Owen

Owen

Chapter thirty-nine

By Roy Reinikainen

'I can't hang around here one more day,' Corey thought to himself, as he wandered around his apartment. 'Without Bailey, the place seems as empty as old man Wiggans' head.' He leaned against the kitchen counter and sighed. Parting with Bailey had been as awful as he thought it would be. 'We both knew it needed to be done,' Corey thought. 'But, knowing didn't make things easier for either of us.' He glanced at the cup Bailey had left on the kitchen table, still filled with coffee . . . now cold.

'He hates cold coffee,' Corey thought, as he poured the dark liquid down the drain and washed the cup, wondering, for what had to be the hundredth time, if splitting with Bailey had been the right thing to do. 'It wasn't a spur-of-the-moment decision,' he told himself, also for the hundredth time. 'It hurts to have done something like this, especially since Bailey has been the only person who ever showed genuine interest in Corey, the person. There have been plenty of people who admired Corey, the body. Even though he'd played with a few of them, they meant nothing to him. Bailey, on the other hand, meant a lot.'

As they stood at the apartment's door, Bailey had tenderly embraced Corey and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you," he murmured, close to Corey's ear, "for all you've done for me." He tightened his embrace. "You've taught me to laugh . . . and to love." He rubbed a hand up and down Corey's back. "I feel as if all I've done in our relationship is take. I feel as if I've given you nothing in return."

Corey shook his head, opening and closing his mouth in a vain attempt to speak. "That's not so," he had finally choked out the words. "You've taught me that I am a person worthy of being loved . . . something I never realized, until knowing you." He nuzzled Bailey's neck. "I can't thank you enough for all you've done for me."

"If we're so good for one another," Bailey had sighed, gradually releasing Corey, "why are we both feeling so miserable, right now? I do love you, you know."

Corey nodded his bowed head. "I know. And, I love you."

"But, if either of us forces the other to live in a world we're not cut out for, both of us will end up miserable," Bailey added. "I knew this would eventually happen. If it hadn't been you telling me we should separate, it would . . . eventually . . . have been me." His lips twisted into a semblance of a grin. "You always were so much stronger than I."

He tenderly kissed Corey, this time on the lips. "I'll always be here for you, my handsome southern boy," he murmured. "If you ever need me, I'll come running." Corey gulped a breath of air and jerked a nod.

"Thank you, Bailey," he managed, abandoning his use of Bailey's shortened name, one more piece of their relationship falling away. "I'll do the same for you." He looked away, then back to Bailey, seeing him through a watery gaze. "Be happy," he choked.

"You, too, handsome." Bailey tenderly ran a forefinger over Corey's jaw . . . a last touch. He glanced toward the apartment's door. "I . . . I'd better go."

Corey bowed his head and turned away, so he didn't have to watch the first man he'd ever given his heart to, leave his apartment, and his life.

"Mother, Father," Bailey said, setting his fork down and looking across the expanse of damask fabric covering the dining table in his parents' home. "I know you're concerned about my welfare, and mean well, but please don't try to make me feel good. I feel like hell because Corey feels like hell. No matter what it may seem like, I really do love him, and it is precisely for that reason that we can't be together. Both of us need to be free. If I moved to Riverton, I wouldn't be, and if he stayed in the city, he wouldn't be.

"So . . . let me feel sorry for myself for a little while. I'll get over it. There is one good thing to come of all this. I have realized that all my efforts to create a new me have borne fruit. Not too long ago, I would have written off someone like Corey, without a second thought, already planning for who would follow. Now . . . I feel like crap because he's no longer in my life. Those feelings, as bad as they are, make me feel good, because I feel as if I've become a real person. That's a gift Corey and Owen have given me that no one can take away. I'll forever be in their debt, because, without them, I really don't believe I would have survived long enough to be sitting with you tonight, having dinner."

He looked from his mother to his father. "Is it a deal?" he asked. "If I need cheering up, I'll let you know."

"We both feel your pain, son," George Wilkins said. "This separation has been difficult for both your mother and me, precisely because we both know how much you care for Corey, and because of how much both of us love you. It's always difficult for parents to stand by and watch one of their children face something like this, knowing there's nothing they can do to help."

"We are so very proud of you, Bailey," Louise Wilkins added. "Your father and I will do our best to let you work through your feelings on your own, but, as you're doing that, please realize that we are here, should you need us."

