Love on Pointe Omnibus

by Colette Davison

  The scruffy look really did suit Mason. He was wearing tatty trainers that looked like they might fall apart at any moment and ripped jeans that should probably end up in the bin rather than a washing machine. His top half wasn't anywhere near as shoddy, but David found himself wishing that Mason wasn't wearing that black T-shirt or the dark green, unbuttoned shirt over the top. He was glad Mason had rolled the sleeves of the over-shirt up, because it allowed him to get a good look at Mason's arms, which were willowy despite having strong, clearly defined muscles.

  David really had fallen into some kind of weird alternate reality where he was somehow telling himself that it was okay to lust after his much younger neighbour. Christ, it was stupid. Mason was probably half his age and had no reason to be interested in him. He told himself he was letting a pair of stunning blue eyes woo him because he was lonely. Going out to a bar or using a dating app would be a more profitable use of his time. He could hook up with a guy closer to his own age, because there was no way that the handsome bundle of energy cooking for him was going to be interested in him.

  "There we go," he said once he'd unfolded the two chairs and stood them by the table he'd just finished building. "All done."

  "Great timing," Mason said.

  He carried two bowls over to the table with a couple of forks.

  "Looks great," David said, sitting down.

  The food smelled great too. The bowls were full of bow pasta tossed in green pesto sauce with strips of grilled chicken, shredded lettuce, and halved cherry tomatoes. David wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but it wasn't something that looked and smelled so mouth-wateringly great.

  Mason grinned at him as he handed one of the forks over. "Tuck in."

  David chewed a mouthful of pasta and chicken, savouring the delicious, earthy tastes. "This is really good," he said once he'd swallowed and washed it down with a sip of chilled water.

  He wondered if he should have nipped back to his house to grab a bottle of wine. He had a nice Chianti that would have gone wonderfully with the dish.

  "What did you expect? Beans on toast?"

  "The thought had crossed my mind." David hoped the smirk on his face told Mason he was joking.

  "When I was about thirteen, my sisters and I started taking it in turns to cook," Mason explained. "One night a week each."

  "Cooking for nine must have been hard going."

  Mason shrugged. "Sometimes there were more, sometimes less. Most of my sisters had moved out by that point. Some of them had partners and kids of their own. But they always came back for their night of the week." Mason's eyes softened as he spoke, suggesting that pleasant memories had drifted into his mind.

  "Your sisters all live close to your parents?"

  Mason nodded. "Yeah. I'm the only one who moved away." He stared at David for a few seconds, his expression thoughtful. "I keep going on about myself, but I know practically nothing about you." He bit his lower lip. "Sorry. Not everyone is as free and easy with personal stuff as I am. You don't have to tell me anything."

  Maybe that was precisely why David felt he wanted to share some details of his life with the young man. He certainly felt like he could talk to him for hours. Maybe over that bottle of wine after dinner—if Mason was willing.

  "What do you want to know?" he asked, before chewing thoughtfully on another mouthful of pasta.

  Mason hesitated, running his fingertip around the rim of his cup. His lips pursed thoughtfully, and his eyes dipped, focusing on nothing. David knew he was staring, his gaze taking in every curve and angle of Mason's face and the way the light from the naked bulb above their heads left highlights on his nose, cheeks, and brow.

  Mason lifted his gaze, catching David in the act of staring. What David should have done was look away and gone back to eating, but instead he held Mason's look steadily, his mouth curving upwards as Mason's did the same.

  "That's a big house you've got," Mason said. "You can't be all alone in there."

  Good question. Still holding Mason's curious gaze, David pushed the remnants of his pasta around the bowl absently. "Would you believe me if I told you I was?"

  "You're single?" Mason's eyebrows lifted slightly.

  David felt like they were playing a game of chicken with one another, daring the other to be the first to break eye contact. He had no intention of giving in. Mason's eyes were beautiful, and being their sole focus made him buzz with desire.

