Freeze Frame

by Mia Watts

“Yeah, you can. Get up. Walk away. Don’t look back. I know it can be done. It’s been done my whole life. Except for this kid,” he motioned toward the grave. “And look what happened to him.”

  Dill watched his profile. Mason was sinking in his misery. The deeper he drifted, the more he walled himself off.

  Make him laugh, Dill.

  “Naw. I can’t leave. You give great head.”

  Mason jerked his head around, searching Dill’s face with a look of confusion on his own. A smile tugged the corners of his lips up. “Only good?”

  Dill pretended to consider it for a moment. “Yeah. I’ve had better.”

  “Fuck you,” Mason said, laughing.

  “You never did buy me that coffee. I think I gave you a freebie back at the cabin.”

  Mason’s laughter subsided. He grabbed Dill behind the neck, a move he really liked because it meant Mason wanted to kiss him. This time Dill beat him to it, leaning in before Mason could drag him, and locked lips with the tattooed warrior.

  If I could just make him quit hurting, Dill thought. If I could just show him there’s more good in people than he’s seen.

  Mason pressed his forehead to Dill’s, breathing as deeply as he did. “Freeze time for me, Dill. Give me a head start.”

  “I don’t control this thing.”

  “I just want to talk to her alone when she unfreezes.”

  “I still can’t control this thing. Not for you, not for me, not for anyone. It’s part of the faery funhouse.”

  “That can’t be true. You’ve saved my life twice, gave us our own pocket of time when we made love and the world around us ceased to exist. You froze it the first time we met. Those aren’t coincidences,” Mason reasoned.

  He was right. There were differences in his abilities since he’d met Mason, and it reminded him of Sage and Flora and how their abilities had changed when they’d met their perfect partner. He didn’t need an alteration of his abilities to know Mason was his perfect match. But what happened if his perfect match wouldn’t have him?

  Dill had grown up knowing that the faery realm played with human freewill, bending it and stretching it to complicate decisions they made. They couldn’t alter its course unless the will to stay the course remained weak. Mason didn’t want him enough to ask him to stay. He didn’t want Dill enough to fight for their relationship. He already believed it was doomed, and he had ample reason, historical precedence, to back it up. All previous relationships for Mason had deteriorated into the rubble of not-good-enough.

  Mason had no reason to believe Dill would be any different, and if he never gave them a chance, it wouldn’t matter if they were a perfect match. Dill would have to watch him walk away and know there’d never be another man for him the way Mason would have been.

  Which, to Dill, meant one thing. He’d have to fight hard enough for both of them without scaring away his perfect match. Maybe if he carried the load until Mason was strong enough, they’d still have that chance.

  “They’re not coincidences,” Dill agreed. “Doesn’t mean I have control over them.”

  “Try.”

  “Give me a reason,” Dill said.

  Mason sat back on his heels, looking over his shoulder at Diego’s grave. “What kind of a reason are you looking for, Dill. We’ve had this discussion.”

  He’d try a different direction, get Mason thinking about how Dill fit into his life beyond his personal convenience. “Are you using me?”

  Mason met his gaze steadily. “Yes.”

  Well, that’s not what I was hoping he’d say. The admission stung. It also created a series of questions Dill needed answers to. All personal.

  “How far are you willing to use me?”

  “As far as I need to. That’s just the kind of guy I am,” Mason said coldly.

  “Liar. You wouldn’t tell me that if it were true.”

  “I’m honest.”

  “You’re warning me,” Dill countered.

  “You’re a decent guy. Don’t get mixed up with me and my shit.”

  “It’s my choice.”

  “It’s also mine. Either help me, or go away,” Mason said.

  He looked away, and Dill heard the strain in his voice, the way his Adam’s apple bobbed with unspoken emotion.

  “Mason,” Dill said quietly.

  Mason didn’t look at him.

  “Mason,” he said, trying again. This time the fathomless black-eyed stare lifted to his. “I’m gonna tell you something as many times as it takes and you’re going to listen, do you know why?”

  “Because you’re a stubborn fucker?”