Bailey huffed an emotional breath. "Funny," he murmured, unable to look at either of his parents. "That's the same thing I told Corey."

"Mama!" Owen called, before he, Lucas, Sam, or Jonah, had even opened the screen door. He rushed into the house and took his surprised mother into his arms. "Jonah's told us the wonderful news!"

"About you'n Daniel," Jonah supplied.

"Congratulations, Bea," Lucas smiled, taking his turn to embrace Owen's mother. 'This is hardly the same woman who greeted Owen and me, when we arrived in Riverton,' he thought. The rail-thin, bruised and battered woman had been replaced by a woman who laughed at the slightest provocation. It was now easy to see where her children had gotten their looks. She was on her way to again being the beautiful woman he'd seen in photographs.

Sam self consciously hugged her. "Congratulations, Mrs. Carver."

Bea held Sam at arm's length and gave him a stern look. "Mrs. Carver is my mother. For you, Sam, just as for Lucas, I am Bea." She raised her brows. "Otherwise, you'll be Mister Bridgers, and everyone will get all confused, thinking I'm talking about your father." Sam blushed and nodded. "Congratulations, Bea," he repeated. "I hope you and the doctor are happy together."

"Kids?" Owen interrupted. "Jonah says you're wantin' some more kids."

"That'll be so cool," Lucas smiled, brightly.

"Then, it's all set," Bea laughed, lightly laying an arm over Lucas' shoulders. "You, my young man, have volunteered to take over my morning sickness, my weight gain, back pain, labor pain, and, worst of all, dirty diapers." She smiled at his appalled expression. "Daniel and I will have all the fun and you, my dear friend, will handle . . . ahem . . . everything else. Oh," she said, offhandedly, "Owen will help you with the diapers. He's had some experience, helping with Opie, haven't you sweetheart?" she asked, in a falsely sweet voice.

"Tell you what, Mama. Why don't you and Daniel just go for the fun and skip the children?"

"Because, dear heart, if I'd done that, all those years ago, you would never have been born, and all I would be left with would be a hazy recollection of a single night's fun. All-in-all, I think it was all worth it. I have four wonderful children. Who knows?" she added. "Maybe, whenever Daniel and I get around to it, I'll have twins, and I'll only have to go through all that nasty business once."

Corey crossed the living room of his apartment. He turned when he reached the far wall, then retraced his own steps until he encountered another wall, then repeated the circuit around the room. 'Corey,' he chastised himself. 'You're probably dumb as dirt for assuming too much.' He rubbed his hands over his face. 'I mean, we've only kissed a couple times, held hands, and sorta wrestled around on top of those poor plants out in the field.' He snorted, remembering how he'd picked stray leaves out of Jonah's hair, seeking a reason to touch the younger man. 'Holding hands, kissing, and rolling around on the ground hardly constitutes a reason to leave what I have here and hightail it out to Riverton to be with him.' He scanned the apartment, as if seeing the sparse furnishings for the first time. 'Exactly what is it that I have here?' he asked himself. 'Without Bailey, and school . . . nothing.'

He thought back to a teacher he'd had as a child. The woman always told her students to, "bloom where you are planted, and to not go searching for the greenest field." He looked around his apartment, and, by extension, to the city beyond, and shook his head. 'I'll never be able to grow in this field, especially now that I know there is such a place as Riverton, and such a person as Jonah. Besides, this is not the field in which I was planted. That place is over a thousand miles away, in the misty, pine-covered hills of West Virginia . . . and is a place I hope to never see again.

'So . . . if I'd wanted to stay in the city, I wouldn't have split with Bailey. That means, I must believe moving is inevitable. And, if I move, where else is there to move to but Riverton? But, hell, if I move there, what am I gonna do to earn an income? I'm a teacher! What opportunities does that town have for someone like me? I have hardly any money, and no car, even to drive to a neighboring town, if I was lucky enough to get a job there.' He thought a moment, totaling up his meager savings. 'I could probably make it to Riverton, but I'd never be able to get back if things don't work out. I've got to make the right decision, the first time.'