  "I am." He shifted his position slightly. "I've been married twice and divorced twice. I never had kids." His stomach sank as Mason finally looked away.

  "I'm sorry your marriages didn't work out."

  Fuck, he thinks I'm straight. "I'm not sorry," David assured him. "I still get on with them both. I even still love my first wife, Rebecca, but I wasn't in love with her, if that makes sense?"

  Mason's chin dipped a fraction in understanding.

  "As for my second wife…" David heaved in a sigh and set his fork down, pushing his bowl aside. "It was a marriage of convenience for us both. As soon as it stopped being convenient, we parted. We're still friends, but the marriage meant nothing to either of us."

  Mason's lips twitched as though he wanted to ask a question, but for whatever reason was holding it back.

  David brushed his hand down his thigh towards his knee, unsure how he could bring up his sexuality without blatantly coming on to Mason—although he was no longer sure it would be a bad thing if he did. The way Mason had held his stare for so long… Either the young man felt the same lust he did, or David had no clue how to read guys.

  "Do you want me to help you put the bed together?" he asked.

  Mason looked round at the remaining boxes. "I've already taken up too much of your time." When he turned back round, David saw the young man was blushing.

  "It's no trouble," David said. "You need somewhere to sleep tonight."

  Mason's eyes sparkled. "Does that mean you're not offering to come back to help another day?"

  Those words sent a shiver running through David. They counted as flirting, didn't they?

  He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Why put it off to another day, when I'm here and willing?"

  "To help?" Mason asked, his lips remaining slightly parted once the words had left them.

  "With the bed." David couldn't help but notice his voice had dropped at least an octave.

  Mason cleared his throat and stood, grabbing both bowls. "I'll wash up. Then, if you really want to help me build a bed, I'm not going to complain."

  "Want some help with that?"

  Mason shook his head. "It might not be very comfy, but that sofa has got your name on it right now."

  "Do you like wine?" David asked, standing. To hell with caution.

  Mason paused, his gaze seeking out and finding David's once again.

  "A couple of glasses of Chianti might make bed-building go faster," David said.

  "Sounds nice."

  David felt his heart skip. "Great. I'll be right back."

  It didn't take David long to retrieve the bottle of Chianti, a corkscrew, and a couple of wine glasses. Even so, by the time he got back to the flat, Mason had finished washing up and was lounging on the sofa. After setting the glasses down on the table, David pulled the cork out of the bottle with a resounding pop and poured them both a generous amount.

  He handed one glass to Mason, then sat down on the other end of the sofa with his own. There wasn't much distance between them, but he longed to close it and not so innocently allow their knees to knock together or his fingertips to graze against Mason's leg; anything to show Mason he was interested, in case it wasn't already obvious.

  "So, you know all about my love life," he said. "What about yours?"

  Mason took a long, slow sip of wine, his gaze sweeping over David before settling on his face. "I'm about as single as it gets."

  "Really?" David asked, hoping he sounded surprised rather than relieved. "I find it hard to believe that you don't have a girl
waiting for you somewhere." He'd chosen his words carefully, and held his breath for Mason's response.

  "I'm not into girls."

  Thank God. Not that he'd made his own sexual preferences clear, and he had no idea how to do so without crossing a line he wouldn't be able to backtrack over, if he was misreading all the signs.

  "No guy waiting back at home for you?" he asked in as nonchalant a tone as he could manage.

  He wasn't sure why his attraction was so heightened, why he found this young man so alluring. Maybe it was because he'd been sex-starved recently. As much as he had enjoyed going to bars to hook up with men (or women), he'd virtually become invisible in the last few years, especially to men. Yet here was Mason, who not only seemed to enjoy his company, but was flirting with him as well. At least he hoped that was what was going on between them. It was possible that this was simply Mason's personality and that he was reading too much into everything the young man was saying.

