© 2017 Finn Marlowe
Randy glanced from his phone to the ugly dark sky above. More rain was coming. The sticky warmth already had him sweating, and it was muggy as shit. The crows in the neighbor’s trees were having an epic argument over something that could easily be resolved if Randy could only get his hands on the big one and ring its squawky goddamn neck. Maybe they were cranky, too. Mason’s back yard had spawned a bloodthirsty plague of giant mosquitoes and they were sucking the blood out of everything in sight.
Randy smiled. Still the best day he’d ever had.
Even with the background ache in his arm, the cold, hard fact he was now homeless and the fifteen minutes he’d spent apartment hunting suggested it was going to be hell on Earth finding a place, nothing could beat to the perfection of this day.
Except maybe more sex and cuddling time, but that would be pushing his luck, right? They hadn’t gotten out of bed for hours, and they’d spent a good chunk of those hours kissing and touching, and on Randy’s part, mauling. For some reason, he couldn’t seem keep his hands to himself. Apparently, he even did it in his asleep. Mason had accused him of being a bed hog, when really, he’d just been a Mason hog.
Not that he’d be keen to confess the reason behind his awkwardness. Mason was used to sleeping with someone, whereas Randy always slept alone.
Mason finally kicked him out of bed—well, off the bed, ‘cuz all he had was a mattress on the floor, and grouchily informed him they would have to continue their fling later because he had things on his agenda for the day. His fucking agenda. But the prospect of flinging later? Yeah. He’d fling Mason over his shoulder and see if his mouth was as talented as his hands…
“Ready to go?” Mason asked, interrupting his fruitless search for place to live that wouldn’t suck up his every last dollar.
“Yup.” He drained the last sip of his coffee and wished for another. Mason made great coffee. “What route we taking again?”
“The one that crosses under the power lines. It used to love riding my bike there when I could get away with it.”
Which meant more noisy birds and even more mosquitoes. Not that Randy minded, or cared what they did together, all that mattered was that Mason had invited him. Spending more time with Mason? Hell yeah, he was all over that. It had been so long since they’d done anything together, that even Mason’s weird quest to find that kid from the old photo sounded like fun. “Do you still have a back gate? I can’t see shit through all those weeds back there.”
“No. Since no one was using it except druggies trying to steal stuff, Nat had it permanently closed off.”
“No biggie. We can get onto the path next street over.”
“Have you been there recently? What’s the trail like?” Mason gave him a surprised glance, then when he noticed the way Randy was looking at him, turned shy.
Considering the places Mason had had his hands not more than an hour ago, and the things Randy had done to Mason with his one fully functioning hand, how could he possibly feel shy now? “Sometimes I just need to get away and think.” Randy shrugged. “Seemed like as good a spot as any, and it’s close by.”
“So let’s get going.” If they didn’t, Mason was going start feeling all guilty again. God, why had he told Mason about the abuse? That was fucking stupid. And embarrassing. It had just popped right out of his mouth all by itself and now he couldn’t take it back.
Most of the people who used the trail now were dog walkers. Running into someone with a friendly mutt always cheered him up because he could sneak in a pet or two as they passed each other. Growing up, he’d never had a cat or dog. Old man probably would’ve beaten it to death so it was probably for the best, not that it stopped him from wanting one.
Sadly, they had the trail to themselves. No dogs anywhere. The early walkers had gone to work and the lazy ones weren’t out and about yet. But he did have Mason, who kept giving him more of those shy, almost confused, glances as they walked. Those shy peeks, together with Mason’s unusually messy hair and his faded jeans were really turning Randy on. And they were all alone out here… “So,” Randy drawled, “now that we’re having a fling, does this mean I can kiss you whenever I want?”
Mason stopped short. “What?”
‘What’ was not ‘fuck you, Randy Porterhouse’, so he grabbed Mason around the waist and yanked him close. Before Mason could protest, not that it looked like he was going to, he covered Mason’s mouth with his own.
Oh, yeah. Just as good as it had been an hour ago. Or the hour before that. Startled at first, it took Mason a few seconds to relax and get into it. When he did, he didn’t hold back. Their lips and tongues instantly got reacquainted and they were soon sharing spit and soft groans. Simply touching Mason—anywhere—made him hard and he grabbed Mason by the ass, tugged him closer and rubbed their groins together.
