by Riley Hart
The tears were already coming, and damned if they didn’t hurt. He was thirty years old and it still pained him to make his mother cry. “It’s not right. It’s not love. You’re being selfish. Your…” she shook her head. “That man, you said his father isn’t doing well. Doesn’t that wake you up? Your own daddy is the same, and it’s more important to you to be with some man, living in sin, than to give him the comfort of believing his son will be with him again some day.”
“So I’m supposed to lie about who I am?”
“You’re supposed to put your family first! Live your life however you want, but care enough about us not to flaunt it here. I don’t want to hear about it. Your dad, he gets upset and agitated so easily. Give him some peace, Gavin. Love your family enough to do that. Is it really that hard?”
Her words struck something deep inside of him. She was asking him to pretend. Asking him to do something that he never wanted to do again, but then, did he want to cause problems for his father? He knew enough about dementia to know how easily agitated they could become. Was it wrong of his mom to love his dad enough to want him to live peacefully? Was it really selfish of him not to agree to just…keep his mouth closed? To pretend to be the son his parents want when he’s around his father?
“It’s not going to change anything. I’ll still be gay. You’ll still have your beliefs about my life, even if they’re not spoken aloud.”
“Maybe—”
“It’s who I am. It will never change. I don’t want it to.”
“You’ll go to Hell, Gavin.”
He didn’t believe that but he knew she did. “Then I guess that’s my fate.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Another week passed in the blink of an eye. It was Sunday when Mason opened the door to his parent’s house.
“God damn it!” His father’s words were loud, but slurred. It would take a while for him to learn to speak clearly again—if ever. Mason’s head throbbed. He wanted nothing but to go upstairs and crash, but his dad didn’t shout like that often—though he had more recently.
“I’m trying, here. I don’t know what you want me to do!” his mom countered, and that pain in his head got worse. It traveled down to his chest. They were falling apart.
“Everything okay?” Isaac said from behind him. Christ, he’d forgotten the man was with him.
“Yeah, it’s fine. I’ll be right back.” He avoided the stairs and went toward the room on this level that his parents moved into.
“Where’s Mason?” his dad asked, prompting Mason to stop outside the room.
“He’s at work with Isaac.”
There was a pause, and then he heard the struggle in his father’s voice to get the words right when he spoke. “He doesn’t want it. I’ll never be able to work again. He doesn’t want Alexander’s.”
It was as though someone shoved a knife right below his ribcage. With each of his dad’s words, the knife twisted in deeper.
“No…he doesn’t. And as hard as that is, I want him to be happy. We’ll be okay, sweetheart. You’ll get better. Alexander’s will always be ours. We’re not going to lose it. Eventually it will go to Mason. He might have changed his mind by then. I just think…I think he’s lost right now. He doesn’t know who he is, or where he came from. Maybe—”
“NO!”
His mom sighed. “She gave birth to him. That will never change. I think he wants to know her, even if he’ll never admit it. Even if it’s only to get answers. He’s a grown man. He has the right to make that decision if it’s what he wants.”
Mason leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. He loved the two people in the next room, but he did wonder where he came from. It was a natural curiosity, he thought, but it also felt like a betrayal.
The longer their silence went, the heavier it got for Mason, until he couldn’t handle it anymore. Quietly, he walked down the hallway. Shook his head at Isaac, who stood in the living room, as he opened and closed the front door loudly.
“Mason?” His mom called from the room.
“Yeah, it’s me.” He went down the hallway and greeted them both. “How are you guys doing today? Pop, how are you?”
His dad nodded but Mason could see how much he held himself back. “Good.” There was a gruffness to his one-word reply that made that knife go deeper again.
“Isaac is out there. We were going to discuss business with you, but my head is killing me tonight. I think I’m going to tell him he can go and we can talk tomorrow. Does that work?”
Both his parents agreed and Mason told them goodnight. Isaac leaned against the stairs, close enough to have heard what Mason said. His arms were crossed in his cocky, questioning way. Mason held up a hand. “Not tonight.”