He glanced at his reflection in the living room window. 'What would Jonah see in me? I'm okay-looking; I've got a killer body.' He smiled. 'Well, I'm beefier than Jonah, but that doesn't take a whole lot. He'd be getting a dirt poor guy with not a whole lot of self confidence. He'd be saddled with a guy who's had a terrible childhood, from which I do not believe I will ever be able to completely recover. But,' Corey thought, 'even with my failings, I think I'm a good person. I'm sure Jonah is. After all, he's very much like Owen, and that man is near-perfect, as far as I'm concerned.'

Corey leaned on the kitchen counter, idly rotating Bailey's empty coffee cup. 'What'll I do if he tells me that he and Sam are still together? From the way he talked, the last time I saw him, I got the feeling that neither of them were really happy. I've not heard anything, though, since coming back home. They could have separated, just like Bail and me . . . or . . . their differences may have been overcome, and they're happy as a pig in a mud puddle.

'What'll I do if they're still together? I don't want to make a fool of myself, assuming that there's more between us than there really is. But, I'll be even more of a fool if I sit around here and do nothing. At least, if I give him a call, I'll know what's happening. Then, whatever the word is, I'll be able to get on with my life.'

'Sure, thing, Corey,' he said aloud. 'If you find that he and Sam have resolved their differences, you're going to be devastated. I mean, you've not heard from him since coming back from Riverton. Why should you assume that he has any feelings for you? At the same time, you haven't contacted him, so what must he think your feelings are? He's probably thinking that you saw that drive out to the field as a pleasant diversion rather than a life-changing moment. Because, that is exactly what it was. My life has not been the same since.'

Corey searched through his book bag, looking for a telephone number. He studied the slip of paper Owen had given him. 'It's the only way I have to get in touch.' He picked up the telephone and slowly dialed the number, gulping a breath. As the phone rang, he sank to a chair to quiet his trembling legs.

'Come on,' he urged someone to answer, making hurry up motions with his free hand. 'I don't know if I'll be able to work up my courage for a second try.'

"Owen!" he shouted, jumping out of the chair at the sound of the familiar voice. "Hi . . . hi . . . it's me, Corey!" He took a deep breath, trying to slow his heartbeat. "How . . . how are you?" He listened as Owen spoke, the soft voice and slight drawl comforting him as nothing in the city ever had. Jonah's slightly deeper voice held the same lazy drawl, the same cadences he'd grown to think of as unique to Owen. It was a comforting voice, a voice which hinted at strong passions, waiting to be released.

While Owen sometime seemed shy, Jonah seemed to exude confidence, his ready smile and sparkling eyes attracting notice as much as his narrow waist and hips, his firm buttocks, and a bulging groin which had felt wonderful pressing against him, as Jonah had laid on top of him, out in the field.

As he listened to Owen's voice on the telephone, Corey could envision his friend's lively grey eyes, his short, disheveled blond hair, his ready smile, and the few faint freckles dusting his nose. He smiled, recalling Owen's tendency to speak with his hands, making expansive gestures, drawing everyone into his stories, smiling all the while. He also recalled how deftly Owen, during that night in the bedroom at the doctor's house, had given Bailey the contact that he sought. Bailey had later told Corey how much that contact meant to him.

"I'd built Owen up into something that wasn't humanly possible to be . . . some sort of saint," Bailey had explained. "He was a goal that I never expected to reach, a goal I had established for myself back before my time in jail." Bailey had shaken his head. "He knew, Corey! He knew, yet he didn't think less of me. Instead, he came up with a way where my wishes could be fulfilled, with no one suffering guilt, the morning after."

"What was it that you wanted, Bail?" Corey had asked, holding Bailey's hand, as they sat on the sofa in his apartment.

"I wanted to touch him. I wanted him to want me to touch him. I wanted to hug him, not so much for some sort of sexual satisfaction, as from a need to say thank you. I never expected the other . . . the masturbation, and the . . . tasting." Bailey had huffed a laugh. "We all joked about feeling a new bond, after that night. For me, at least, it was real. Owen made it real, just as he has made me real."

"Oh . . . Owen," Corey sighed, recalling not only his friend's vibrant personality, but the deep seated sadness which seemed to hover in the background. "It's so good to hear your voice. I'm missing you. I'm missing Lucas, too." He hesitated. "My two brothers.

"Yeah, I've graduated, already. No more school for me, at least as a student. Now, all I've got to do is get a job. Any job openings for a newly minted teacher, in your area?" he asked, trying to sound lighthearted. "Maybe I should set up a school under a tree like Socrates, or Plato, or one of those guys did.