  Dill grinned. “I’m going to tell you that I’m not going anywhere. That I want you. We’re in a dank graveyard, on our knees in soaking grass, our cocks are tucked away, and I still want you in my life. You’re valuable to me. And you’re going to listen because you want my help, and I’m going to give it to you.”

  “Why am I valuable to you? Carla Leon paying you well?”

  “Get your head out of my wallet. You fucking feel what I feel, and we both know it. I want you. I’d chuck your baggage to the curb, but don’t worry, I’ll provide all kinds of new coping shit you can deal with.”

  “Oh, I get it. You’re a fixer. I should have known.”

  Mason got to his feet. He started walking away before Dill caught up with him, but when he did, he grabbed Mason’s elbow to stop him. “Deny it. Go on. You can sling your punches, and they’ll find a mark. They’ll hurt. If that’s what you want, do it. But if there’s any part of you that thinks I might be worth the effort, this would be the time to start easing up on the emotional battery.”

  “Don’t you get it? I don’t fucking want to hurt you. Quit coming back for more,” Mason snapped.

  For the second time, Mason reached for him, pulling him tight against his chest and sinking his fingers into his hair to hold him still. His mouth covered Dill’s in a demanding search for answers. Dill tasted fear, need, desperation, and more fear.

  He wrapped his arms around Mason’s waist keeping him snug against his body. He hoped he showed comfort and patience, yet the kiss was scrambling his better intentions, turning them hot and hungry for more of Mason’s skilled seduction.

  “When this is over,” Mason murmured, nibbling Dill’s lips as he spoke. “We’ll make a go of it when this is over.”

  “If you don’t trust me when things are tough, you’ll never know that I would have stuck by you in every hardship.”

  “This isn’t your fight,” Mason said, his voice cracking as he rushed over the words.

  Dill’s hopes soared. It told him he was getting through, and Mason fought it. “You’re right. It’s our fight because it’s your fight.”

  “You sound like your mom.”

  Dill found himself smiling. “Don’t tell her. She’d never let me live it down.”

  “You’ve got an interesting family.”

  “There’s room for another member, Mason.”

  Mason took him in another searing kiss. His tongue pressed through the barrier of Dill’s lips and rubbed wickedly with his. Slick, hot, plunging, their mouths did all the things their cocks were straining to do.

  Dill felt his legs kick out from under him. Mason neatly took him to the ground, covering him with his body. He pinned Dill’s hands above his head, devastated his mouth, and tugged on his pants until he finally took hold of his cock.

  “I want you too, Dill. All the time,” Mason admitted between deep, plunging kisses.

  Mason left his mouth to nip his shoulder, then claim Dill’s nipple through his shirt. He tortured it deliciously between his teeth, simultaneously stroking Dill’s cock with a punishingly tight fist and rough thumbing of his slit on every up pull.

  Pain and pleasure tumbled over themselves. There wasn’t a twink alive who’d taken over his body the way Mason did. There wasn’t another man in existence who could take over his heart the way Mason was.

  His chest burned with the longing to po
ssess Mason the same way, to be let in to Mason’s breaking heart and fill it for him. His body fractured its ability to focus between voracious teeth and insatiable fist.

  Mason left Dill’s hands above his head and tracked down with scoring nails, lifted Dill’s shirt and bared him to Mason’s sucking lips across his pectoral to his ribs while his busy fingers twisted the unattended nipple.

  Dill cried out as he felt the landslide of orgasm begin.

  “Don’t fight it. Show me what you got.”

  Mason’s hot breath puffed across his bare flesh. He moved lower, suckling Dill’s abdomen and pumping harder. His teeth caught the slim line of hair to his belt and tugged.

  Dill’s cock jerked, spurted in a rush of pleasure so hard, flashes burst behind his closed eyelids, and his balls felt like they’d rolled up into his body. Mason let go of everything, sank lower, taking Dill’s pants down to take his cock into his mouth.

  Pleasure filled him and he groaned at the sensation of Mason’s hard sucks along his entire length, swallowing the traces of Dill’s cum. Then he took Dill’s balls in his mouth, rolling them on his tongue and cleaning them. With small licks and kisses, Mason finished, then tucked him safely away.

