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I woke up with a hint of headache creeping somewhere deep inside my skull. Mason lay tucked under my arm, his back pressed hard against my torso, and his butt fit beautifully on my crotch, our legs together, bent at the same angle. I groaned as Mason moved his hips a bit and my cock swelled. His long neck was inviting me to kiss it and there was nothing harder to resist in the whole world.
I let my lips touch his skin lightly and trailed his neck up to his ear.
Mason woke up with a giggle. It was the only way I ever wanted him to wake up. He should never wake up with a grunt or a sigh or even expressionless. I wanted him to smile from the moment his eyes opened.
“You could be making coffee,” he said lazily.
I pecked at his neck once again. “I just can’t let go of you.”
He giggled into the pillow and turned on his back, then stretched his arms high above his body. He was such a cub when he stretched, his spine curving, toes curling, chest rising. I let my hand slide down his torso and feel the bulge inside his tight briefs. But he only giggled again.
“You’re so naughty,” he murmured. “You’ll have to make coffee for a week now.”
I swallowed a sigh and dragged myself out of the bed after planting another kiss on Mason’s high cheekbone, then put on a pair of baggy sweatpants, adjusted my cock to be a little more discrete, and headed for the coffeemaker. The mess around the common space needed a thorough cleanup today, then one again tomorrow. I glanced around and wondered where we found the energy for all this.
It had been easier back when all I had to do was study. Lately, though, it drained me.
I took a deep breath and stretched, the edge of my T-shirt lifting up my stomach. That was how Quinn found me after he ushered a stranger out of his room and directed him to the apartment door.
“Stop, you’re going to blind me with all those shiny muscles,” he said and covered his eyes.
“Oi, one of these days I’ll get offended.” He passed by me and stole a cup of coffee.
I turned and poked his ribcage. “You know I always say it lovingly.”
His eyes rolled as he jerked out of my reach and carried the cup to the sectional. He turned the TV on and started shifting through the channels.
“Had a good night?” I asked as I poured coffee into two more cups.
“I knew better,” he sang. “Not to gossip, but someone as hot as Danny really should come with a set of skills or a warning tag.”
“Don’t be mean,” I scolded and made my way to the bedroom.
“Mean?” I heard him squawk from the living room. “I’m disappointed.”
Mason was up and dressed when I closed the door behind me. He sat at his desk and stared out the window, a work in progress in front of him, a pencil in his left hand. He kept running his thumb over the thick wrap covering his injured finger. “That smells delicious,” he said without breaking his focus.
Sometimes, when he was working, he got like this. I loved watching him zone out and disappear from the real world, all the while creating the most stunning works I’d ever seen.
This was his third and final year of studies, and with each passing week he was getting better at it.
He was a proper artist now.
Stark lines and crude shading on the paper in front of Mason triggered an image of the trenches from a different century. I placed the cup on the edge of the desk and squeezed my boy’s shoulder, then kissed his long neck.
He looked up and smiled. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” I said. “I love you so much.”
The twinkle in his eye grew brighter before he turned away and stared out the window again.
I slacked for half an hour, had my fill, kissed Mason goodbye, and headed for the swimming pool. I’d neglected my body for the entire week, and the craving for action grew with every day.
Cars crowded the small parking lot when I reached the center, so I navigated my way to an open spot and hopped out of the car with my backpack hanging over one shoulder. Just as I reached the entrance, a familiar face emerged.
“Am I imagining, or is that Jackson Jones?” I cried.
He chortled and grabbed my hand for a handshake. “It’s been a while,” he said and shook his head.
“Months, man,” I said. “How are you? How’s Troy?”
He brightened as soon as I mentioned Troy. “He’s doing really great, acing it all.”
“I wouldn’t expect any less.” I shrugged. “What about you? I never took you for a swimmer.”
Jackson scratched the back of his head. “I’m not, but it’s the best I get to do. It helps clear my head and, you know, football isn’t an option anymore.”
“Nah, it’s all good,” he said. “I need something to keep me handsome.” He laughed out loud. “Frankly, I’d pick up gardening at this point if it helped.”
Jackson didn’t look bad at all. He was still the type I used to fall for; muscled, sexy, gorgeous face. “You’d look good in a straw hat,” I said.
