Page 74 of Summer Lessons
God. Please let him keep it together—as settled into routine as he and Terry had become, Mason was positive he was one harsh word, one accidental blurt away from scaring him off forever.
He got to the house to find Terry waiting on the doorstep, sandwich bag in hand.
“I’m going to shower first,” he said with a quick peck on Terry’s cheek. “I still have game-stink on me.”
Terry scowled, putting the sandwiches on the counter. “You still got gamemadon you. I don’t know who you think you’re kidding.”
“About what?” Mason let him in and followed him to the kitchen, pulling out the potato-leek soup he’d made the night before, just for their Saturday together. “Here—let me set this up to warm.”
“No—we’ll eat it later.” Terry took the soup out of his hands and put it back in the refrigerator, surprising him.
“Why later?” Mason mumbled, and then Terry turned toward him and kissed him, hard, almost angry, shoving him back against the counter and shoving his hands up Mason’s shirt to pinch his nipples.
“Mm?” Mason tried to pull back. Enthusiastic—yes. But never angry, never harsh.
“Shut up and use me,” Terry snarled. “You gotta do it to someone, you might as well do it to me.”
“Not to you,” Mason said, trying to take a stand. His hand shook, but he managed to caress the skin of Terry’s cheeks with his fingertips.I love you.“Never to you.”
Terry’s face contorted into a battle sneer. “That’s why I’m best for the job.” And then he climbed Mason like a tree, wrapping his legs solidly around Mason’s hips and capturing Mason’s mouth again.
God,Mason wanted. He cupped his hands under Terry’s thighs and walked him to the stairs. Part of him was surprised his weak ankle didn’t roll, but his cock—which felt like most of his functioning brain—was screamingI WANT!And Mason couldn’t say no.
Terry wriggled out of his arms at the bottom of the stairs and hauled ass up, shouting, “Hurry, Mason, or I’ll finish myself.”
Mason was halfway up when the image hit him, Terry, lying in his bed, one hand on his cock, the other fiddling behind him, stretching himself, making him ready. Mason’s vision went red, possessiveness sweeping through him.
Mine!
All of the juggling with words, the not trying to scare anybody, not trying to hurt anybody, trying to understand. Suddenly Mason justwanted—wanted to possess his lover like a cave man, wanted to take him, toown him—wanted no words or ideas between them, no other people.
He hurtled up the stairs like a meteor, arriving just in time to see Terry shimmy out of his jersey and shuck his shorts.
Mason didn’t remember taking off his own clothes, but by the time he got to the bed, Terry was bent over the mattress, lubed fingers prepping himself, dilated, slick, and open.
Mason drove himself inside like a bullet, Terry’s cry of pleasure/pain one of the sexiest things Mason had heard in his life.
It was the last thing he remembered hearing for a while, as he surged into his lover like a freight train, roaring and swearing, screaming “Mine!” whenever he could find breath.
Terry lay beneath him, panting, moaning “Yes, yes, yes—c’mon, Mason, give it to me!” and Mason gave and gave and fucking gave.
His climax seemed incidental in all of that fury, but when it rushed his spine and exploded outward, everything stopped—all the noise in the room, all the noise in his head, all the grief in his heart—and for that one moment, he lost himself in the beauty of orgasm, pouring his frustration into his lover’s body.
He collapsed forward then rolled sideways, trying to catch his breath. Terry was still mashed into the bed, his fist moving feverishly underneath him. Just when Mason realized that he hadn’t finished—was, in fact, chasing his own orgasm and maybe Mason should help—Terry let out a little “Oh!” and shuddered, his come hitting the bedspread beneath him.
And Mason realized what he’d done.
“Oh God,” he whispered as Terry smiled tiredly through his fall of hair. “Terry, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Terry said simply, shrugging. He wriggled up so he and Mason were facing each other. “It’s okay. I know how to take it like that.”
Oh hell. Mason had used him, like all of the other guys Terry had known.
“I’m so sorry,” he said again, his voice cracking. “I didn’t mean—I never would have—” Except he had, hadn’t he?
The smell of sex and sweat filled the room, and Mason came a breath away from rushing to the bathroom to throw up.
Terry’s fingertips on Mason’s cheekbones stopped him.