  “I always put my toys away when I’m done with them,” Mason teased.

  Dill still gasped for breath. “I was hoping you shared your toys, too.”

  Mason climbed up Dill’s body, but held himself over him. He smiled down. “You should see the look on your face when I surprise you. Hell, you should see the look on your face when you come. It’s pretty as a picture.”

  Dill cocked an eyebrow. “I’ve never been accused of being pretty.”

  “You have a great mug.”

  “Sage has a great mug. I have an eyesore,” Dill countered.

  “I saw Sage. He’s hot.”

  Dill threw a light punch to Mason’s gut. “He’s taken.”

  “So are you as long as you’re helping me,” Mason said, his tone turning serious.

  “Why does that sound like an exchange of services?”

  The wall went up behind Mason’s eyes. “Because it is.”

  Oh, God. Dill closed his eyes on the pain. He couldn’t school his features because of the depth of disappointment and hurt searing his chest. He’d been thinking Mason had finally figured it out. That Mason had finally decided it was okay to want him. But he’d only been securing Dill’s services.

  “Head in exchange for information,” he said, forcing the words up his constricted throat.

  “I might be getting the better deal. Your gnarly cock feels great in my mouth.”

  It was a conciliatory statement. He must have seen the hurt Dill couldn’t hide. Dill looked back at him. He just hoped he survived Mason.

  “Then I guess the information I gave you was pretty fucking awesome considering the payment you just delivered.”

  Mason’s smile disappeared. “Yeah. Something like that.”

  “Good. Let’s get to Carla’s and see if I can work out the freezing thing. If nothing else, we’ll be in good position when it does happen again.” Dill pushed him with all the frustration he was feeling, and rolled to his feet. Dusting his ass off, he walked toward the car. “C’mon.”

  He didn’t bother to look back to see if Mason followed him.

  * * * *

  Could he regret being an asshole and continue to be that asshole anyway? Mason wondered. He watched Dill’s confident stride, liked the controlled authority in it. He was a massive combination of height and shoulders and power, presence that seemed summed up by his unconscious swagger. His sheer presence would suggest zero vulnerability, but he’d been vulnerable for Mason. Openly so, and that was a characteristic that didn’t seem to match the quiet, slightly distant façade Dill kept in place.

  Could he believe that Dill would stick around no matter what he found out about Mason? What would gazing into his rugged face look like when Dill discovered that Mason had a juvenile record for breaking and entering, theft and once, possession of marijuana? He thought Dill would look stony. The way he did when he tried to close off his feelings after Mason had said something especially harsh.

  Mason had joined a gang in his early twenties, too. He’d still be there if it hadn’t been for tag-along Diego trying to get himself initiated with a jump-in. Only, his gang jumped-in with steel-toed boots and all the guys kicking or hitting at the same time. The thought of Diego taking on eight of them at once had chilled him to the bone. Leaving the gang had taken another two years of drive by shootings, muggings, tire slashing, and home invasions before they finally got the point that nothing would scare Mason back in.

  He hadn’t told Dill. Nor had he told him that the apartment at the end of the alley where he lived had made drive-bys impossible and sneak attacks unlikely. He no longer drove a car and he was used to the occasional drunken and bitter fistfights when one of the old guard decided to test his resolve.

  He could have told Dill that gang beat downs weren’t unfamiliar to him. That this could be more of the same, except he didn’t recognize the crew. It also wouldn’t have been the first time a gang was sent to rein him in, either. But telling Dill that might have ended the constant watch, and Mason hadn’t seen anything to discourage that notion.

  Dill watched him because he believed Mason was in danger. If he knew it was only more of the same old thing, he’d shrug it off and leave. Leaving was the last thing he wanted Dill to do. It was also the only thing he could do, or he’d end up sorry he’d ever met Mason. He didn’t want that. He wanted Dill to want him and leave wanting him, to never know what a fuck up he was.