He tapped my shoulder. “We should meet up, man. Maybe a double date or something.”
“A double date? That sounds like fun,” I said. It had been ages since Mason and I did anything fun. Lately, everything revolved around work, studies, and the endless craving for naps. This winter had taken a higher toll than those before. We enjoyed the snug afternoons in the bed or in front of the TV, but caving in every day left us with little time for anything else. “We have some catching up to do,” I said.
“More than some,” he said. “Don’t bail on me, man.”
We said goodbye, and I made my way to the changing room, took my clothes off, and put a pair of swimming shorts on. After a brisk shower, I checked myself in the mirror. I hadn’t exercised nearly as much as I’d wanted, but the consequences could have been worse. My torso remained muscled even after sitting at a desk for forty hours a week, but I wondered how long that would last.
A few swimmers raced back and forth in the vast pool, water splashed around them, their movements uneven. I half wanted to coach them right there and then, but decided against it. I’d lead by giving them an example instead.
With a flawless nosedive to start things off, I immersed myself fully and reached the depths of the pool. I headed for the surface, then. My limbs did the heavy work, but all my muscles reacted to the resistance.
I would swim for at least an hour today, repeat it tomorrow, and feel the ache for half the next week. Jackson’s words returned to me as I pushed myself harder. It helped him clear his head. I wondered if it would do the same to me or just clutter my brain further.
Left arm, right arm, left arm, breathe. I raced harder and faster. The clouds in my head thickened as I reach the pool’s midpoint, crossed it, and sped for the finish line. Energy burst out of me in consistent spikes. My muscles tensed and put in the hard work until I touched the edge of the pool and paused for a moment’s breath. Guys in swimming shorts sticking to their legs walked around the pool and my gaze darted from one to another. The swimmers’ bodies crowded the center and my head.
One young man stretched high on his toes, arms in the air. His torso curved and the wet shorts put his package on display for everyone. As I stared, my chest tightened. I closed my eyes shut as soon as control returned to me. My hand let go of the edge and I sank deep under the water and put out the fire that spread through my body.
I shouldn’t have stared.
There was only ever one person in this world I wanted to stare at, and it was Mason.
My baby boy’s slim figure flashed in front of my closed eyes and sparked my brain into full imagination mode. His slender fingers trailed my muscled chest and hooked on the edge of my shorts. He looked deep into my eyes, his lips quivered, and he said: “I want you.”
With a forceful push against the edge of the pool, I rocketed myself and swam for the other side. The pressure inside my shorts grew and my energy evaporated. Just as I reached the edge, I knew I wanted to go home. I wanted to shut the door behind me and take Mason in my arms, kiss him as passionately as I had over two years ago when he moved in with me, then turn the rest of the day into an endless collage of memories only he and I would share. We’d do it in the bed and on the floor and over the desk and against the wall.
I left the pool behind and sneaked away before anyone saw my hardening cock, locked the changing room, and peeled the wet shorts down my legs. My cock pulsed and swelled as I wiped my body dry, but I ignored it. Only when I dragged my boxers up and packed my cock firmly inside did, I let the palm of my hand touch the tip of it. The pressure spread up to my eyeballs and I groaned silently, then sped up dressing.
By the time I found Mason in our bed with a book in his hands, the moment had disappeared.
He radiated that innocent cuteness I loved when his gaze met mine. “That was quick.”
“I got tired faster than I’d expected,” I lied.
He closed the book and left it on the nightstand. “Cuddle me,” he said and spread his arms.
A smile spread across my face as I knelt on the bed and let my body crash on his; such a small thing, but so worthy of love. I wrapped my arms around him and held him tightly until he squirmed for air and giggled.
“This feels nice,” he whispered. I examined his face, then kissed his cheeks, then kissed his closed eyes. Those high cheekbones triggered the familiar protective feeling in me, and I reminded myself again that I held the love of my life in my arms. It didn’t matter if we’d become lazy or tired or incompatible in bed, so long as we loved each other this much.
I hope you enjoyed Leo’s intro in The Three Hearts Equation. The novel is coming on May 7, but it’s available for pre-order right now.Let's get in touch!