Mason tore his mouth away and gasped, “Randy, you can’t just—”
“What? Kiss you?”
“That wasn’t just a kiss!”
“Sure it was.” So there was a lot of tongue and grinding involved. Big deal. “And I really want to do it some more.”
“Someone might see us!”
“So? Fuck ‘em. Let ‘em watch.” He chuckled. “But they’ll have to rub one out on their own. I’m not sharing you.”
He sighed and relaxed his grip on Mason’s ass. “Let’s go into the bushes then, and jerk each other off in private.”
Mason’s mouth fell open on a shocked gasp. Big mistake. Randy hooked his cast around Mason’s shoulder, leaned in and thrust his tongue in Mason’s mouth. Hopefully one day soon, once Mason got used the idea of them being together as more than friends, it would be his dick he got to thrust between those pouty red lips. Randy was patient. After all, he’d been waiting for Mason for twenty years. What was another day or two?
As they kissed and necked and Randy scraped his scruff along Mason’s neck because it made Mason shiver every time he did it, he started herding his prey off the path, through the weeds and scrub into a secluded spot out of sight of anyone coming along the path.
Once he realized what Randy had done, Mason finally balked. “You can’t be serious!”
“Why not? You’re horny,” Randy switched his hand from Mason’s ass to the thick bulge at the front, filling his hand with a hard, eager cock that leapt at his touch. “And I’m definitely horny.” Randy nudged Mason a few steps further and behind a few bushes in full leaf. They were now completely hidden from view. “Come here, little boy. If you show me yours, I’ll show you mine.”
For a few seconds, Mason couldn’t find any words. Randy had always liked watching Mason sputter over the results of his latest prank, and Mase didn’t disappoint him now. “You’re out of your fucking mind!”
Where had he heard that before?
A dead, partially fallen tree worn free of bark caught Mason in the lower back when Randy backed him against it. Now he couldn’t escape. Not that he tried. In fact, when Randy popped the top button and slid Mason’s zipper down, Mason gasped instead of offering up even a single word of complaint. His breathing sped up. His eyes fell shut.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Horny, and raring to go. Randy took him firmly in hand and drew out a long, slow pull. Mason’s eyes flew open and he gasped loudly. Randy chuckled, and shoved Mason’s pants down to his knees. He leaned in and nuzzled Mason’s ear. “Better be quiet, Mase. Someone might hear you groaning and come investigate.”
“You arrogant fuck!” Mason cursed, struggling, and failing to keep his voice down.
“Yeah, yeah. More hand action and less talking, Novak.” Randy had never been more annoyed at the stupid, cumbersome cast than he was right this minute. He wanted two goddamn hands. One to jack Mason and the other to cover his mouth. He suspected Mason would probably get off even harder on that, because someone clearly liked a little manhandling with his sex. “Unzip me,” he said instead. “And get busy before the skeeters bite us both on the ass.”
Mason seemed to like taking orders too, because his agile fingers unerringly found Randy’s button. Because of his broken arm and how hard it was wrangle on clothing one handed, he could no longer wear his button fly jeans and he’d never been more thankful. Zippers were faster. Once the button popped out and a bit of the zipper went down, his cock head popped out, eager for some action.
“Zipper’s stuck on your hard on!”
“Tug harder. Come on—you want it or not?”
With a more determined pull on the tab, Mason freed the rest of his length from the snug denim. “Fuck, you’re hard,” he panted as Randy worked up a good rhythm. “And goddamn thick.”
“Use both hands.”
“However you want. You’ll figure it out.”
Which he did, in about ten seconds. Mason busied one hand playing with his balls while the other stroked. “Squeeze harder.” Mason firmed up the next stroke and tugged harder on his sack. “Yeah, like that. Work it like you mean it.”
Never hurt to ask for what you wanted, did it?
As for Mason, all Randy had to do was watch his body language. It was easy to see, and hear, what Mason liked best. He was so sexy taking pleasure from Randy’s hand, and licking his lips and panting. Plus the faces he made—yeah. Totally into it. After a few tries, Randy found the magic spot under Mason’s cockhead that turned him into a slave to sensation. At the end of every stroke, Randy thumbed that spot while giving his wrist a slight twisting squeeze around the engorged head.
