Owen

Owen

Chapter Forty-three

By Roy Reinikainen

"Alright." Jonah pushed the door to the dark apartment shut with his foot, a signal to the guys next door that he wanted privacy. He and Corey'd said their good-byes to Bea, Daniel, and the girls, and made a hasty retreat, both eager to complete what had been started on the grass, at the side of the house. Opie's little pep talk, combined with Daniel's and Bea's, had broken the emotional "ice," and now they wanted to be together . . . alone.

Since Corey had come to Riverton, both men seemed to be dancing around one another, not quite sure what to do, or how to continue. Each claimed their actions had been based on fear. As he'd told the doctor, Jonah was afraid of doing something wrong, of behaving like his father. Corey, on the other hand, was afraid that Jonah, Riverton, the Carver family . . . everything . . . was too good to be true, and didn't want to do anything which might jeopardize the dream he was living.

The two men stepped away from the door, but when Corey reached for the light switch, Jonah stopped him. "Back at Mama's," he murmured, his rich voice, low, "you said that I had to catch you before I could keep you." He pulled Corey to him and buried his nose in the hair at the side of his head, inhaling deeply, intoxicated with the scent and sheer maleness of the man in his arms. "Well . . . Mister Hatfield . . ." he murmured, the merest hint of a breath against Corey's ear. "I've caught you."

He tenderly kissed Corey's neck and jaw, then slowly ran the tip of his tongue over his slightly parted lips. "I've caught you," he repeated. "Now . . ." he teased Corey's lips again, the corners of his own mouth slightly curling upward as Corey melted against him, sighing with pleasure. "Now," Jonah repeated, backing off far enough to focus on his partner's eyes and face, "I intend to keep you." He tenderly touched his lips to Corey's, in a chaste kiss. 'This is the way things are supposed to be. We . . . I am relaxed for the first time since he arrived. Thank you, Daniel,' he thought to himself.

"I am in love with you, Mister Hatfield . . . all of you." Jonah's murmurs were interspersed with slow kisses. The two men would teasingly touch one another's lips, then stop, content to be held. A moment later, their lips would touch in a deep, lingering kiss. When they breathlessly parted, Jonah shyly grinned, as he ran a fingertip over Corey's warm cheek.

"I'm in love with your wit, with the sparkle in your eyes, and your laughter. I'm in love with the sound of your voice, and your slow breathing as you sleep at my side. I'm in love with your gentleness when we make love, and the beat of your heart when I lay my head on your chest. There aren't any words to describe the heart-bursting feeling of happiness I feel every time you look at me, and smile.

"That time, at Mama's, during dinner, when you turned to me and winked. I . . . I . . . That wink spoke an unexpected intimacy . . . like being kissed by you, in front of everyone. I felt like crying, I was so happy." He shyly looked up. "Y'see, I've never experienced anything like that . . . anything which made me feel so good." He grinned. "You do that often, Corey." His mouth twisted into a crooked grin. "Even back at Mama's, when you ran out of the house, shoutin' for me to catch you, made me feel special."

The two men continued to embrace one another in the room, lit only by the streetlight from across the street. "Remember, back when you were visiting and we were running in the fields?" Corey answered with a slight hum. In response, Jonah tightened his hug. "You made me feel special then . . . just by being with me. I felt . . . I don't know . . . free, I guess. Then you touched me, and we . . . kissed, and my mind went all awhirl, overwhelmed with it all . . . you, my feelings, your weight on top of me, your breath on my face as you looked at me and smiled." He shrugged. "Everything. I couldn't believe it then, and still can't.

"I mean you, the man I've dreamed about every night since we met, have come back to Riverton to be with me. I thought that what I'm feelin' only happens in stories. But," he crookedly grinned, "being here with you, like this, is proof that miracles do happen. Happiness can be had, and past hurts can be overcome."

Corey blinked back the moisture in his eyes as he ran his fingers through Jonah's thick brown hair. "How am I ever gonna top those lines?" he managed to choke, taking a ragged breath. "Nothing I say can possibly let you know how pleased I am at being here . . . with you." The corner of his mouth quirked before he kissed the tip of Jonah's nose.

He drew the younger man back into a tender embrace. "You are all my fantasies come to life, a wet dream that I can touch . . . and . . . kiss . . . and . . ." he hesitated, then chuckled and shook his head. "I . . . I don't know what to say, other than I am so friggin' happy, I can barely stand it. I've never felt this way. Never," he repeated. "I wish I could save this feeling, storing it away to be taken out and savored."

