by Amy Lane
“Nungh….”
“And I brought lube.” Terry reached to the tangle of clothes and pulled a small bottle out of the pocket of his sweats. “See?” He punctuated that with a lick across Mason’s cockhead, digging his tongue into the slit as he went.
“Ohh….” Mason’s whole body was shaking and on fire. He didn’t care. Something—something—had to give.
“So I’m pretty sure I can—nungh!—sit on your cock without hurting you,” Terry panted, and Mason opened his eyes in time to watch him reach back, fingers coated in lube, and start to prep himself.
“Can I watch you do that?” he begged.
Terry smiled wickedly, but he didn’t do what Mason asked. “Do what?” He grunted, humping backward, probably fucking his own fingers, damn him. “Watch me stretch my asshole out?”
“Yeah.”
“Does that turn you on?”
“Yeah!”
“Well, tough,” Terry moaned, his hand moving quickly. “I’m going to get up and sit on your cock and fuck myself on it, and all you can do is thrust up when I tell ya!”
“Oh God,” Mason moaned, loving Terry taking charge, loving his dirty talk, loving that he was at this man’s mercy. “Yes. I’ll fuck you on command, you little shit. Just sit on me, dammit, please!”
Terry laughed and scooted up until he was straddling Mason’s hips. He sat, catching Mason’s cock in the cleft of his bottom, and rocked back and forth, taunting them both.
Mason arched his head back and thrust up, knowing he was being teased and enjoying it. Terry’s entrance, slick and open, caught the ridge under Mason’s bell, and again, and again, until Mason groaned.
“I’m gonna come,” he threatened. “Gonna make you a big mess, and you’re gonna be left high—ahh….”
Terry rose on his knees and positioned Mason’s cock at his entrance, the lube and the stretching giving them purchase. Terry slid down slowly, his face slack with concentration.
Down… down… so tight, warm and satiny—oh, to be inside somebody, it was almost sacred.
Not almost.
It was glory.
Terry came to a trembling halt flush against Mason’s body, and for a moment they regarded each other soberly. Terry’s hair, clean and soft, fell over one eye, and his lips were parted as he breathed in quick pants. Mason ran his palms up Terry’s thighs, his soft-skinned stomach, his tender ribs, and Terry gasped, falling forward and rocking in small, controlled movements.
“You feel so good,” Terry moaned, rocking faster. Mason cupped his shoulders, his neck. For a moment he held his bright-eyed harlequin face between both hands. Terry started to hump frantically then, losing his rhythm, and Mason seized his hips and took over.
“Stay right there,” he gritted, using his good foot for leverage and his core for strength. With Terry suspended above him, he started to rocket his hips up and back, not low enough to fall out and not high enough to really smack into Terry’s ass.
Terry lowered himself just enough and sobbed, “Mason, harder.”
Oh yeah. Harder.
He pumped his hips with everything he had, and Terry’s cock flopped on his stomach, leaving a wet smack mark with every thrust. Terry was leaning slightly forward, hands on Mason’s ribs as he steadied himself. Mason thought that if his stomach muscles held out, they could do this all day, but he only did so many crunches in the morning, so they’d better wrap it up.
“Terry,” he gasped, not slowing. “Can you jerk off for me? I want to see it, baby. Just stroke it. Come on my stomach, okay?”
Terry nodded, dreamlike, but he sat up a little and took charge of his own body again. He wrapped his fist around his girthy cock and squeezed hard enough to turn the head purple. Then he stroked slowly up.
Watching the slow progress of that stroke while Mason was rabbit-fucking him from the bottom was one of the most excruciatingly awesome moments in Mason’s sex life.
“Don’t slow down,” Terry begged, going back for another stroke.
“Killing me!” Mason breathed, but what a way to go.
Stroke by slow goddamned stroke—and Mason’s stomach muscles burned and his ankle ached, and God, he just wanted to feel that clench around his cock. Terry’s cock was swollen, weeping precome, and it was murder to see it so close and not to taste it.