“Christ,” Mason moaned. “That’s—that’s so good.”
“You mean this?” He slicked his thumb with some of Mason’s pre-cum and tried the thumb rub-wrist twist again.
That time Mason actually cried out. “Yeah, that. Exactly that.”
“I’m going to make you come so hard,” he promised. Mason opened his eyes, but the glazed look said the man himself wasn’t really home at the moment. Randy fell into those blue depths anyway. Now that Mason was climbing toward the edge, his slit leaked fast and furious. Every few strokes, Randy greased his palm with a quick slide over the slippery head, easing the next tight stroke. “Yeah, that it’s it, Mase. Go for it.”
As he peaked, Mason’s hands faltered and Randy grunted in disappointment. The little head was so demanding. But it could wait its turn.
“Sorry,” Mason panted.
“You can make it up to me after you come.” Randy stroked harder. Relentlessly. “On your knees.”
Well, well. Mason really liked that idea. His hips stuttered, trying to thrust faster, while Randy held him back and determined the pace. Cruel maybe, but edging made for such a sweet orgasm in the end. Randy teased him for a few more hard, but deliberately not hard enough strokes, and drove Mason crazy. He increased the pace and whispered, “You like the idea of that, huh? Of being on your knees? Of seeing how much of my cock you can cram in your mouth?”
“Yes, or no, Mase.” Randy swiped the edge of his thumb in the slippery slit. “You want to suck my cock?”
Mason groaned. Loudly.
Exactly what he hoped to hear. He should be rewarded for that. Randy jacked him to the finish line, moving sideways at the last second so he could watch Mason shoot his load onto the forest floor and not on the only shirt he had. Watching Mason’s face so he’d know when to let up and not overstimulate him, Randy kept working Mason’s cock, closer to the head now, prolonging his climax. When Mason shuddered and grabbed Randy’s wrist, he let up and finished the hand job with a long, dirty kiss.
Mason didn’t leave him hanging for long. After they kissed, Mason yanked up his pants and picked up where he left off, his hands sure and swift. Being a quick learner, Mason worked it like he meant it. When he had Randy on the verge, his knees shaking and toes tingling, he went to drop to his knees. “Wait—” Randy gasped. Was he insane? He was about to turn down a blow job? “I’m so close. Just finish me.”
“I don’t know,” Mason teased. “You trolled me pretty hard with false promises, Randy.”
“And now you’re not going to deliver?”
Using the same thumb-wrist-jerk trick, Mason had him peaking in seconds. Fuck—dude was really good at this. Plus, he had two hands and knew how to use them. Synchronized, too. Randy’s hands began to tremble. “Please, Mase…oh, fuck please…”
From his toes to his balls, everything tightened at once, including his hand on Mason’s shoulder, the one he planned to shove him his knees with, but it was too late. Much too late. Mason skillfully brought him to the edge and pushed him over. The orgasm rolled over him, so hard and fast he couldn’t even catch his breath.
When the beast was finally drained and he could breathe again, he opened his eyes to Mason’s satisfied smirk.
Sneaky son of a bitch. How had he lost this round? Not that he’d call coming that forcefully losing or anything. Randy broke out in a shaky laugh. Mason grinned back, and oh god, he was so beautiful. Did he have any idea what he did to Randy just with that smile?
Still amused—or just happy—Mason adjusted his underwear and jeans and zipped up.
“You have cum on your hand.” Randy’s cum. The dirty thrill of that gave Randy a pleasant aftershock, which turned into outright full body shudder when, still smirking, Mason lifted his hand to his mouth and licked it. “Fuck…” Randy gasped. The beast stirred. Down boy!
Smiling wickedly, Mason rubbed the rest of it off on the lower leg of his jeans. “Better put that away Randy, before the mosquitoes find it. Looks tasty.”
“I dunno if I want to put it away. You’re making it hard again.”
After tucking the beast back where it belonged, Randy sighed and slapped a mosquito drilling for blood in his forearm. “Fine. But after we’re done looking for your needle in a haystack, you gotta help me break into my dad’s house.” Randy took Mason’s hand and held it back to the path.