  Mason shook his head, then tapped the wine glass against his lips. "We should put the bed together, if that's still the plan."

  What other plan would there be? It was too much to hope that they'd fall into each other's arms on Mason's not very comfortable sofa.

  "That's the plan," David replied.

  He took Mason's wine glass and stood them both on the table. Then, together, they lifted the boxes and the mattress into Mason's bedroom. Once they'd set everything down, David had a quick glance around. The room was virtually bare. A suitcase was lying flat on its side at one edge of the room, the top closed but not zipped up. Beside it was a black sports bag which looked full. There was also a brand-new quilt still in its wrapper and some bedding in a jute carrier bag. That was it. No furniture except the flat-packed bed. No personal effects on display. He'd expected to see boxes of belongings either in here or in the living area, but there was nothing, which left him wondering where Mason had slept last night.

  "Did you buy yourself a wardrobe or a chest of drawers?" he asked as they knelt down and began opening boxes.

  "I'm going to get more stuff a bit at a time. Furnishing a flat from scratch isn't cheap. With paying the deposit and a month's rent, I'm a bit cash-strapped now."

  From Mason's matter-of-fact tone, David could tell that the young man wasn't trying to elicit sympathy or offers of help.

  "That makes sense," David said. "You've got the essentials."

  "Somewhere to relax, somewhere to eat, and somewhere to sleep." Mason grinned. "I'll probably save up for a TV before I bother with a wardrobe."

  "A wardrobe would be a lot cheaper."

  Mason shrugged. "I don't mind living out of my suitcase for a while. I'll be right back."

  David looked through the instructions while he waited for Mason to return. Like the others, they were mostly pictorial. When the young man came back, he was carrying their wine glasses and the bottle, which he put down within easy reach.

  Over the next hour, they put the bed together, drank wine, and chatted. Not that it felt like an hour, as the time had slipped by quickly. David laughed more in that short time than he had in weeks. The wine warmed him from within, and by the time the bed was together, the bottle was empty. Neither of them had drunk enough to be out of control, but they'd definitely both had enough to be more relaxed.

  There really were no more excuses for David to stay now. Despite that, he sat on the floor, twirling his wine glass by the stem in a slow circle as Mason unpacked the quilt and bedding and made the bed. When he was done, the young man flopped back onto the bed, whose mattress was springy enough to bounce him up and down. He lay with his hands tucked beneath his head, grinning at David.

  "Thanks for all your help. Half my stuff would probably still be sitting up on the pavement if you hadn't stepped in."

  David had to force himself to shut his mouth so he wouldn't gape gormlessly at Mason. A fantasy ran through his head of him getting onto the bed beside Mason, or better yet, straddling him, so he could kiss him and touch him. But this wasn't some adult version of Wonderland, and everything he did would have repercussions.

  Mason sat up and clasped his hands loosely between his knees as he stared at David. "I've had a really nice afternoon. Thanks."

  "And evening," David said. "It's getting late."

  "You probably have to go?"

  It was a question, not a statement. Did that make it an invitation? David didn't want to find his way back out of the rabbit hole and go back to the lonely reality of his life, but he couldn't think of a reason to stay. There was no more furniture to put together; he couldn't even suggest that they finish the wine, because they'd already done that.

  David leaned forward to retrieve Mason's wine glass and the empty bottle before standing. "You know where I live if you ever want some company," he said. "I know moving to a new city can be lonely."

  "Yeah," Mason agreed. "It is." His bright blue gaze pierced David, stopping him from turning and walking out of the room. "I spent more money on the bed than the sofa."

  A lump formed in David's throat. That had to be an invitation. He hoped it was, although there was still the nagging doubt that he was misreading the signs—that Mason wasn't as interested in him as David prayed he was.

  "But if you want to go, that's okay," Mason said, a flicker of doubt flashing across his face.

  "I don't want to go," David said.

  Mason patted the mattress. "Then, why don't you join me?"