"Um, how are Sam n'Jonah doing? Bailey told me that you and Lucas had finally moved into your new place. Do you see them very often? How's Jonah doing? Is he working on his greenhouses yet? Are they built? Is he growing things already? He's graduated from school, hasn't he? Is he doing okay?"

Owen laughed at the steady stream of questions, like the sound of music to Corey's ears, then told him of Sam and Jonah's separation. "It was the best, for both of 'em, really. Neither of them was happy. Things have worked out well, for Sam at least."

"No kidding? Sam's living with you guys? I mean, for real? Just like that? He and Jonah separate, and he moves in? Where does that leave Jonah? Is he doing okay? Is he living with your mother, or what?"

"Whoa," Owen laughed. "I'll call him in here so you can ask him all those sorta personal questions. Other than moping around a lot, he seems okay to me. He's got a lot on his mind, with the greenhouses, the new business, and stuff."

"What?" Corey almost shouted. "He's there . . . with you guys? Right now? Don't tell me he's moved in with you, too." He smiled at Owen's carefree laughter. "Oh, okay . . . just for dinner. So it's only three-way-kinky, not a nightly orgy, with the four of you guys."

Corey's smile faded as Owen asked how Bailey was doing. "Hadn't you heard?" He swallowed. "Bailey and I decided that neither of us could live in the other's world. He's no more a small-town man, than I am a big city boy. Neither of us could be truly happy, conforming to a life the other wanted. We're still good friends. No," he interrupted himself. "We still love one another; it's just that we can't be together and remain friends. I have to leave the city in order to stay sane. Bailey's got to stay, for the same reason.

"No . . . don't be sorry," he urged. "We're both happy with how things ended. There were some tears n'stuff, but that's mostly over. We speak to one another almost every day and get choked-up some, but . . . we're both doing okay. Best of all, we'll be there for the other, no matter what happens. If we'd stayed together, our eventual separation would have been much worse."

He paused as he heard Lucas call Owen's name, asking who was on the phone. Owen shouted back that he was on the phone with Corey, which elicited a chorus of shouted greetings, along with a couple indecent proposals, which he would have accepted in a heartbeat, especially if Jonah were to participate.

"Uh, Corey," Owen said, once again speaking. "Jonah's standin' here all sorta jumpy, wanting to talk to you. He keeps grabbin' at me, trying to get the phone, so, I'll talk to you some more later, okay?" He heard Owen's good natured complaint. "What's gotten into you, Jonah? Stop grabbin' at the phone! And, don't even think of tickling me!" he laughed.

Corey heard the muffled sound of the telephone changing hands. He held his breath and couldn't help but grin as he heard Owen's good natured complaint. "Okay, okay, I'll leave." He heard a door close, followed by a brief moment of silence.

"Jonah!" he shouted, when the person he had dreamt of, ever since leaving Riverton, answered. His, "Hi! I've missed you!" cut across Jonah's own exultant greetings. "I know," he nodded. "I should have written or called, or somethin', but . . ." He hesitated, wondering how truthful he should be.

"I didn't know if Sam would mind you talkin' with me. I didn't know if you even would want me to contact you. I . . . I guess I just didn't know what to think, about you or . . . us, or anything. I was hoping there was such a thing as . . . us, but, I didn't know. I guess I was sorta afraid to find out . . . in case there isn't." He took a breath, aware he was babbling. "I wish I had called. I've thought about you, a lot . . . about that walk in the field n'all. I loved that . . . holding your hand, n'kissing you, just being with you, feeling your warmth, hearing your voice, laughing at your humor. Sometimes, late at night, I'd dream that I'm holdin' you, feeling your weight on top of me." He took a shaking breath.

"Oh, Jonah," he cried, the words sounding as if they had been torn from his soul. "I wanna come home . . ." His voice cracked, as he brushed away a single tear from his cheek. "I wanna come home, to you." He sank to a chair, no longer confident his legs would be able to support him, and closed his eyes, not knowing what to expect. He'd never bared his soul as he'd just done . . . never laid his emotions on the line. He felt as if his entire future hung in the balance.

He heard Jonah take a halting, husky breath. "Yes . . ." There was another ragged breath. "I'll be waitin'."

