Page 117 of Home Grown Talent
“Fuck,” Mason gasped. He bucked against Owen, nipping at his earlobe as he muttered, “Take me to bed. Please.”
Owen shuddered and kissed him again, then began muscling him towards the bedroom, and God, but Mason loved that. Loved the uncompromising thrust of Owen’s body shoving him down the corridor, using his sheer bulk to move Mason along.
When they reached the bedroom, they practically tore each other’s clothes off, then crashed down onto the bed, Owen’s brawny body caging Mason in. He pressed his whole length against Mason so that they lay chest to chest, hip to hip, toe to toe, matched in height, if not in mass. Their faces were aligned too, Owen staring down at Mason, their noses brushing, their mouths just a whisper apart so that when Owen spoke, Mason felt the movement of his lips against his own.
“You’re so perfect for me,” Owen breathed.
The lump that appeared in Mason’s throat was huge and achy. He blinked. “Am I?”
“Yeah,” Owen breathed, his eyes soft with affection. “Brave and bright and funny… and a fucking amazing cook.”
He hadn’t even mentioned Mason’s looks, and somehow, that made Mason happier than anything.
He opened his mouth to point out how perfect Owen was too, but Owen was quicker, already swooping in for another kiss, and then they were moaning into each other’s mouths, their bodies shifting and realigning as their hips sought, then found, a perfect driving rhythm.
Mason toyed with tearing his mouth from Owen’s and demanding to be fucked, but he couldn’t bring himself to break that perfect kiss, and anyway, this felt too incredible to stop. So, when Owen’s big hand slid down between their bodies and took hold of both their cocks together, he only choked out a sob of pleasure and hooked an arm around Owen’s neck, holding on for the ride.
And Christ, but it was a beautiful ride.
Owen’s kiss was hard and consuming, his hand firm and demanding at once. He forced Mason to observe the pace he wanted, his steady, relentless strokes dragging from Mason a sudden and shuddering orgasm, one that broke over him just as Owen’s own cock erupted. Chests heaving, they spilled together, their spunk mingling between their bellies, sticky and warm.
Gradually, they stilled, their kisses growing soft and affectionate.
“That was fantastic,” Mason murmured against Owen’s lips. “But I’m going need you to fuck me too.”
Owen’s blue gaze was warm, the gorgeous crinkles at the corners of his eyes deepening with amusement. “You might still be in your twenties, angel, but I’m not. I’ll need a recovery period first.” Then he grinned wickedly. “But in the meantime, if you want me to eat you out till you come again, I can totally do that.”
Mason whimpered, and Owen laughed softly, kissing an affectionate path from Mason’s ear, down his jawline to his lips.
They kissed for a while longer, tender, laughing kisses, punctuated with nonsense love words. Then Owen sighed contentedly and rose from the bed, padding through to the bathroom to clean up.
“You stay there,” he said over his shoulder. “I’ll bring you a cloth.”
“Now, that’s what I call love,” Mason called after him. His grin felt so huge his face ached.
Once they were all cleaned up, and lying side by side in bed, facing each other, Owen said softly, “No one’s ever done anything for me like you did today.”
Mason quirked a half-smile. “You’re giving me too much credit. I should have come to my senses sooner than I did. I was so fixated on building my following, landing bigger brand deals, getting more work as though, if I finally got enough of those things, that would magically sort out all my problems and make me happy.”
“Yeah, well, I get why you thought that. Landing those big contracts and getting on TV would have meant a lot more money.” Owen’s expression was apologetic. “Do you think you’ll lose followers over this?”
“By the time the taxi dropped me off here, I’d already lost over a thousand,” Mason said, then chuckled at the horrified look on Owen’s face. “Oh, it’ll be way more than that by now. God only knows. Frankly, I don’t care.” He really didn’t. Nor did he care about the hundreds of other notifications and comments that had been piling up, or even the messages and voicemails he’d ignored from Frankie and his family.
Fuck it. All of that could wait. The only thing that mattered right now was him and Owen. Because, over the last week, Mason had discovered that what he wanted—more than a TV career or a million devoted followers, more than anything else—was a future with Owen.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” Owen said, his brows stitched together with worry. “I feel responsible. Is there anything I can do? I’m not much good at this stuff, but I’ll post anything you need, or even”—he grimaced—“make a video if you want.”
Mason laughed softly, but he shook his head. “No, I don’t want you to do any of that—I know you hate it, and besides, that stuff I said on TV today was only really for one person: you.”
“Yeah?” Owen whispered, his gaze very soft.
“Yeah,” Mason said. “And the fact that you heard me? That’s everything, Owen. It’s all that matters to me. So, no, I’m not going to try to mitigate the online damage or find some way of getting my side of the story out there.” He smiled. “No more feeding the sharks.”
Owen reached out to brush Mason’s hair back from his forehead. “Okay, so long as you understand that I don’t need or want you to change for me. I love you just the way you are, Mason. Hell, it’s not my business what you choose to do with your life. If it ever seemed like that, it’s just because I worried about how anxious you sometimes got about stuff that didn’t seem to me to really matter.” He smiled gently. “But I know that came from the pressure you felt to keep supporting your family financially.” He shook his head. “I never meant to make you feel like I look down on what you do.”
Mason smiled ruefully. “Yeah, well, as much as I appreciate you saying that, the truth is, you were right about a lot of what you said. After that shitshow last week, and our argument, I realised how unhappy I was making myself, constantly presenting this fake version of myself to the world.”
“Mason—” Owen stroked his hair again, his dark brows creased with concern.