts his hand on Mason’s thigh, squeezing slightly and pulling him closer. A thrill runs through him when he hears Mason inhale softly, and Mason kisses him harder.
Suddenly, Mason pulls back, breathing hard with closed eyes. After a few moments, he opens them, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly. “I don’t expect anything tonight. This can be as far as it goes. I just want to make sure we’re on the same page here before either of us gets too excited.”
Owen nods, leaning back against the couch and out of Mason’s grip. Mason does the same, and they sit together in silence, each trying to get their breathing under control. Closing his eyes, Owen tries to figure out what to do and looks inside himself, toward God, for the answer.
Do I really believe that God will hate me if I do this? That He won’t love me anymore?
He glances over at Mason. While he can’t deny the desire that rushes through him, he also can’t deny that it’s more than that. He truly likes Mason. It isn’t just physical, and it isn’t just sex. He cares for Mason, and that realization makes up his mind for him. Looking at the future, he sees that he could easily come to love Mason, and he firmly believes that God wouldn’t abandon him for loving another human being, male or female.
He stands and faces Mason, holding out a hand to him. Mason stares up at him, raising an eyebrow.
“Are you sure?” he asks.
“Yes,” Owen replies. “I mean, for God’s sake, let’s take it slow tonight, neither of us have any clue what the hell we’re doing.” They both laugh. “But yes, I want to do this.”
Mason takes his hand, pulling himself off the couch. Owen leads him to his bedroom, thankful that he’d had enough sense to clean up the whirlwind of clothing before leaving earlier. Mason closes the door behind him, and the tension in the room increases. They stare at each other for a moment, gauging the other’s emotions.
Owen tugs gently on Mason’s hand, pulling him closer. He puts a hand on Mason’s hip and kisses him, his thumb slipping under the hem of Mason’s shirt. Mason responds, pushing his body tighter against Owen’s. Owen feels Mason’s dick through both of their pants, and he’s sure that Mason can feel his. But instead of recoiling or feeling shocked, it sends a thrill through Owen and he wants to pull Mason in even closer.
Feeling bold, he slides his whole hand under Mason’s shirt, reveling in the smooth warmth of his skin. Mason reaches behind his head, pulling off the shirt from the back of the neck and tosses it to the side. Owen rakes his eyes over Mason’s torso and tries to keep his jaw from dropping to the floor. Mason is ripped – far more than Owen in his prime, let alone now. His ab muscles are clearly defined on his stomach, pecs protrude from his chest, and muscles bulge from his arms though they hang loosely at his side.
Mason leans in and kisses Owen, sliding his own hands under Owen’s shirt. Owen leaps back, cheeks filling with blood. He keeps his eyes off of Mason, unable to look at him. He tugs at the shirt and wraps his arms in front of him.
“Are you okay?” Mason murmurs, taking a hesitant step toward Owen. Owen takes a step back in response.
“I’m… I’m fine.” He swallows hard. What is he supposed to say? ‘Sorry, you look like a Greek god, but I look like a flabby fish, tough luck, bud’?
“Hey.” Mason closes the gap between them, taking a finger and coaxing Owen’s face up. “You don’t need to be embarrassed about anything, you know. I don’t care what you look like underneath that dashing sweater.”
“You say that now,” Owen mutters, still refusing to meet Mason’s gaze.
“Look, I seriously don’t have a body type I prefer. I’ve liked super thin people, overweight people, ridiculously fit people, even one with a skin condition that made her skin different colors. Trust me, I will not care what your body looks like.”
Owen scoffs. “You’re telling me you don’t have a type?”
“Well, not exactly. I do tend to gravitate toward people with eyes like yours.” Owen finally looks up, locking eyes with Mason. “Brown, especially when they’re like yours, with another color around the pupil. You have gold in your eyes.”
Mason leans in and kisses Owen, softly again, taking his time and letting Owen relax. This time when Mason slips his hand under Owen’s sweater, Owen lets him, lifting his arms when Mason goes to take it off. Mason dives right back in with more passion this time, sliding his tongue into Owen’s mouth. Owen lets him, twisting their tongues together. Mason puts his hands on Owen’s hips, pushing him gently toward the edge of the bed. When the back of his legs hit the mattress, he stops, and Mason’s hands drift toward the front of Owen’s pants. Following his lead, Owen reaches for Mason’s, fumbling with the button. He feels Mason smile against his mouth, and suddenly his hands are pushing Owen’s out of the way.
“Allow me,” he murmurs, quickly undoing his fly and returning his focus to Owen’s clothing. He whips the pants down quickly, popping back up and immediately returning his lips to Owen’s. He pushes against Owen again, this time forcing Owen to sit on the mattress. They pause for a moment, Owen’s hands resting on Mason’s hips. Looking up, Owen slides Mason’s pants down, letting them fall to the floor. Mason steps out of them, almost falling over in his rush, making them both laugh.
As Mason stands, Owen’s hand brushes against his penis and feels it throb through the thin cloth of Mason’s underwear. Mason inhales sharply, all laughter gone. Deliberately this time, Owen reaches for Mason, brushing his fingertips lightly over it. Mason presses against his hand, a quiet moan escaping his lips.