Sam and Lucas looked up as Owen closed the door to Lucas' study, leaving Jonah behind. "How're things?" Lucas asked, noticing Owen's quiet return.

Owen shrugged. "Corey and Bailey have decided that they can no longer be a couple. Neither of 'em think they'll be able to thrive in the other's world. So . . . Bailey's stayin' in the city, and Corey . . ." another shrug, "I don't know. He didn't say what he's gonna do, other than to sorta jokingly ask if there're any teaching jobs here in Riverton." Owen eased himself into one of the leather chairs. On his right, Lucas bowed his head. On a chair, in front of him, Sam blinked, flicked a glance toward the closed study door, then grinned slightly when he saw Owen watching him.

"Maybe there'll be something over in Evanston," Sam suggested. He wanted to stand up, wave his arms, and shout, 'I know where he can get a job!' He restrained himself. Saying anything about jobs would give away some of Bailey's surprise, although he was confident that Bailey himself would be hoping Corey would move to Riverton. Sam grinned to himself. 'I'm thinking that Bailey controls things in much the same way Owen does. People don't realize their lives are being changed by his actions, until after the fact. Thankfully, Bailey's looking out for everyone's welfare. If he wanted to do nasty things to people . . .' Sam suppressed a shudder. 'I'm sure he could manage.'

"Are the guys doing okay? Corey and Bailey, I mean," Lucas asked, concern coloring his voice. "Did Corey sound okay? Did he say anything about how Bailey's handling things?"

Owen slowly nodded. "Yeah, he says that, between them, things are okay. There are still a few tears, but the two of 'em are still good friends. They speak on the phone every day n'stuff, y'know, checking on one another, and things. I don't know what Corey's planning on doing. He asked about a job here, but he knows there're no jobs for a teacher in Riverton. Still, I think this is where he wants to be.

"He sounded kinda nervous . . . all wound up, or something. I'm not sure what that's all about . . . though I have a couple ideas," he finished, in a lower voice. His glance flicked to the closed door to the study. "Since Corey said he can't stay in the city, he must be planning to leave." Owen's eyes went distant with a speculative look, focusing only when Sam began to speak.

"His hometown was that bad?" Sam murmured. He'd never been told the story of Corey's past, though he had been able to surmise a great deal from the few times he'd heard Lucas and Owen speak of their friend's childhood. Sam silently began to massage one of Owen's stocking-clad feet. "You're next," he grinned in Lucas' direction. "I swear," he laughed, "A guy massages your feet and you'll do anything he asks."

"Damn right," Lucas laughed, as he rested a foot on Sam's lap, next to Owen's. He wiggled his toes, demanding his share of attention. "Besides, it's not so bad a deal for any of us. You massage our feet, and we get to massage all of you."

"With our tongues," Owen said, giving Sam a lewd smile, and wiggling his tongue. "I especially like it," Owen continued, his eyes twinkling, "when Lucas and I have to clean you up after you get yourself all sticky." Lucas pushed the heel of his foot against the bulge of Sam's groin, rubbing it up and down.

"Aw, guys," Sam theatrically groaned. "Does this mean y'all are getting frisky and we're gonna have to have sex again? I bet I'm gonna break some sort of record, or something, keeping two confirmed bottoms satisfied." He yelped as Owen reached out to poke him in the side.

"He's rewriting history again," Lucas laughed. "Who was squealing, 'harder, harder,' this morning, as we took turns at his hole?"

"Oh, yeah," Sam giggled, doing his best to avoid the two men who were both reaching for him, intent on tickling him. "I was only shouting for you to go harder 'cause your thing's soooo small I couldn't feel it. Same with you, Owen," he laughed, squirming in Owen's embrace.

"My theory is that you were permanently stretched out of shape by my little brother. I do use the term little, advisedly." Owen's eyes crinkled as he broadly smiled.

"The grand canyon," Lucas murmured, in an aside to Owen. "It is magnificent, nonetheless. And, he does have marvelous control of his muscles, but, still, it is sorta stretched out of shape. Of course, I would never have said anything about him . . . you know . . . being so . . . loose, but I never expected him to dangle the fact that he's bigger than us in our faces."

"Ha!" Sam shouted. "My dick doesn't dangle."