But Terry kept begging for Mason to keep fucking, and Mason wouldn’t stop unless his heart exploded.
Then Mason shifted his angle just… right… there. Damn! His cock hit the spot, the spot, the magical prostate spot, and Terry’s throaty, gutsy scream reverberated around the first floor of the house. He convulsed, asshole tightening around the base of Mason’s cock as come spurted, hard and hot, across Mason’s stomach, chest, and chin.
Mason closed his eyes at the last minute—you only made that mistake a couple of times before you just gave it up—but the image of Terry’s face, wanton, unguarded, lost in orgasm, seared across his eyelids as he exploded into climax.
Ahh—augh! He could not seem to stop coming, even as Terry collapsed across his chest, limp and mewling for breath.
Finally—finally—Mason stopped rutting inside that slim, fine body, and Terry gave an exhausted whoop and let Mason fall out.
Come leaked out of Terry’s ass and began to trickle down Mason’s balls, and Mason made a mental note to clean the throw pillow under his hips before anyone else sat on the couch. It was the only thought he had for a few.
“Thought I was gonna have jizz spurting out my eyeballs,” Terry panted into the silence.
“That was impressive,” Mason admitted. “You know we’re arc-welded together with spunk, right? When you sit up, all my chest hair’ll rip out.”
Terry laughed helplessly. “Well, I’ll have to stay here awhile.”
“Fine with me—you’re the one who’s going to get cold.”
“Damn.”
They breathed together, their bodies remembering what to do after the cosmic reboot of orgasm, and then Terry nuzzled his ear. “That’s another first,” he whispered.
“Riding a guy like a show pony?” Mason asked, smiling.
Terry shook his head, unexpectedly serious. “Getting to boss someone around,” he said, regarding Mason with his squirrel-bright brown eyes. “You… you let me have power, you know? I didn’t know I could be that guy. It’s great.”
“I enjoyed it too,” Mason said weakly, and Terry pushed up for the kiss.
Mason wrapped his arms around that narrow back and took him in, kissing back, allowing Terry to take the lead while protecting him from the chill.
When they were done, both breathless again, Terry pulled back and grinned. “I’m going to need another shower.”
“Me too. And I need to clean the couch.”
Terry winced. “Yeah—don’t want someone sitting on that cushion. Awkward. How ’bout you limp upstairs, and I’ll clean up this shit here. I’ll join you in the shower and we can watch some more soccer in your room.”
“You make good plans,” Mason said sincerely. “I couldn’t get much past ‘I just had sex and it was awesome.’”
Terry tilted his head back and laughed, and then kissed Mason thoroughly one more time for good measure. “It was awesome, right?” he asked, suddenly worried.
Mason nodded with all the enthusiasm in his soul. “Definitely. Why?”
Terry shook his head and looked down, studying Mason’s ear with great intensity.
“What?” Mason prompted, jiggling them both.
“I just… I’ve never done that either. Had sex that got better. Usually I get hot for someone, and we do it, and… then that’s it. And if we try again, it’s awkward and suddenly I want more from it. But you? Every time has been more. Every time we’re together, it’s different. And you look at me….” Terry shook his head and then buried his face against Mason’s neck.
Mason wrapped his arms even tighter. “Like how?” he asked, kissing the edge of Terry’s ear. He had holes along the rim like he’
d worn studs at one time, but not now.
“Like I matter,” Terry said, turning his head sideways so they could look into each other’s eyes. “You look at me like I matter. Like my opinion, and the things I say, and whether the sex is good for me—like it all matters.”
Mason’s eyes burned with the truth of that. “You do,” he admitted, raw and open and naked in his living room. “It does.”
Terry nodded and blinked rapidly, then rolled off Mason and turned to help him sit up. “Here, let me put your boxers on,” he said. He slid them up, gentle and mindful of Mason’s wrapped ankle, and then heaved Mason to his feet and gave him his crutches. He managed all of that without making eye contact, and Mason sighed in exasperation.
“Terry?”
Terry shook his head and looked away.
“Baby, look at me.”