Owen slides his fingers under the waistband of Mason’s underwear, sliding them down his legs and onto the floor with his pants. He runs his hand lightly along his now fully visible and erect penis, smiling softly when it pulses against his hand. He wraps his hand more firmly around it, pulling slowly but firmly.
“Fuck,” Mason groans, pushing into Owen’s hand.
Owen continues to move in smooth, firm motions, letting Mason thrust into his hand at his own pace. Suddenly, Mason pulls back out of Owen’s reach and immediately moves forward, locking lips with Owen and urging him further up the bed. Owen scoots, lying on his back as Mason hovers over him. They press against each other, their entire bodies touching. Mason breaks it off for a moment, leaping up and yanking off Owen’s underwear without any hesitation, before leaning back in and continuing to kiss him.
He runs his hand down Owen’s chest and stomach, lightly touching the tip of his penis. Owen gasps and his dick throbs with him, shocked at how little it took to send a spike of pleasure up his body. Taking it as a sign to continue, Mason gets a firmer grip on Owen, pulling rhythmically. Owen reaches out and grabs Mason, trying to pull to the same rhythm. They thrust into each other’s hands, and pleasure begins to build in Owen. Their breathing increases and their thrusts become quicker, harder, and Owen increases the firmness of his grip on Mason. His other hand reaches around Mason’s back and pulls him closer, fingernails digging into the flesh of his back.
Mason’s penis begins to pulse in Owen’s hand, and he groans against Owen’s mouth. It’s enough to send Owen over the edge as well, pleasure rushing through his body as he cums. He moans with Mason, letting his dick pulse and the pleasure to rush
in time through him.
As the last echoes of pleasure leave them, Mason rolls over and collapses next to Owen on the bed. Their breathing is still rough, and they lay next to each other for a moment, the silence broken by Owen’s laughter.
He slaps a hand to his forehead, the giggles unstoppable now in his throat. Soon Mason is joining in, and Owen rolls onto his elbow and plants a solid kiss on Mason’s lips.
“Well,” Owen murmurs, face still close to Mason’s, “that was something.”
Mason just grins, kissing Owen softly before he rolls back over and lays on the bed next to him, winding their fingers together and drifting off to sleep.
Chapter Eleven
Harsh ringing wakes Owen in the early hours of the following morning. Starting up in bed and rubbing the grime from his eyes, he fumbles for his phone, patting the bed and the nightstand. He knocks his alarm clock off the table. Cursing, he picks it up and grabs his phone, which is sitting next to it. A text from Faith waits for him.
Lunch today? I want to hear about your date!! :)
Owen closes his eyes and tries to figure out what to tell her. She’ll be concerned if he says no. Very rarely did he turn down an offer to see her or any of his other daughters, and doing so now would only make her worry. Sighing, he texts her back.
Sure. Where and when?
Bob’s at 12?
Kk sweetie. Love u
Love you too dad!
He flops back into bed, rubbing his eyes and glancing at the time before setting his phone down. Six-thirty. He tosses it to the side and closes his eyes, letting himself relax for a while longer before rolling out of bed.
Mason stirs, throwing an arm over Owen’s chest. He flinches. He hadn’t realized that Mason was awake.
“Morning,” Mason mumbles, eyes still closed and barely moving.
“Morning,” Owen murmurs, absentmindedly running his fingers through Mason’s hair.
They lay like that for another hour or so, Owen drifting in and out of sleep. Eventually, Mason groans and pushes himself off the bed. Owen glances at him, blushing. He’s still completely naked, and Owen had forgotten for a moment how attractive he is.
He pulls on his clothes from last night, ruffling his hair and trying to make it semi-presentable. After he’s dressed, he leans over Owen and kisses him softly.
“I’m going to head home for a bit,” he murmurs. “Want to get lunch later? Or are you sick of me?” He grins, ruffling Owen’s hair.
Owen nods without thinking, happy that Mason seems eager to make plans, before he remembers. “Shit, wait. I can’t. My daughter asked to get lunch today.”
“That’s okay. I’ll just see you at work on Monday, then.” Mason kisses Owen again, deeper and longer this time. He pulls back, smiling. He heads for the door, pausing as he reaches the doorway. Turning back, he grins impishly. “I had a good time last night, by the way. Your hands are magic.” He waggles his fingers at Owen.
Owen feels himself blush, and Mason chuckles as he walks out the door. As he hears the front door open and close, Owen sighs, hauling himself out of bed and into the shower. He revels in the warmth of the water, placing a hand against the wall and letting the water cascade over his head and back.
I had sex with a man last night.
The thought hits him, unsolicited and not wholly wanted. Owen exhales deeply, letting the thought settle and stew for a moment. He had sex with a man. Though he enjoyed it and does not regret it, the thought nonetheless makes his stomach turn. In an attempt to make the feeling go away, he forces his thoughts down a different path.
I had sex with Mason last night.