Jonah sniffed, and wiped his watery eyes on his shirt sleeve. "I've never heard of a guy callin' someone long distance, just so the two of 'em could cry together," he said, with an unsteady laugh. "Aw, geez, Corey, I'm wanting to hold you, not like we did out in the field, but skin-to-skin, all hot n'sweaty. Bein' naked with you would be so cool. In fact, we don't even have to have sex. I just want to be with you, to touch you, and to have you hold me." Jonah chuckled, brushing the last of the moisture from his eyes. "Of course, being all hard n'stuff with you would be cool, too. I love the taste of sperm. I haven't had a whole lot of experience, but, geez, I'm achin' to taste yours."

"I've thought about that a lot, too," Corey said, as he groped himself, imagining Jonah's hand gripping his stiffening penis. "Damn! I wish you were here, right now. I'm all hard, imagining being naked, and stuff, with you."

"Yeah?" Jonah asked. "I'm not naked, but . . ." He paused. "Hold on a sec." Corey could hear some faint shuffling. "I'm back," Jonah announced. "I'm not naked, but I am all hard. It's sticking out of the fly of my jeans, wishing you were suckin' on it. Since I'm at the guys' house, I can't strip-off, so I can play with my butthole, like I like. This'll have to do, at least for tonight. What about you? Are you naked yet?" he asked.

"Fuuuuck," Corey managed, skinning off his shorts and underwear, then pulling off his t-shirt. "I've just stripped, so yeah, I'm bare-assed naked." He slowly stroked himself. "Do you like to fuck, Jonah?" he asked, reaching between his own legs and toying with the fleshy ring of his butthole. "Geez, I love sliding into a guy who's lying on his back, so we can kiss as I'm fuckin' him. I love being fucked, too. I'm fingering my hole, now," he added, beginning to breathe deeply. "It'd be so cool to be squatting on your cock. You could shoot up inside me as I spray my load all over your face. That'd give me a good excuse to lick your face clean."

"Don't forget my asshole," Jonah groaned, his breathing speeding up. "Geez, I wish I was naked," he mumbled. "I've got a big mirror in Owen's and my room. I've never had a chance, but I think it'd be so cool to watch as you and I play."

"Oh, yeah," Corey groaned.

"I love sloppy kisses," Jonah sighed. "I've never swapped sperm, though I think tongue-baths are way hot, especially if either of us is all sticky with a fresh load." He paused, as he worked on his cock. "Are you playing with yourself?" he asked. "Imagining sliding your dick into me until you shoot?" He groaned, then continued speaking. "I love it when sperm oozes out and runs down my leg. You'll lick it all clean, won't you?" he murmured. "Both my butthole, and my leg?" Jonah's breath shuddered. "I'll do you."

"Fuuuuck yeah, I will. Tasting my stuff, fresh from your hole . . . geez," Corey groaned, his hand sliding easily over the length of his penis, lubricated with pre-cum.

"I'd like to try some of that oil wrestling you talked about," he said. "I think it'd be so freaking hot to get all slippery, sliding around, with you fucking me, then me doing you, shooting our loads all over ourselves, then squirming around, spreading our spunk all over. I've jerked off lots, thinking about you, dripping with oil, slidin' around on top of me."

"I'm about ready . . . to . . . pop," Jonah managed. "I'm gonna shoot onto my hand, then lick it clean." His groan and ragged breathing pushed Corey beyond the point of no return.

"Shoot for me, Jonah," he groaned, as he sat back on a kitchen chair, spread his legs wide, and sprayed sperm over his chest and belly. On the other end of the line, he could picture Jonah, in the same position, sitting on a chair, his legs stretched in front of him, with his thick cock sticking out of the fly of his jeans. Jonah was slowly stroking himself, just as Corey liked to do. As Jonah's orgasm approached, Corey imagined the younger man throwing his head back and gasping for a breath. He paused for just a second, then, the first jet of sperm splashed into his waiting hand, a pearlescent puddle in his palm. The second shot added to the first.

"Is your hand full?" Corey asked. Jonah made some sort of affirmative grunt, still coming down from his orgasm. "Lick it for me, handsome," Corey ordered. "Let me hear you slurp up your own jiz, knowing that . . . soon . . . it's gonna be me who's lickin' your hand, tasting your sweet stuff." Jonah's low groan was followed by the sound of him slurping and sucking on his hand.

Corey could imagine Jonah's sperm-coated lips begging to be kissed.