“What happened?” Isaac asked.
“Nothing. Everything is fine. I just have a headache.”
He lowered his voice. “That why you pretended to come home after you did? And I hear orgasms help with headaches. Want me to come up with you?”
“God damn, do you ever stop?” He had enough shit going on in his life. He didn’t want to deal with Isaac, too.
“Hey.” Isaac grabbed his arm. “I’m giving you shit. What happened? You know I’m here to talk if you need it.”
In reality, he did know that. He just couldn’t find the words with Isaac. “Same old shit, just a different day. Come over in the morning and we’ll figure things out, okay?”
He took the stairs two at a time, knowing Isaac would let himself out. Mason kicked out of his shoes the second he got into his room. Pants and shirt came next, and then he fell into bed. His head really was killing him. He’d had a constant pain there for damn near a week.
He glanced at the clock on the bedside table. Gavin would still be at the bar. What the hell would he have done without the man these last few weeks? He really came through for Mason. He not only did a great job in Mason’s absence, but he dealt with Mason’s obsessive phone calls and written instructions about a job Gavin already knew.
A smile tugged at his lips. It would serve him right if Gavin stopped answering his calls, but Mason knew he wouldn’t. Gavin didn’t work that way.
Mason couldn’t count on him forever, though. I’ll never be able to work again. His father’s words replayed in his head.
Where did that leave them all? Isaac was loyal to the bone, but he was also damn ambitious. Soon he would want something of his own, which is why his parents had always been happy about the two of them together. They could run Alexander’s the way his parents had.
“Fuck.” Mason closed his eyes, hoping to make all the shit overcrowding his brain quiet down. He owed the people in this house right now. He loved them, too. It was his obligation to be the person his family needed.
***
Gavin just climbed into bed when his cell rang. He grabbed it from the bedside table to see Mason’s name on the screen. “Hey. Perfect timing. I just got home from getting the bar closed up.”
“Really? Took you that long, huh?”
Despite Mason’s joking words, his voice held the husky tone of sleep. “Ha ha, funny man. You sound tired as hell, yet you couldn’t keep yourself from calling to see how things went with your bar today, I see.”
“Or I called to see how you are.”
Gavin liked the sound of that probably more than he should. “Okay, so you’re tired but you couldn’t help but call to see how your bar is doing and talk to me.” Because the bar was in there. Gavin knew that, and he couldn’t fault him for it, either.
“Maybe a little.” Gavin heard something else in Mason’s voice this time. The exhaustion was there, but it wasn’t the only thing.
“You’re working too hard. You need a day off.”
“Nah, I just have a headache.”
“Which head?”
“Who’s the funny man now?” Mason countered. “And both.”
Gavin wasn’t sure what made him ask, but he knew the words were important. “Something happen?” He worried
about Mason—the pressure of working two jobs and driving between Blackcreek, Denver, and Boulder so much. It wasn’t healthy for him.
Mason groaned. “I almost wished we hadn’t started this whole talking thing. You know the rules, tit for tat, right?”
Gavin did know, even though like Mason, he’d rather not discuss it. “What if I don’t have anything to talk about?”
“You do. If not, make something up so I’m not doing this all by myself.”
Gavin laughed. Mason always made him do that. He’d had a long day himself and had been looking forward to crashing, but now he found he was doing exactly what he wanted to do. Talking to Mason. “Okay. You first.”
“I walked in on my father yelling and cursing. It’s not something he’s ever done. They say a stroke can sometimes change parts of your personality. I’m hoping it’s just that he had a bad day. Or maybe it’s the fact that he also felt forced to admit to my mother that he knows I don’t want Alexander’s. He’s angry and hurt, which I understand. Add in the fact that he’s dealing with the realization he might never work again, and from the sound of it, arguing with my mom on whether or not they should tell me my birth mom’s name. I miss my bar, and my boyfriend, and my ex won’t quit trying to fuck me and it’s pretty much been the day from hell.”