Reluctantly he turned back toward Mason, eyes limpid in the falling light of late afternoon.
“It was important to me too,” Mason told him, knowing it was foolish to say this so soon, after so little between them. But dammit, he already knew there wasn’t much he wouldn’t do to spend an afternoon this way. Even if it involved soccer on television and throw pillows that needed washing.
Terry nodded, wiping his palm under his eyes, one at a time. “I’m not sure I can trust that yet,” he apologized. “But the way it makes my heart feel—that’s new too.”
Mason pulled him against his chest for a moment and then wobbled. Terry helped him get his balance—and apparently achieved his own in the process.
“Go,” he said, voice firm. “It’ll take you forever. I’ll be there before you even get in the shower, probably.”
Mason nodded. “Bring up snacks and water and stuff,” he said, starting toward the stairs. “We’ll build a fort and watch TV and pretend we’re six.”
“I never did that when I was six,” Terry said, and Mason half turned toward him.
“Dane and I did that whenever it rained. Mom would give us Kool-Aid, and lace her own with vodka, and we’d have a good time.”
Terry laughed then, hard, and Mason turned around and left him to it.
THEY SPENT most of the day in bed, taking turns with the remote and catching each other up on their favorite movies. They’d pause and talk and then start again, Mason sitting up on the bed and Terry lying with his head on Mason’s stomach so Mason could play with his hair.
They were in the middle of Office Space when Terry started talking, blindly, without reference to what was happening on television or even their last topic.
“See, I think the thing is, my mom, she just never had anybody tell her there was a world like this. Like she could take a class and get a better life. I mean, this movie, all these guys took college and they got a better job—and it made them not appreciate it, I think, because they’re really unhappy. But she doesn’t know any of it. As far as she’s concerned, all of the nice jobs, the nice clothes, the good things—those are for other people. She gave up on those when I was born.”
“You’re not the reason she’s unhappy,” Mason said, his heart aching a little.
Terry turned his head and smiled up into Mason’s eyes. “I know that,” he said. “Now. I mean, even just a couple of times, I think I made you really happy. And you’re like, part of this whole other life. I don’t know the password or the secret handshake to get me into the whole other life—all I know how to be is nice to you.”
“That’s my favorite secret handshake,” Mason said, pulling Terry’s hair back from his forehead. Gah! His face was so young, so pretty and vulnerable—Mason felt unworthy, oafish and gawky, just looking at him.
Thank God Terry’s earthy laugh came next. The laugh that made Mason’s cock and heart swell, both at the same time. “You’re sort of easy, you know that?” he asked. “As long as someone grabs your dick, you’re happy.”
“And yet so few takers before you came along.”
“And I don’t get that.” Terry scrambled up so he could rest his head on Mason’s shoulder. “I mean, why wouldn’t people like a nice guy like you?”
Mason shrugged, careful not to dislodge him. “There’s not really a premium on niceness,” he said, hating to whine. “People like the aggressive corporate type or the guy who likes to talk a lot. I just….” He grimaced. “I guess I only care about being nice to people who are nice to me back. I’m horrible at kissing ass at work—seriously. The reason Mrs. Bradford and I get along so well is that she looks at my schedule and tells me who’s an asshole and who I should bother to talk to. Then I work with those people and we get stuff done. It’s not that hard, really.”
“Yeah, it just took an MBA,” Terry said dryly. “I don’t even know how you went to school for so long.”
Mason thought of Todd Slezcyk and snorted. “I was trying to get laid. It’s how most of us made it through school, you knew that, right?”
Terry gave a long, slow blink. “That had never occurred to me,” he said. “You mean people spend as much time thinking about sex as I do?”
Snort. “God, no. Just me, I think. Because I’ve been looking my whole life to find someone who thinks an afternoon in bed is as awesome as a hike to a farmer’s market to find organic brussels sprouts or something.”
“Please tell me you’re kidding.” The horror on Terry’s face would have been comical if Mason hadn’t spent too many weekends like that with Ira to count.