"Come home, Corey," Jonah murmured. "I'll be waiting."

"I have to agree with you, Lucas," Owen continued, sneaking a glance toward the closed door to Lucas' study, wondering what was taking his brother so long. "Sam's hole is pretty impressive. I can see why Jonah spent so much time there."

"My dick," Sam said, raising his voice, "does not dangle. It sticks out straight, and if you guys weren't always either kneeling in front of me, crawling around on your knees, begging like some sort of puppy dogs, wantin' to be fed, or showing me your holes, asking to be filled, we'd get a lot more work done around this place. The grand canyon," he muttered, giving the two unrepentant men, facing him, a dirty look, then breaking into chuckles, when Lucas playfully began panting like a dog, and Owen howled.

"Jonah!" Owen smiled, breaking off mid-howl, as his brother left the study, absently brushing the back of a hand over his mouth. "How're things with our newly-minted teacher? Is he gonna come?"

For some reason, Jonah seemed slightly embarrassed by the question. He licked his lips, then raked his fingers through his hair, then brushed his other hand over his jeans, as if wiping it clean. "Yeah, he's plannin' on coming out. In fact, he's thinkin' of maybe staying," Jonah answered, appearing to be half in a daze. He flopped onto the sofa, frowning, as he wondered why both Owen and Lucas had one of their stocking feet resting on Sam's lap. He mentally shrugged.

"He decided to come, while we were talkin'." Jonah's daze-like condition had been replaced by barely-controlled excitement. "Guys!" He stood, his nervous energy suddenly needing release. "I better get home, and leave you to practicing your were-wolf interpretations, or something," he added, as an afterthought, turning toward the apartment's door. "I've got some thinking, or something . . . to do," he murmured, distractedly, waving over his shoulder as he left the three confused men behind.

"I wonder what that's all about." Lucas looked from a bewildered Sam to a calculating Owen.

"Corey's coming out for a visit," Sam supplied the answer. "S'all I know."

"We've deduced that!" Owen laughed, as he thought of the expression of joy, barely-held-in-check, on his brother's face. 'Corey?' he asked himself. 'Corey and Jonah?'

"I hope you're right," Sam murmured, continuing to look toward the apartment's door, answering Owen's unspoken question. "It'd be perfect."

"You bein' a match maker?" Owen grinned.

"I want everyone to be as happy as I am," Sam responded, a slight blush coloring his cheeks.

"Corey and Jonah?" Lucas asked, his glance turning to the apartment's door, finally catching the unspoken communication passing between the room's two other occupants.

Owen rolled his eyes, nodding in Lucas' direction, but speaking to Sam. "Our lover's a little slow off the mark, isn't he?"

"But, we love him, anyhow." Sam slid off his chair, crawled the few feet separating him from Lucas, then hugged him around the waist, resting his head on Lucas' chest, while Lucas returned the embrace, surprised both by the words and the display of affection. "And, we both do love him, don't we, Owen?" Sam asked. "In the past few weeks, I'm findin' that he's become someone I wouldn't want to be without." He used his teeth to tease one of Lucas' nipples through his shirt, then kissed his lips when Lucas leaned forward.

Lucas tenderly ran his fingers of one hand through Sam's thick black hair, while holding out his other arm, extending an invitation to Owen to join him on the sofa. "Truly?" he asked Sam, as Owen snuggled close and began to nuzzle his neck. "Truly, that's how you feel?"

Sam nodded, his head still buried in Lucas' shirt, as he wrapped one arm around Owen's waist. "I wasn't kidding, when I said that I wished everyone could be as happy as I am. I'm in love with two wonderful men, both of whom love me."

"Well . . ." Corey huffed, dropping a second bag at the side of the first. "That's everything I can carry." He looked around the apartment he'd lived in since coming to school. The place he'd often thought of as dreary, suddenly seemed like the only home he'd ever known. 'It's certainly the only home I've ever known that held any sort of happiness,' he thought to himself, as he kicked off his tennis shoes and stretched out on the living room sofa. 'I'll just rest a bit, before I shower, and head to the airport,' he sighed, closing his eyes and mentally reviewing his list of things to do, before leaving.

'Purchase plane tickets . . . check. Ask Bailey to look out after my place, just in case I have to come back . . . check.' Before he could think of a third item, sleep overtook him . . . and he dreamt he was in Riverton.