“Break into your…what?” Mason’s eyes opened wide.
“I want my stuff. And your mom’s letter.”
“Don’t you have a key? You are—were living there.”
Ah, Mason. He had no idea how Randy’s father worked. “By dinner yesterday afternoon, he would’ve had the locks changed.”
“Seriously? That fast?”
“Oh, yeah. He wouldn’t care how much it cost either. He’d pay anything to spite me. My stuff’s probably all in the garbage by now.” Or scattered on the front lawn with holes in it. “I hope he knows better than to touch my car.”
“What a fucking bastard.”
“You have no idea. Really, Mason. No idea.” And Randy planned to keep it that way. No need to taint Mason with that shit. “So, you gonna help me?” In actuality, Randy expected Mason to say no. Ever since they’d been little, Mase had been the law-abiding sort. He’d suggest a lawyer. Again. Like, who had money for that?
Mason stopped and turned. His eyes had turned icy blue. “Yes.”
Wow. “I love that fucking word. Gives me a boner every time. Say it again.”
Two yeses in a row. He should try for three. “Will you let me fuck you tonight?”
Mason blinked. “In your dreams, Porterhouse.” Then he resumed walking.
“I’ve already fucked you lots there.”
Mason stumbled, his shoe catching on…nothing. “You do what? You masturbate perving over fantasies of me?”
“Sure, why not? You’re fucking hot.”
“I am not. And you’re disgusting.”
That right there was why Randy would never cheat on anyone. Provided he ever found someone to cheat on. It fucking destroyed people. But they were having fun and Randy wasn’t going to ruin it by bringing up Richard and how much Randy wanted to punch him in his lying, cheating face. “So, is that your permanent position on the matter? Or can I try buttering you up and trying for a better position later on?” Randy waggled his brows.
“Oh, my god, you're such a dog.”
“Is that a yes?”
Mason laughed. “No.”
Damn, but he had all summer to change Mason’s mind. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
Mason laughed—honest to god laughed. Been far too long since Randy had heard that wonderful sound. “Maybe I want to fuck you. You ever think of that?”
Oh, yeah? Mason couldn’t fool Randy who knew a bottom when he had one moaning in his hands. But what if he was wrong? Lots of guys liked to switch it up. Could Randy? “I might let ya.” Under certain conditions. “You’d have to get me pretty wasted first.” Which was a good way to ruin sex it you asked him. “And use lots of lube.”
Raising one brow, Mason said, “Of course. Lube is good.”
Taking it up the ass would be all kinds of weird. And contrary to the proper order of things. But all the guys he’d ever fucked liked it, so it had to be good, right? Randy could usually get them begging in no time flat. “It’s still good the first time though, right? You’ll make sure I get off?” Because he didn’t want to waste one minute of sex time with Mason on something that hurt or felt uncomfortable or downright fucking weird.
Mason stopped so abruptly that Randy, following right behind, smacked into his back.
Wait? For what? Since they were stopped anyway, Randy breathed hotly on the back of Mason’s neck, then kissed the spot where he’d blown away his hair. Mason shivered violently, the swatted him away. He had an incredulous look on his face when he turned. “Do you mean you haven’t done it? Haven’t been fucked?”
Jeez—you’d think Mason had never heard of such a concept. “Nope.”
“Randy…how is that possible…”
Mason seemed at a loss for words. “I always want to be the one doing the fucking.” Again, he waggled his brows. “Nobody’s ever complained.”
“Nope.” That wasn’t to say he hadn’t felt a finger or two up there, which, when getting blown, felt pretty damned good. “But I’d let you do me.” Even if Mr. Novak’s tool was on the longish side, he’d bend over for it. In fact, the beast already approved and twitched with interest. “Whaddya say, Mase? Wanna pop my cherry?” There’d never been anyone else he trusted enough to allow it. But Mason could have him.
Mason stood there, eyes wide and staring, lips parted in shock. After a few seconds, Randy nudged him under the chin with his knuckles and closed his mouth. “Mosquitoes will get in there.”
“Thanks, I know.”
“How can you be thirty-four, gay and never tried it?”
