Page 117 of Summer Lessons

Mason groaned long and slow as Terry penetrated, spreading him, pulsing inside his body, and Terry went slow and easy. Mason closed his eyes and thought about the empty space in his heart over the past months, and when he opened his eyes, Terry was gazing at him with such purity, such tenderness, that Mason’s heart healed, right in that minute.

“Love you,” he gasped.

“Love you too,” Terry returned, voice strained. He fell forward and pulled back, slow and gentle, before he thrust forward again.

Mason found he was smiling stupidly into those brown eyes. “Do you really?” he teased. “Do you really love me?”

Terry chuckled, low and evil. “God, yeah.”

“Then fuck me, dammit. Fuck me fucking blind.”

“Booyah!”

Hard and fast and strong—oh dear Lord, Mason had waited his entire life to be fucked like this. Terry pounded inside of him without pause, without fear—hell, without even getting out of breath. And Mason’s climax crested like a tsunami, first sucking all the air out of his body, then prickling along his arms and the back of his neck in warning, and then rolling, big, and bigger, up and up and up, until he was looking into the heavens to see the top. And then…

Whoosh!

In a giant surf crash of nerve-ending explosions, Mason orgasmed, crying out, spurting along his belly from his untouched cock.

He lost his grip on the sheets and flailed, catching Terry’s shoulders and crying out again as an aftershock rocked him—and Terry’s hips started a series of short, quick thrusts that hammered Mason’s sweet spot with every plunge.

“Oh God,” he chanted. “Oh God, oh God, c’mon, Terry, c’mon, c’mon, need to feel you in there, need to feel you inside me, need you to fuckin’come!”

With a roar and a final, epic thrust, he did, collapsing across Mason’s chest, twitching, still in Mason’s body.

Terry gulped air frantically for a minute, and finally, when his shudders stopped, he asked, “You believe me now?”

Of course Mason did. But he was happy and free, and he could say anything to this man and be forgiven.

“Maybe,” he panted. “Maybe we’ll have to do it one or two more times.”

Four months later

THIS TIMEMason topped, fucking Terry from behind while he collapsed onto one shoulder and yanked frantically at his dick for climax. When they’d both roared to the finish together, Mason piled on top of him, squishing him into the mattress. He kissed the shell of Terry’s ear and breathed softly into it, just to tease.

“You keep doing that,” Terry grunted, “and we’re going to go again before we meet everyone at Skip and Richie’s.”

Now that autumn had arrived, Skip and Richie had taken over hosting duties, which felt right, since it had been Skip’s team to begin with.

“Dane and Carpenter will probably be there already.” Dane and Carpenter, their own romance cruising to an agenda only they understood, were still living at Mason’s house, which Mason didn’t mind. One more year of vet school—Mason would do anything to see his little brother graduate, to have a chance to be happy. They’d go house shopping soon enough. Mason was just hoping the house would still be in the same neighborhood.

“Yeah. We’ll get there. We have to—we made cookies.” Terry grinned over his shoulder, particularly proud of those cookies.

Well, they were decorated, and he’d looked them up in a recipe book. It was a new skill, and he’d been using it a lot, and Mason was proud of him.

“Mmm….” Mason kissed some of the sweat off the back of his neck, moving his shaggy hair as he did so. Terry was going for the same sort of hipster thing that Dane had going on. Mason didn’t mind the look, but he still sort of preferred the Boy Scout thing he’d had going in the summer.

But seriously—not picky.

He had Terry to himself as often as they could meet, and that was about five days a week.

Sleeping alone in his own bed was starting to feel like something fundamentally wrong had happened to his life.

“Hey, Mason,” Terry murmured, rolling to his side.

Mason did the same. “What?” he asked, staring at his lover in wonder. God—he sent Mason flowers. At least once a month. It was such a silly, simple thing, but Mason didn’t take it for granted. A silly, simple thing that meant the world.

“My lease is expiring.”