"And, he says he doesn't know what to say," Jonah dryly observed, as he rubbed his hands up and down Corey's back. "I'm a wet dream?" he asked, his teeth flashing in a pleased smile. "I've never been described as one of those before." Corey watched as emotions played over Jonah's expressive face. "I make your dick drool?" Corey nodded. "I make you wanna get all nekkid, so we can squirm around on the bed, gettin' all sweaty?" Jonah asked, his smile brightening with each question.

"You do all those things, handsome," Corey grinned.

"Well?" Jonah asked, holding Corey away from him. "If you're feelin' like that . . . what should we do about it?"

"Don't!" Bailey barked, causing Riley to jerk his hand back from the quilt at the foot of Corey's bed, as if bitten by a snake. He turned to Bailey, wide-eyed. "I'm sorry," Bailey apologized, crossing the bedroom to Riley's side. "That blanket is something close to Corey's heart. Every night, he would carefully fold it and set it on the chair. I don't believe he ever used it. Certainly not as long as I knew him." Bailey carefully folded the fabric, along the same fold-lines Corey always used, then gently moved it to the chair. "I don't know what the significance of the quilt is, only that it signifies something important, and I don't want anything to happen to it."

He perched on the edge of the bed, next to Riley, and ran a hand up and down Riley's back, returning a shy smile. "I don't understand why he didn't take all the stuff that's obviously valuable to him . . . like that quilt, his pictures on the nightstand . . . that painting in the hallway. It's almost as if he wasn't quite sure whether he'd be coming back or staying in Riverton."

Riley leaned into the slow touch, as Bailey continued to speak. "There's something very mysterious about Corey's past. He never speaks of growing up. He never speaks about his parents, or sisters, or brothers. The only thing I know is that he is the youngest in the family. I don't even know how many sisters or brothers he has." Bailey grinned. "I know more about you than I do about him, and we just met!" Bailey paused, then added, "and, no, me knowing those things has nothing to do with the fact that you like talking." Riley's smile widened.

"He never speaks about his parents, or how he happened to be going to a university which, I'm sure, is beyond his family's means. I know he had a big scholarship, but, still . . ."

"I've felt the absence, too," Riley murmured, leaning his head on Bailey's shoulder. "He only speaks of outlandish things, when he talks about home, at all. It's almost as if he wants to divert attention from the reality of . . . whatever it is. You've known him, what . . . six months . . . seven? I've known him for four years, and I know little more than you." Riley grinned. "Unlike you, though, I've not thought it strange . . . until now. He really is very good at hiding his past."

He turned to Bailey, taking his hand. "He's still very important to you, isn't he?" Bailey bowed his head and nodded, once. "Does that mean, that you feel guilty about me being here . . . with you . . . in Corey's bed?" Riley tightened his fingers. "I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable, or ask that you do anything against your conscience."

Bailey grinned crookedly. "I must admit . . . I am finding it a bit strange to be here with you . . . like this, in Corey's bedroom. But, as far as doing something which makes me uncomfortable . . . no, you're not doing that, and I won't do anything which will bother my conscience. Y'see, as I said, Corey and I can't be together. We had a good time, and I do love him." There was a pause. "I believe he loves me, as well. But, that means nothing, other than making for a little pain." The crooked grin again. "Well . . . more than a little, actually." Riley squeezed his hand in understanding.

"He and I have to build a life apart from one another. Our parting is still fresh in my mind. It's like a wound which hasn't begun to heal." He snorted a soft laugh. "All this means is that, while I may mourn things which will never be, I am pleased . . . more than pleased . . . to have met you, and to be sitting here with you, like this." He brought Riley's hand to his mouth for a tender kiss. "Please stay."

Riley's sensuous mouth curved into a smile. "Why, thank you for asking," he teased, his eyes sparkling in the dim light of the bedside lamp. "I believe I will."

He looked into Bailey's eyes. 'Corey's not the only person to avoid talking about his past,' he thought. 'This boy's in a world of hurt that has very little, if anything, to do with Corey's absence.'

"What is it you're in fear of, Bailey?" he asked, releasing Bailey's hand, and resting an arm across his shoulders. "It's like you're afraid to take a breath without thinking about it first. Am I that intimidating?" he asked, as he playfully batted his eyelashes and flashed his dimples.

All Bailey could manage was a rueful smile. "You . . . being here with me . . . you touching me . . . It's all so . . . normal. That's what's intimidating. And, you're right. I am afraid . . . of doing or saying something wrong." He spoke, without looking up, his growing agitation evident, as he tried to control his breathing. "I'm afraid of scaring you away, by giving you a glimpse of my old self." Riley frowned, clearly puzzled.