  Dill reached his car and looked back. He looked guarded, watchful, kind of stiff. Mason winced knowing he’d done that. Then steeling himself for more of Dill’s intoxicating presence, he trudged to the car.

  He never should have touched Dill. Never should have kissed him or tasted him. Should have walked away and not let the promise in Dill’s eyes grip him the way it had. He’d been unable to resist having Dill on the grass because of it.

  I’d like to say I’m the guy who’ll catch you in that rabbit hole. But he wasn’t. Not his kind. His kind filled the void of population between the decent, worthy, important kind. The world changing kind that he’d never had a membership card for.

  What Dill needed was to leap over the societal cesspit that Mason filled and find solid ground with a solid guy.

  Don’t apologize. Let him think you don’t care. It’ll be easier for him to move on. And maybe he could fuck the longing from his system in the meantime. He glanced at Dill again. Yeah, like there’s any chance of that happening.

  “Ready?” Dill asked.

  Mason nodded abruptly.

  They’d been sitting around the corner from Carla’s office for going on twenty-four hours. There’d been no movement in or out, and the silence between them had not only grown pregnant but had delivered and become a grandparent. The car felt loaded with missed conversations and bruised egos.

  Rain drummed the windshield faster, making their view from the front blurred. Out Mason’s side window, they watched ill-prepared businessmen and women dart into buildings and dodge wheel spray.

  “Fifty bucks that chick gets it,” Mason said, nodding at the woman waiting at a bus stop across the street.

  “She’s standing on the curb. No bet.” They’d been filling the awkward moments betting make-believe money on traffic spray victims. This victim stood the perfect distance from a huge puddle.

  Mason snorted when she stepped to safety, seconds before getting a dousing. “Shoulda taken the bet.”

  “Did those strippers your mom ordered ever arrive?” Mason asked, after a moment.

  “Yep. My sisters had a great time.”

  “Did you?”

  “I didn’t stick around after you left,” he remarked.

  “Where did you go?”

  “Home.”

  “Alone?” Mason asked, looking out the window.

  “W
ould it matter?” Dill willed him to say it did.

  “No, I guess not.”

  Dill swallowed the bitterness and tried for a light tone. “Good, because there was this little guy who’s been trying to get my attention for weeks. I decided to give him a fucking he wouldn’t forget.”

  Mason jerked to look at him. “Serious?”

  Dill frowned. “Show me your cock.”

  “What the fuck for?”

  “I want to see it when I’m not too frozen to enjoy the view,” Dill said. “Fuck it. Just strip down again and rub yourself like you did at the cabin.”

  “You’re mocking me,” Mason muttered.

  “A little.”

  “Did you fuck the twink, or didn’t you?”

  “Have you seen your naked self? How the fuck can I fuck some twink when fucking SuperFuck has just sucked my dick, fucked my ass, and fucking stomped my pride into the fucking mud?” Dill snapped.

  Relief loosened Mason’s lips.

  “Fuck,” Dill muttered. He sure as hell hadn’t intended that Mason feel good about what he’d done to Dill.

  “Maybe you gave the twink a mad-fuck. The kind of fuck you’re mentally yelling fuck you about to some other guy. Or maybe you felt like being the player and fucked the twink’s hole while thinking of some other guy’s ass,” Mason offered.

  “And whose ass might that be?”

  “How the fuck should I know? He’s your twink.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “You’re making me hard,” Mason teased.

  “Fuck you, more,” Dill said, but the short chuckle in the words took the sting out of them.

  “That’s it, Dilly-bear. Say it again.”

  “Don’t fucking call me Dilly-bear.”

  Mason unzipped his fly and pulled out his stiff, flushed cock. “That’s it, babe. Say it again.”

  “Pedestrians,” Dill said, choking over the warning as he watched Mason lower the seatback and begin stroking himself.

  “Say it,” he demanded. He rocked his head to the side, looking at Dill through slitted eyes.

  “Indecent exposure?”

  Mason let go of his cock and put his hands behind his head. “I want to get off, Dill. I want to get off, bad.” He inhaled sharply. “In fact. I want to get off so bad I think you should punish it. Slap it around for me.”