  Chapter Three

  Mason

  Mason found himself holding his breath as he waited for David to do something. Anything would have done. He was half-expecting a look of horror to cross David's face and for him to bolt like a rabbit. He hoped that wouldn't happen, but he was prepared for it. Some guys were natural flirts and didn't know it. David could be one of those guys, and the thought of fooling about with someone half his age might not have entered his head.

  But then David set the empty wine bottle and the glasses back down on the floor and approached the bed. Mason caught his lower lip between his teeth, looking up so he could maintain eye contact with David. He could see the desire in David's eyes, coupled with anxiety. To reassure him, Mason caught hold of his hand and tugged it gently to encourage David to sit beside him. David did, their knees touching as Mason angled himself so they were facing one another.

  For a couple of seconds, they did nothing but stare at each other. Then Mason leaned in to kiss David. Even in that moment, he was afraid that David would pull away. But a second after their lips touched, David pressed into the kiss, his hand slipping to the back of Mason's head to hold him close. His facial hair tickled Mason's skin, which only added to the ripple of desire created by the kiss.

  "Do you make a habit of seducing your neighbours?" David asked as their lips parted. A slight smirk settled on his lips.

  "Is that what I'm doing?" Mason responded, raising an eyebrow. "I thought you were seducing me. The wine was a nice touch, by the way."

  "And dinner wasn't?"

  Mason couldn't help but laugh. At the time he'd suggested cooking for David, it really had just been a thank you gesture. But by the end of the meal, he'd been confused and hopeful about what was going on between them, and he hadn't been wrong. There had been some sort of lustful spark pinging back and forth between the two of them. They were both lonely. Both seeking comfort and companionship. Why not find that in each other?

  "I don't normally hit on younger men," David told him.

  "I don't normally have one-night stands."

  What he wasn’t about to tell David was that he’d only ever had two boyfriends, Adam and Christian, the second of whom had been a very short-lived relationship.

  Mason pursed his lips. "Does my age bother you?" As he spoke, he ran his fingers over the back of David's hand, which was resting on the bed. "We're both consenting adults. I'm definitely not drunk. I know what I'm doing." He dipped his face to kiss David's cleanly shaved neck. "I know what I want."

  "I was worried it might both
er you," David replied, his voice lower and huskier than it had been seconds before. "I'm old enough to be your father."

  Mason looked up, grinning. "Trust me, you're not old enough to be my father. Six older sisters, remember? My dad's in his seventies. I'm pretty sure you're not."

  "I'm forty-nine."

  "See? Nowhere near old enough to be my dad." He was glad to hear David laugh, to feel the tension slip away from the older man's hand, which he was still caressing. "I wasn't even sure you were into guys."

  "I'm bisexual."

  Mason mulled that over. Given that he'd been married twice, it made sense that David was into both men and women. Not that Mason cared. All that mattered was that, right now, David was into him.

  "So, do you want to carry on talking or move on to something else?" he asked.

  David chuckled. "You were the one asking the questions." He kissed Mason's jaw. "But I think I'd like to move past conversation now."

  David wrapped his arms around Mason and pushed him onto the bed. Having David's strong body draped over him made Mason's pulse quicken, and he scrambled to undo the buttons on David's shirt. There were too many and they were too small, but he managed it while David trailed tickling kisses down his throat.

  As soon as he'd got David's shirt off, he managed to sit up far enough to pull his own over-shirt and T-shirt off. As soon as he'd done that, he put his hands all over David again, feeling the taut muscles of the older man's back and the strength in his arms.

  David was leaning on one arm, but his other hand roamed over Mason, first making broad sweeps over Mason's chest and abs before slipping down to undo his belt and jeans. Mason shivered and moaned as David's hand slipped inside his briefs to stroke his cock, which instantly stirred to attention. David's mouth pressed to his, firm and demanding. He tasted good, with hints of dinner and that full-bodied wine still on his lips.