"Old self? I must have missed something." He grinned. "Y'have to excuse me. I sometimes miss things when I stop to admire myself in a mirror. This time, though, I was admiring you." He pointed to the dresser mirror, and their reflections.

Bailey chewed on his bottom lip, letting Riley's attempt at humor, pass. "Well," he murmured, "I might as well tell you, and get it over with. I'll have to tell you, someday, though I vow this will be the last time I will ever feel the need to explain my past." He heaved a deep breath, then grinned crookedly. He gestured to his body. "What you see is the new Bailey Wilkins . . . a work in progress. The old one was not a person you . . . or anyone . . . would want to know.

"This new me is still an uncomfortable fit. I feel as if I'm wearing a new pair of stiff leather shoes, which don't quite fit right. They chafe and rub, and generally make me miserable. I want to take them off so I can be comfortable . . . and be my old self, but I can't allow myself that pleasure. It would be too easy to do that, and if I let myself go . . . just once . . . I'm not at all sure I could regain the progress I've made. You see, I liked the old Bailey as much as everyone else, which is to say, not at all.

"Corey knew of my fears. In fact, he helped me overcome some of them, and, during the time I was with him, I made a lot of progress. When I met him, I could barely talk, for fear of saying something wrong. I didn't have a clue how I should speak, what I should say, how I should dress, or eat. What I did know belonged to a different world, a world of privilege, money, fancy dinner parties, sporty cars, profligate consumption. I knew of nothing but how to satisfy my own pleasure . . . by throwing my money around, trying to impress people. If I spent enough . . . showed off enough, dressed fancy enough . . . someone might notice me, or, better yet, like me.

"I was terrible. I'd always gotten my way, and had become convinced that that was the natural order of things. Lucia . . . Mrs. Giordano, back at the restaurant . . . saw me at my worst. She threw me out, almost physically, as I was making a scene. In fact, I backed into a waitress, causing her to drop the tray of meals she was carrying." Riley winced at the image. "That's why things started out tense, this evening. I had since apologized for my behavior, but Mrs. Giordano has always done her best to avoid me.

"I was alone, Riley. I had no friends. I'm an only child, so had no siblings in whom to confide. My parents had finally given up on me. Everyone had written me off as a lost cause. Then, along came Owen, and later, Corey; they, each in their own way, began to teach me what it means to be human.

"So, even though I continue to be unsure of myself, I am better. Still, since I don't know you well, many of those fears and insecurities I thought I'd conquered, are back . . . waiting for me to make a mistake. It's like I'm a recovering alcoholic, or something. I have to watch myself, constantly." He sighed, "If I seem afraid, it's not of you, but of myself. I'm afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing." He gave Riley a tentative grin. "Does all this make you want to run, screaming into the night?"

Riley turned to Bailey and tenderly kissed his cheek. "No, not at all. In fact, telling me all that must have been very difficult for you. But, please Bailey, don't be afraid of saying or doing something wrong. You're gonna find that I don't scare off easily.

"Look at me." He waited patiently until Bailey warily turned to him. "Don't try to become something entirely new, on my account. If you think you should try and change for your benefit, that's one thing, but don't contemplate changing, for mine. I'm finding that I'm pretty fond of you, just as you are."

Bailey heaved himself off the edge of the bed and crossed the bedroom in three steps. When he reached the far wall, he stopped, bowed his head, and gasped a ragged breath. When he turned back to Riley, his eyes were threatening to overflow.

"What did I do?" he asked, as he tried to control his shaking voice. "What did I ever do to deserve knowing someone like you? You are so . . . wonderful." He raised his arms to his sides, then dropped them. "I do not deserve such friends as you, or Corey, or Owen!" He turned his back and angrily swiped at his overflowing eyes. "Damn it!" he muttered. "My emotions are running so close to the surface, that the slightest thing will set me off, and I get all weepy." He took a shaking breath. "I'm on an emotional roller coaster. I meet you, and find myself at the top; then, a moment later, I find myself at the bottom." He turned back to Riley and sniffed. "I don't know what to expect next."

Riley pushed himself off the edge of the bed, quickly crossing the room, and stood behind Bailey, wrapping him in a loose embrace and resting his head on his shoulder. "Well, whether you did anything to deserve me, or not, I'm here, and I'm not fixin' to let go of you, so you best get used to me hanging around, y'hear?"

Lucas grinned at Sam as they stepped over a pile of construction debris, silently pointing out something Sam should avoid. Around them, the first of four greenhouses was approaching completion, while, close by, others were beginning to take shape. At Bea's suggestion, this one would be used for growing flowers, both for local and regional consumption.