The uncomfortable feeling in his gut dissipates, and Owen sighs in relief. Though he still struggles with the abstract idea of sleeping with another man, the idea of being with Mason brings nothing but joy and pleasure. He smiles, letting his mind wander in the memories of the previous night. Yes, nothing makes his stomach turn here. Mason is special.
After a while, he reluctantly climbs out of the shower, dressing and grabbing a small breakfast before settling on the couch for a couple of hours. As it nears lunch time, he pulls himself off the couch and heads to Bob’s restaurant to meet Faith.
He arrives a few minutes early, settling in and figuring out what he wants before Faith gets there. He’s absorbed in the menu, deciding between two different entrees, when she arrives.
“Hey, Dad.”
Owen looks up, smiling as his eyes meet the vibrant green ones belonging to Faith, her cheeks bright pink from the sting of the cold outside. She smiles back at him, squeezing him tightly around the shoulders before taking a seat across the table from him. Owen waits for the barrage of questions, but she remains quiet until they’ve both ordered. After the waiter has left with their requests, she stares at him, the corners of her mouth twitching up.
“So,” she says, raising her eyebrows, “how was your date?”
He shrugs, sipping his coffee as nonchalantly as he can. “Can’t complain.”
Faith stares at him. “That’s it? That’s all I get?” She laughs, shoving him lightly over the table. “C’mon, Dad, give me details! What did you guys do? What’s she like? Are you going to see her again?”
He clears his throat, running through the lie he’d prepared in his head. “We just went to dinner. She’s a nice girl, smart, funny. But I’m not going to be seeing her again. She’s a perfectly nice person, just weren’t any sparks there.”
“Oh,” she replies, sitting back in her seat. “I’m sorry, Dad.”
He shrugs. “No big deal.”
Faith continues to stare at him. Owen shifts, uncomfortable under the scrutinizing gaze of his daughter. She’d always been more perceptive than anyone else in the family. She’d sensed discord between him and Jenna before he’d consciously realized it himself, and she was always sensitive to the moods of those around her. Trying to shift the focus onto her, he smiles. “What about you, Sweet Pea? How are classes? Any boys I should be worried about?”
She rolls her eyes, momentarily distracted. Owen lets go of a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Classes are fine. Boring, but fine so far this semester. And no, Dad, you don’t have any boys to worry about.” She nudges his arm playfully, grinning as she does. “I was wondering, though, if you’re not going to see Suzie again, do you think you’ll be going on more dates soon?”
He pauses with his drink halfway to his mouth, stunned. “I – uh, no,” he stutters. “No. Don’t think you’ll have to worry about that for a while.”
Faith glances down at her hands, now folded neatly in front of her. “It’s been three years, Dad,” she murmurs. “Mom’s been on lots of dates. I think you should, too. Don’t let one dud put you off of dating.”
Mason’s face flashes in Owen’s mind, and he desperately tries to push the image out before he speaks again. He reaches out for Faith’s hand, gripping it firmly in his.
“I know you’re worried, sweetheart, but you don’t need to be. I’m fine, really. I’m too old for the dating scene, anyhow.” He laughs, giving her hand a squeeze.
She rolls her eyes again, scoffing. “You’re not that old. Besides, aren’t middle-aged women supposed to like middle-aged men?” She grins, pulling her hand out of his and reaching for her phone. “Look, I’m going to set up an account for you on this dating app. You need to get back out there. This will help you meet more women, take the edge off the pressure of asking a woman out in person.”
Owen’s pulse jumps and he stops himself from snatching the phone out of her hand. “No, no, don’t do that, Faithy,” he says as calmly as he can, clenching his hands in his lap under the table. “I really don’t need the Internet to get me dates—”
She holds up a finger while she stares at the phone, tapping quickly with the thumb of her other hand. Owen opens his mouth to protest again, but decides against it and leans back in his seat, resigned to his fate. Faith is stubborn and strong-willed. It will be easier to let her set
him up on a couple of dates than to fight her on it. Either way, she was going to get her way. He might as well take the path of least resistance.
“And there,” she says triumphantly, placing her phone down on the table. His phone buzzes in his pocket but he ignores it, figuring it was from Faith. “I just sent you a text with the account information in it. Your profile is mostly set up, but I left some things blank for you to do.” She smiles at him, and his heart melts. Though his gut was in tight knots at the moment, he couldn’t help but be grateful to have been blessed with such a beautiful, kind child. At seventeen—prime years for selfishness and disregard for the feelings of others—she was always thinking of others and doing everything she could to make her loved ones happy.
He sighs, tilting his head back and rubbing his eyes. “If I end up meeting crazies,” he mutters, “I’m blaming it entirely on you.”
The corners of his mouth tilt up at the sound of her bell-like laughter, care-free and young and unburdened.
Chapter Twelve
The next few weeks pass by in a haze of contentment for Owen. He continues to see Mason, covertly, and they begin to develop a routine. At work, they continue to talk as they had before, a simple and very platonic bantering between two coworkers. No one else in the office seems to notice anything different between the two, and quickly they begin sending each other texts and emails from their private accounts throughout the day, just little jokes or innuendos that they can’t say to each other out loud. After work, they’d take their own cars, but would generally end up at one or the other’s places, often times spending the night.