“Well, that’s where I’m going, so hopefully it’s not too bad,” Gavin tried to tease, but Mason practically growled into the phone in response.
“Not funny. What happened?”
“I went to see my mom last week. She reiterated where I’m going to spend eternity and asked me to pretend to be someone I’m not.” Just another day.
“Shit. Last week? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you have enough to worry about.”
Mason paused and then said, “I still want to know. Look at us, we’re a couple of sob stories. Aren’t we supposed to be living our lives, jumping out of planes and spending whole days in bed doing nothing except sleeping and fucking?”
“And playing music. Don’t forget that.”
“Never. You’re sexy as hell when you play. And at least we’re not sob stories alone.”
That was true. The responsibility they both felt to their family, to do and be something for the people they loved, had always been a common bond between them.
“Let’s change the subject, music man.”
“Isaac is still trying to fuck you, huh?” Shit. He hadn’t meant for that to come out. “Fuck, I didn’t mean—”
“Are we really going to argue about my ex again? I had a shitty day, and he half teasingly offered me an orgasm. I said no, came to bed, and slept until I woke up to call you—the boyfriend I said I miss, if you didn’t hear that part.”
And now Gavin felt like an ass. He shook his head, almost reached for the light as though that would make a difference, but didn’t. “You’re right. I don’t know why the hell I can’t let that go. And I miss you, too.”
“Good.” Gavin heard a rustling sound on the other end of the line before Mason asked, “Have you gotten off today?”
Gavin liked where this was going. “No.”
“Then lets do it. Take off your clothes. I’m damned good at phone sex. Dirty talk gets me hard.”
Yeah, it did Gavin, as well. At least from Mason. Standing up, he pulled off his clothes the way his lover told him to.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Mason didn’t want to think about everything that happened today. He didn’t want to consider that he hadn’t been willing to talk to his oldest friend but had easily opened up to Gavin. The only thought or feeling he welcomed right now was pleasure—to get off and get Gavin off as well.
“Are you naked?” he asked.
“Yeah. That’s not really something you typically have to ask me twice to do.”
He chuckled at Gavin’s joke. Smiled at the huskiness that already set in Gavin’s tone. He needed this just as much as Mason did.
“I know you can get off by jerking yourself off and listening to me talk to you, but I want you to picture what I’m going to be doing, too. I’ll be pretending you’re fucking me, Gav. I’ll use a few fingers and try and make myself believe it’s your cock.”
“Fuck yes,” Gavin hissed out.
“Hey, are you starting without me?”
Gavin countered, “Hurry up then.”
Mason grabbed his lube. “Tell me what you’re doing.”
“I thought you were going to do the dirty talk?”
Ah, so he hit a nerve with his lover. Gavin wasn’t very experienced in being a vocal lover. “Some of it. Paint me a picture. Tell me what you’re doing. Are the lights on or off?”
“Off.”
“Turn them on so you can see.” He heard movement on the other end of the line.
“The light next to the bed is on. Damn, I am so fucking hard. There’s a vein on the top, runs from base to head. I can see it pulsing beneath the skin.”
Mason groaned, wishing like hell he could be there to see it as well. “Run your thumb up it. Pretend it’s my tongue. I’m licking you nice and slow.”
“Yeah… Want you here.”
“I’m there. I bet you have a bead of pre-come at the tip just waiting for my tongue.”
More movement. Mason’s own erection ached like crazy. He squirted lube in his hand and rubbed his prick slowly. “Is it there?” he asked.
“Yeah…yeah, it’s there.”
“Rub your finger in it.” He paused. “You do it?”
“Yes.”
“Now put your finger in your mouth. Lick it off before you fuck your hand again.”
“Holy fucking shit. You’re killing me over here.”
Mason laughed, moved his hand faster. “Me, too. Ask me what I’m doing, Gavin.”
