Will strokes Owen’s cheek. “I won’t ever tell you what you can or cannot say. And thank you.”
“I know I might seem mellow, like I’m okay with what you’ve told me, but I’m not. It takes me some timeto process things.”
“I understand. Take all the time you need. And if you need to keep some distance from me—”
“That sounds like the last thing I need.” He lets out a long breath. “I feel lighter after telling you what happened. I didn’t think I’d ever share it with anyone.”
“I won’t abuse your trust.”
“I know. Can I slip my hand underneath your shirt?”
The way Owen looks at him makes it clear he now understands why Will appreciated him asking before touching. “You can.”
Owen’s hand is warm as it travels from Will’s stomach up to his chest. His palm rests above Will’s heart.
“I don’t understand something,” Owen says. “About Nate. He told me those things and warned me about you, but he also acted friendly with you at Rodie’s. You went to help him with that leak.”
Unfortunately, Will can’t control the increasing beating of his heart underneath Owen’s palm. “Nate and I aren’t friends, and don’t ever count on him to care about anyone but himself. Would it be okay if I ask you to leave it at that?”
Owen hesitates before saying, “Okay.”
“And I have another request. I might change my mind later, but I would like for you to stop asking before touching me.”
Owen frowns, and Will can’t blame his confusion. “I want to try giving you the freedom to touch.”
“But I understand now why you like it when I ask.”
“Then you should also understand that I don’t want to compare you to Joel. When he touched, it felt like he was claiming ownership. It’s not the same with you.”
Instead of speaking, Owen moves his hand underneath Will’s shirt, finding his left nipple and pinching it. In an instant, Will’s cock stirs in his jeans. He tilts his head to meet Owen’s soft lips. His breath is sweet, his tongue so skillful. As they kiss, Owen’s hand goes everywhere. It feels wonderful to trust someone again this way, though Will still feels edgy, like he’s trying out a new language he’s eager to get right. Old instincts make him feel as though he’s being used, but he fights those instincts since they don’t represent the truth.
“Can I show you something?” Owen asks.
“Sure.”
He reaches for his backpack and pulls out a sketchbook, the cover made of brown leather. He holds it close to his chest as he sits with his legs crossed, biting his lower lip as if debating what to do.
“What’s wrong?” Will asks.
“I’m worried you’ll think it’s weird.”
“So? Art can be beautiful and weird.” It feels odd for him to make such a comment, since he knows nothing about art, but he should start to know more since it’s an important part of Owen’s life.
“Okay, I’ll show you. You have the right.”
The right?Will moves to sit next to Owen, watchingas he opens the cover.
“I drew some of these before I… saw you in all your glory, so I don’t want to show you the old ones. I worked on new ones after the evening of the book club.” Owen flips through the pages and lands on a drawing that makes Will smile.
“That’s…”
“Your chest.”
“The details… wow.”
“It’s hard getting hair right. Also…” He flips to another page that shows Will’s stomach, with his narrow treasure trail.
“Those are…”