What was the big deal? Randy shrugged. “Never wanted to. If I get lucky and meet a guy, and we hook up, I always want to fuck him.” And they always wanted it that way too. “Maybe I’m only attracted to guys who want my dick in their ass.” He’d never thought about it before. “I mean I’d never go with a guy who wanted to top me in the first place and they’d never try to pick me up, either. We all know what each other wants. Why waste time barking up the wrong tree?”
“Oh, good god.”
“When I go out hunting, I’m after someone like you.” Actually, someone exactly like Mason because he never stood a change of having the real man. Until now. Not that Mason was going to stick around or anything. Their fling would end as soon as summer did.
“And what exactly is someone like me?”
He had to ask? And why did he sound so defensive all of a sudden? Sensing a trap, Randy measured his words carefully. But in the end he decided to keep it real. “Someone who wants to get it, because I love to give it. A bottom. Not that I’m a big fan of labels, but yeah, let’s call it what it is.”
“And you think that’s me?”
“I know that’s you. Sure, you might like to switch it up once in a while, but what you crave most being shoved face down and ass-fucked to within an inch of your life.”
Mason snorted loudly in disagreement. “That’s bullshit! You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He huffed loudly, a sound of pure disgust. “And you don’t know me at all.”
That’s what they all said. As if admitting it made them less manly somehow. Didn’t they know it was the other way around? Tops had it easy. They weren’t putting themselves in a vulnerable position. But that wasn’t the real issue here. “You’re right Mason, I don’t know you at all.” Aside from the last five years, only most of his life. But what was Randy to him except his obnoxious neighbor?
Mason stomped down the path a few yards, turned, then stomped back. “That’s not what I mean and you damned well know it.”
“Know what? I’m not a fucking mind reader.”
“Look—I know you know me. Fuck, you know me better than anyone except my mom and Ginny. Better than my own father. Hell, you probably even know me better than Richard ever did, and I lived with him for five stupid, fucking years.” At the mention of Richard’s name, Mason’s shoulders slumped. “But you don’t know that part of me. You have no idea what kind of man I turned into or who I am inside.”
Or the sexual man, with that being part of what Mase meant, but couldn’t say. “But I’d like to.”
“And I told you I didn’t have that to give.”
True, he had. Randy had even listened, and agreed to those terms. Randy nodded. Mason pressed his lips together and in that split second, the broken version of Mason Novak reappeared. Gone was the fun Mason who’d just jerked him off in the bushes and laughed from the joy of it. Now he just looked sad, and sad wouldn’t do. Hating seeing him like that, Randy pulled Mason against his chest and wrapped his arms around his stiff and unyielding shoulders, and hugged him.
“I accepted your terms, Mase. I’m only after what you want to give me.” Because anything beyond that would just be a lie. “I just wanna have fun with you this summer, like we used to. Do I wanna fool around with you? Hell, yeah. But sex isn’t just fucking, you know. We can still have fun without that, if you don’t want to do it.”
“Right,” Mason snorted.
“I mean it.” As much as Randy wanted to pound Mason through the mattress, it wasn’t necessary. It wasn’t a deal breaker. “An orgasm is still an orgasm, no matter how you get there. So if all that’s on offer is hand jobs and blow jobs, I’m okay with that.”
Mason looked at him, long and steady.
“But please tell me blow jobs are on the table, ‘cuz I really like those.”
A smile flickered over Mason’s lips. “Giving? Or just receiving? You’re not too toppy to return the favor, are you?”
Randy laughed. “Not too toppy, nope. I love giving head. I will suck you off any chance I get.”
The flickering smile turned into a smirk. “You’re going to have to prove that, Porterhouse.”
“No, not right now, you horny bastard!”
Not that Randy couldn’t get it up right now, or anything, and he suspected Mason would have no problem either. But Mason had his agenda, and Randy needed to get his shit and his car at precisely two this afternoon when the old man would be out seeing yet another doctor…so blow jobs would have to wait. Not only that, the mosquitoes were swarming and he wanted to have some blood left for later. “Come on then, let’s get this show on the road. We ain’t gonna find your smiley friend standing around getting eaten alive.”