“My last ex had a thing for organic produce and cooking stuff—I mean, I get new recipes and all, but God! Shopping! Why?”
Terry chuckled. “I don’t really have exes. There’s guys I’ve fucked and you.”
Mason looked at him. Just looked at him until he squirmed as he sat.
“You’re better,” he clarified.
“So glad to hear that.” Mason kissed the top of his head and then asked the thing that had been pressing on his chest forever. “Can you leave her? Can you move out? Do you want to be a grown-up bad enough to do that?”
Terry took a deep breath, and then another, and then a third. Every time he let out a breath, he collapsed a little more, becoming part of the landscape of Mason’s chest. “Yeah,” he said after the last breath. “I’m going to start cleaning up her house. When she gets to a place where she can take care of herself, I’ll get myself an apartment or something.” Terry looked up at him hopefully. “And then we can have lots more days like this one.”
Mason smiled widely. That sounded like a plan.
But it must not have been wide enough.
“Is your brother going to be okay not at home?” Terry asked tentatively. “Because most of you is here with me, but some of you is….”
“Worried,” Mason supplied. “And I’m sorry.” He grimaced. “This might be a good time to tell you that the worry never goes away. Dane will be dealing with this for his entire life, and I’m going to be worrying for him that long. Even if he finds someone, you know?”
“Yeah, but if he finds someone, then you got a cocaptain, right? Someone you can work with who’s not Mom and Dad?”
Mason remembered the helpless anger from that morning and the incessant anxiety that came from trying to monitor his brother’s anxiety levels.
“Yeah,” he admitted. “A team approach would be nice. It’s just so private. You know, my boyfriend and then Dane’s, when he gets one. It would just be okay to not feel alone.”
“Not alone,” Terry whispered. “I can’t promise much, but for right now, not alone.”
They were quiet then, and Mason reached for the remote to turn the movie back on when Terry stopped him by putting an ear to his chest.
“I can hear your heart,” he said, a smile in his voice.
“It’s beating special just for you,” Mason said, not sure if he should be proud of that line or cringe.
“It’s warm, just for me,” Terry said.
“Course.”
He hit Play on the movie and Terry stayed there, listening to the warm beat of his heart.
<
br /> At around six they went downstairs and warmed up some soup for dinner, and then they went back upstairs, where a lazy hand job turned into an intense sixty-nine that left them both breathless. Terry went and got a washcloth and wiped Mason down, his motions efficient and gentle.
And that turned into a kiss.
Which turned into Mason propping one knee on the bed while he stood up and fucked Terry into the mattress from behind.
Terry’s noisy hollers as he came made Mason very glad Dane wasn’t there. Something about how uninhibited he was, how eager he was to enjoy what they were doing, made the sex…
Amazing.
And exhausting. Mason was sort of glad when they finished off that last time. He thought he might be starting to chafe. When Terry collapsed limply on the bed, giggling, Mason figured he’d had his limit too.
“You okay?” Mason asked, nuzzling his ear.
“I had no idea,” Terry whispered, turning to look at him.
“No idea what?”
“That you could literally fuck yourself out. I’ve never felt like I could have enough.”
Mason tried not to look disappointed. “Well, I mean, today we’re sort of done,” he conceded.
“Yeah, I know. But tomorrow, we could do this again!”
Mason rolled his eyes. “If we weren’t cleaning your backyard.”
Terry hid his face. “Augh!”
They got dressed again and watched more movies, entertaining each other in a thousand somnolent ways.
Dane got in around nine, and Mason went downstairs to greet him. He looked tired but calm and maybe, possibly, happy.
“Good day?” Mason asked, hopping toward the fridge for the chocolate milk.
“Good company,” Dane said quietly. “Carpenter’s good company, you know that.”
Mason did. He figured he and Skip and Carpenter would be having a lot more lunches together. “Were the kids okay?”
Dane’s smile lit up the kitchen. “Yeah. They were awesome. Apparently Carpenter’s sister and her husband are leaving for a stint with Doctors Without Borders in June. Carpenter and his parents are on for babysitting—that’ll be fun.”