The sound of deep breaths filled the line before Gavin did as he was told. “What are you doing?”
“My first finger is at my hole. It’s so damned needy. It wants to be filled. I’m rubbing it but it’s not enough.” And it wasn’t. Mason held the phone between his shoulder and ear so he could use one hand to work his cock and the other to tease his asshole.
“Push it in. It’s me. I’m sliding my finger into your ass. I’m going to fuck you with it.”
Mason’s cock jerked against his stomach. “That’s what I want to hear.” He pushed his finger in. “Give me another one.”
“Whatever you say, boss.”
“Harder, Gavin. You know how I like it. You know I want more.” Mason let a second finger join the first, thrusting in and out of his hole. “My hand is still on you. Should I use my mouth? Let you fuck my throat?”
“Yes. Oh, God, it feels so fucking good.”
“Use your other hand on your balls. Make ‘em feel good, too.” Mason curved his finger, looking for his prostate to send him over the edge. “Harder. Fuck harder,” he told Gavin.
“Fuck,” Gavin groaned out. “I’m coming. Damn, I shot all the way up my chest.”
Mason pushed, rubbed his finger on his prostate, and watched as come pumped out of him, landing on his stomach, in his belly button, ran down his side. It was like all the pressure inside him built up and then just exploded, and it was gone. “Jesus, I needed that.”
“Yeah,” Mason’s voice sounded scratchier than it usually did. “I did, too. Felt good.”
“You feel good.”
Gavin didn’t respond, but Mason could hear him breathing.
“I had a shitty day, music man. Didn’t really want to deal with anyone. Didn’t want to talk to anyone…except you. Thought you should know that.” Because it was true, and Mason would never be a liar.
“Yeah… I feel the same. It’s crazy, the connection I feel. But I’m right there with you.”
Mason found himself smiling. He wasn’t the sappy type. Hell, he’d never really talked to a man he was with the way he did Gavin, not even Isaac. But again, he wasn’t a liar, either. The one thing he didn’t want to do was pretend with Gavin. They were both
on this journey of living their lives, and holding any of that back wouldn’t be true to it. “It’s the sex. Good sex can change your life.”
Gavin laughed, and Mason knew neither of them thought it was just about the sex.
“My time between orgasm and sleep is about used up. Don’t clean yourself off. Sleep with your come on your body and pretend it’s mine.”
He was about to hang up when Gavin said, “Wait.”
“Yes?”
“Thanks. For everything.”
Mason felt this contentment sort of ease through him, settle into his muscles and bones. “Nothing to thank me for.” And there wasn’t. Somehow the two of them ended up in this together.
***
“Remember your promise to me, Gavin. A good man keeps his word. It’s not good for him when he gets agitated. It takes days to recover sometimes, and—”
“Do you really think I would purposely hurt my own father?” Is that the way she saw him?
“That’s not what I’m saying, but the truth is, you’ve hurt him before. You’ve hurt both of us. You’ve hurt yourself.”
It always came back to that. And how in the hell did his sexuality affect them? It was his life, and it made the distance between them grow even more that his mom would rather he live a lie his whole life than “hurt” them by being true to himself.
“Maybe you don’t see it like that. You may think you’re a homosexual, but that’s the devil’s—”
“That’s enough!” Gavin paced away from her before he said something he couldn’t take back. “I know you don’t understand, and I know you were raised to believe certain things, but don’t tell me I don’t know who I am. Don’t tell me that I’ve hurt you both by being me.”
His mom shook her head. “Gavin…I…we just worry about you so much.”
He sighed, walked over and kissed her cheek. “I know, Mom. I’m going to get in there. You go get your hair done and then come back. We’ll be here, and Dad will be okay. I promise.”
He left his mom to go on her way. Gavin made his way to the locked ward where they kept dementia patients. He checked in at the font desk, trying to hold back that anger surging through him. “How’s he doing today?” Gavin asked, probably stalling.
