It was tentative at first, but slowly he responded to me. His mouth slid open and I slipped my tongue between his parted lips. One hand settled itself at his waist, the other slid into his hair, cupping the back of his head. The taste of him made me groan, certain that he had to be the sweetest thing I’d ever tasted in my life. Kissing Mack had always been hurried and heated, his mouth plundering my own in lusty demand. With Mason, his tongue met my own in a dance so delicate and gentle it felt like a butterfly.
I let him set the pace, continuing to kiss him gently for several minutes, then pulling away for a moment to give both of us a chance to catch our breaths. I swallowed hard, taking in the shy grin and beautiful abandon I saw on his face. He looked so incredibly fuckable at that moment: His hair was tousled from my gentle explorations, his cheeks were pink with arousal instead of embarrassment, his eyes still half-lidded with lust. I wanted to drink him in, bring him screaming my name, but I knew there were still some words we needed to say.
“Mason, you had nothing to apologize for last night. I was apologizing to you, and doing a poor job of it, apparently,” I chuckled wryly. “I was trying to say that I was the one who should have stopped—I should have made sure it was okay. When I said it was out of line, I meantIwas out of line, not you.”
“Oh…” he said, his voice soft in wonder. “Oh! Seriously?” He asked, his eyes wide in surprise.
I nodded.
Something occurred to me then, something that might explain the awkwardness and confusion I’d seen on Mason’s face, and his reactions over the past couple of days. Thinking back to how he’d behaved today, how awkward and confused he’d been…
Given the life he’d had with Ricky and Dreyven, I knew Mason was no virgin. If nothing else, the medical reports from the doctors at the hospital confirmed that. When they’d thought I was family, the doctors at the hospital had detailed some of the trauma he had undergone over the years from his sexual partners.
“Mason…” I began, stopping for a moment, debating if I should ask or not, but decided ultimately it was probably the smartest thing to do, for both of us.
“Mason have you… have you ever had sex… ever had a lover?” I amended.
The sudden pallor and hitch in his breathing told me more than the slight shake to his head.
“It’s… complicated,” he said, sighing. “I guess the answer to that is yesandno…”
“Fuck.” I said, stepping back and taking a deep breath. “Let’s slow down—”
“No.” He said firmly, his hand gripping my shirt and tugging me in closer to him.
“No, I… Iwantthis, Lee,” he said firmly. “I wantthis—” his hand gestured back and forth in the space between us. “I want this. Whatever this connection is between us. Whatever the reason is that I feel safe in your company, and know somehow that you would never, ever willingly hurt me. I want… you.” He said, his voice deepening as he spoke.
“But… there are some things that I want, no,needto talk to you about… to explain…” His voice trailed off, uncertainty plain in both face and voice.
“You don’t owe me anything, Mason,” I began. “You don’t owe anyone explanations.”
A small smile played on his lips.
“I know… my therapist has told me that. But I also know there are things you—things I want you to know,” he said. “It might help explain some things… Like where I come from, and why I’m such a freak.” His smile disappeared and his eyes darted away from my face.
He looked so sad, but so determined, I would have done anything in that moment to make him smile again. I wanted to just say “I know,” and help him avoid all this. If I did that, though, I’d have to explain how I knew, and the fear of how he would react when he found out I had been a customer, one of the men who had paid to have sex with him, so I kept my lips sealed. True, I hadn’t known he was underage, or close to it at the time, but still…
“You’re not a freak,” I said, my voice brooking no argument. “How about we go sit in the living room?” I suggested.
He nodded his agreement and we went to the other room. On the way in, I turned the other lights down low and lit the gas fire. This fireplace wasn’t just for looks, I could feel the warmth of the blaze as I took a seat next to Mason on the couch, doing my best not to crowd him.
The light from the fire cast golden highlights on some parts of hisface, deep shadows on other parts. The few minutes apart seemed to have brought back some of his nerves. He sat down on the far end of the couch, his knees drawn up to his chest, his fingers worried at frayed spots on his jeans, and as I saw his hands clench and unclench, this time I recognized the signs of an impending panic attack.
“Mason,” I said. When he didn’t react immediately, I said his name again, a little louder.“Mason!”
He jumped at my sharp tone and glanced at me quickly before looking away. The fear in his face made my heart stop. I never wanted this man afraid of me.
“Hey,” I said soothingly, lowering my voice and laying a hand gently on his knee. “It’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it. We don’t have to do anything you aren’t ready for,” I said, leaning forward and laying a gentle kiss on his forehead.
“But I also want you to know that nothing you could tell me—nothing,” I emphasized, squeezing his knee gently, “—can change what I think about you,” I said. Then throwing caution to the winds, “How Ifeelabout you.”
He nodded stiffly, but still didn’t relax, his eyes still darting all over the room, jumping from bookshelf to fireplace to end table, anywhere but at me. I wasn’t even sure he had heard what I said.
“Okay,” I said, “That’s enough of that.”
I turned sideways on the couch and slid an arm under him. Mason yelped as, with one fluid movement, I scooted his body up against mine, my legs along either side of his. Just like I’d held him after his panic attack at the motel. For a minute he stayed rigid against me, then slowly began to relax.
“Better?” I asked, a hint of nerves in my belly.