He and Jonah were walking shoulder-to-shoulder down a narrow dirt road, the over-arching branches of the oaks casting dappled shade. 'I've never really known what it meant to be happy . . .' he began.

'Until I met you,' Jonah finished the sentence, snaking an arm around Corey's waist and pulling him closer. 'I suspected you were . . . the one . . . the first time we met,' Jonah murmured, sneaking a glance in Corey's direction. 'But, I knew the moment you kissed me, out in the field. Remember?' he asked. 'You treated me . . . differently than I'd ever been treated. As an equal. Not as a close friend, or the brother of a good friend, or as a son, or . . . whatever. We were equal. You could laugh and tease. I didn't have to watch out what I said. For the first time in my life, I felt truly free. That's why I was actin' so silly, I guess.'

Jonah stopped, and turned toward Corey, still holding him. 'I knew you were perfect for me.' He looked away, then back, the pain of his separation from Sam still felt. 'I didn't know, though, if I could be someone you'd be interested in.' He leaned close and brushed Corey's lips with his own, their breath mingling during the barest hint of a touch.

'I love you, Corey Hatfield,' he murmured, as he nuzzled Corey's neck.

'And, I love you, Jonah Carver,' Corey sighed. 'Oh, how I love you.'

Jonah approached his mother's house at a dead run, then leapt onto the porch and swung the screen door open. "I'm in love!" he shouted, not caring if his sisters heard him. He wanted to tell the whole world how he felt. He'd been in a daze when he left Owen's place. His fears that Corey might not be interested in him had been unfounded. Neither of them had told the other of their love, but the word hung, unsaid, coloring everything they said.

Bea and Daniel had been sitting side-by-side on the sofa, enjoying the quiet in the soft light of a dim lamp, when Jonah burst into the room. Bea glanced toward Daniel, then Jonah, not quite sure how to interpret her quiet son's behavior. "Love, with a capital L," Jonah added, his smile bright, as he tugged his mother to her feet, hugged her, then swung her in a circle, his arms around her waist. "I am so freaking happy!" he laughed, releasing his breathless mother, to hug the doctor, then turn in a circle, his arms extended and his head thrown back.

Bea laughed, overjoyed to see Jonah finally emerge from the shell into which he'd retreated ever since his separation with Sam. "And, might Daniel and I be told whom this lucky person is?" she asked, taking Daniel's hand. She knew exactly how her son felt. Since Daniel had asked her to marry him, she felt as if she never stopped smiling.

"Corey!" Jonah said, his mouth seeming to caress the name before reluctantly parting with it. He flopped into a chair and slouched down, his legs stretched out in front him, and looked from the doctor to his mother. "He's graduated, and is coming to Riverton! He says it's for a visit, but I'm going to do my best to see that he stays."

Jonah almost sprung from the chair, his nervous energy too great for him to remain sitting for long. "Mama, Doc . . . this is someone for me. He isn't feeling sorry for me 'cause of my father and my childhood. He's not treatin' me like I was his son, or something. He laughs, and makes me laugh, and feel good. I wanna touch him. I wanna kiss him. I wanna climb all over him!"

He turned back to his mother, wearing an embarrassed expression.

Bea laughed, "It's okay, Jonah. There isn't that much difference between what two men do, from what a man and a woman do." She ignored Daniel's soft snort of agreement, then continued. "I expect that in addition to you wanting to climb all over him, you most likely want him to climb all over you, too. Am I right?"

Jonah blushed. "Do I ever!"

"You're not going to shock either Daniel or me, unless you and Corey decide to be intimate in front of Abigail or Opie." She held up a finger. "Please note that I do not consider holding hands and hugging, as being too much for the girls to handle. They need to realize the varieties and various expressions of love the world has to offer. Beyond that, though, stay in your room and lock your door." She flicked an amused glance toward Daniel, who bowed his head.

"We all know how Opie thinks it's okay to barge in, sometimes at awkward moments."

"Ahem," Jonah grinned. "I've never had it happen to me . . . personally," he teased. "Have you?"

"It's not necessary for you to know all of our business," Daniel murmured, as he smiled and wiggled his eyebrows at the younger man.

"Yes, quite," Bea smiled, hoping her son didn't see her blush.

~ to be continued ~

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