Randy strode by Mason, grabbed his hand, and started walking down the path.
After few moments of quiet, and right as the path opened up onto the road, Mason said, “No one’s ever complained, huh?”
For a few seconds, Randy had no idea what Mason meant. He’d be strolling along singing a happy tune. In his head. Because he couldn’t sing worth shit. Then he remembered. “Not one.” Not even the first guy he’d ever done, and Randy had climaxed in about two thrusts and totally embarrassed himself.
“Not even one of your old boyfriends? One that really hates you?”
“Definitely not.” Because he’d never had a boyfriend, so technically, that wasn’t a lie.
“You think so?” Who the hell had Mason been sleeping with? Losers. All of them. “What’s there to complain about when I give ‘em what they want?”
“Oh, my God, you’re so conceited.”
“No, I’m not. I’m just good.”
Mason rolled his eyes, shook his head and wandered onto the pitted, pot-holed road. He was smiling. Randy could tell. Chuckling, Randy followed after him.
Mason pulled his phone from his back pocket and turned back to face him. “I think you’re lying. Just yanking my chain.”
“Only one way for you to find out.” Randy grinned. Mason never could resist a challenge. Or a mystery. Sucker. “But I’ll leave that decision up to you.”
Instead of a comment, because Randy had stumped him, Mason gave him the finger. Which he used to fiddle around on his phone with. “Hold on a sec.”
“I want a new photo for the memory box.”
“I’ll show you later.”
“Ooh, sounds like fun. Show and tell was good back there in the bushes.”
With a heavy sigh, Mason shook his head and held up his phone. “Smile.”
What the hell. Randy did. Then Mason took one of them together and they examined the results. Randy butted Mason’s shoulder. “We look good together.” But then, any photo with Mason smiling in it would look good.
“We do, don’t we?” Mason joked, puffing out his chest. But that didn’t make it any less true.
Before Mason put his phone away, he scrolled though a bunch of other pictures until blondie’s bright smile lit up the screen. “I emailed you a copy so you could show anyone who thinks they might remember something.”
“From almost thirty years ago? In this neighborhood?” A long, ugly row of townhouses and apartment buildings in varying states of decay stretched out before them. Nobody around here stayed longer than strictly necessary before they hightailed to better digs as fast as their broken-ass Impalas could get them there. “You’re nuts if you think anyone around here will remember anything past last week.”
“I’ll do all the talking, if you don’t want to.”
Like that would end well. “Someone’s gonna shoot you, you know that, right?”
Mason scoffed. “You’re such a skeptic.”
“No, I’m a realist. We’re gonna die.”
“How ‘bout a little wager, then?”
“Yeah? What’re you offering?” Hopefully something that began with Mason on his knees and ended in his mouth.
“Winner picks dinner.”
“What? Dinner? That’s all?” Randy only pretended to be disappointed. Truth be told, getting to pick whatever he wanted to have for dinner was almost as good as getting blown. Because…BBQ. And cold beer. His stomach growled loudly.
Mason, standing right beside him, heard. “Whoever gets a clue, wins.”
“Well, here’s a clue for you right now. We’re gonna starve to death.” Randy smirked. “But that’s okay. You’re not supposed to eat after getting shot. Makes you barf during surgery.”
“So you’re giving up already? I win by default?”
At that taunt, Randy’s spine stiffened, even though he knew Mason was baiting him. And doing it well. They’d always egged each other on, and responding to any challenge was an ingrained habit.
Challenging him further, Mason added, “Hope you like tofu.”
“What the fuck? Tofu? Tofu?”
“I’m thinking of becoming a vegetarian.”
“Like hell you are!” Randy snatched his phone from his pocket. Where was that goddamned email? “We’re having fucking steak. Porterhouse steaks, you fucking loser. They’re expensive, but since you’re buying… Grill mine rare, too. Because that’s what I want when I win.”
Grinning, Mason picked the side of the road with the fewest number of derelict buildings, and sauntered that way. Fuck he had a great ass. “Bring it, asshole,” Mason called over his shoulder.
He’d be bringing it, all right. Randy stomped to the other side of the road. Tofu, his ass. They were having steak and salad. With fried potatoes because Mason needed the calories. And after that…