"There's more to creating a memorable dining experience," she said, "than wonderfully prepared food. You'll be able to sell flowers to more than restaurants, too." That had been the deciding factor. The more places to sell his products, the better. The remaining three greenhouses, the first of many, if everything went well, would be used for specialty vegetables, highly sought after by restaurants, used to prepare those meals Bea spoke of. News of the greenhouses had spread, and had resulted in over a hundred telephone calls asking to be placed on the list of future customers. This, before any plants had even been put into the ground!

Bailey had even expressed interest in developing a subsidiary of his father's transport company, solely to distribute Riverton Produce throughout the surrounding large cities. The overwhelming response to a business, for which the buildings had yet to be completed, had persuaded Scott McKenzie to join with Lucas, and invest in a couple greenhouses of his own.

"You're changing the way we've been doing things," Scott told Lucas. "I'm thinking that your and Jonah's idea may be the wave of the future, at least for Riverton." He grinned. "I don't fancy being left behind when you put us on the map. Besides, Sally has a list an arm long of things she'd like to have grown. She hates using ol' Maxine as her source of vegetables."

Scott had focused on Lucas, his voice dropping. "Is it true Maxine won't sell to any of you guys?"

Lucas hitched his hip onto a stack of plywood, one leg idly swinging. "Yeah, she's made it clear we're not welcome."

"Damn that woman!" Scott shook his head in disbelief. "The meddlesome ol' biddy! She's always sticking her nose into everyone's business."

"I'm not worrying about it, Scott. So far, we've been going over to Evanston for groceries, but," he smiled, "it won't be too awfully long, and Maxine will find herself with some competition."

Scott broke into a smile. "I take it that information is confidential?"

Lucas laughed and nodded. "Don't even tell Sally, please . . . at least until things are further along. We need to start growing things first. I also have to get the bed and breakfast finished before I start on another project."

"Sally's beside herself with excitement because of the contract you and she signed, to have her provide breakfasts for your new place." Scott shook his head in admiration. "I tell you, in less than a year, you have brought so many changes to Riverton." He shook his head. "You've given many of the folks around here something to do. You've brought back the vision Owen's always saying we've lost. We used to go on day-to-day, one day pretty much like any other. You've changed that. We have something to look forward to, now . . . not just me . . . the whole town! I can't begin to tell you how important you've become to us all." He gave Lucas a quick self-conscious hug, then backed away, seemingly embarrassed by his action.

"May I ask you something personal?" he asked, hitching a hip onto the same stack of plywood, opposite Lucas.

"Of course. If I don't want to answer, I won't."

"Are you guys happy? The three of you, I mean?" Scott looked away. "Geez, this is tough." He looked up, wearing a crooked grin. "We were speakin' of Maxine, a bit ago. You've probably already heard, but she's goin' round town telling people of orgies going on at your place, and how the three of you guys are at one another's throats, screamin' and shoutin' in the middle of the night."

Lucas laughed. "Seems like those are conflicting stories . . . orgies in one sentence, fights in the next."

"Well, you know Maxine," Scott grinned, making an open-hand gesture acknowledging the contradictions. "Most people send her on her way. She's tellin' people your folks threw you out; that's why you're here instead of back in the city, where you belong. You couldn't be a success there, 'cause of you likin' guys n'all, so you came here to corrupt us. She's been really harpin' at the mayor, goin' on about how you want his job, and that he's makin' things too easy for you, getting licenses n'stuff to run your business."

"What?! I'm no politician. Alan is welcome to his job. I'll vote for him! I'll be his campaign manager, in fact, just to keep people from believing ol' Maxine." Lucas shook his head. Somehow, the idea that he wanted to deprive kind Alan Hurst of his mayoral job was more upsetting than claims of orgies, fights, being thrown out by his folks, or not being able to be a success wherever he chose to set up a business.

He turned back to Scott. "Forgive me. I was being irritated."

"Was?"

"Yep," he grinned. "I gave her claims all the time they deserved." But, to answer your questions. . . . I'll be truthful, so if you want me to go easy on you, just tell me."

"Uuuuu," Scott grinned. "Scandal in Riverton! I love it. Someone ought to write a book, or somethin'. I can handle things, I think. I'm not a man of the world, but I think of myself as pretty open minded. Besides, I know all you guys. It's easier to be open minded when you know the people you're talkin' about."

"Owen, Sam, and I couldn't be happier. You know that Sam and Jonah were together for a while?"

Scott nodded once.

"Well, that didn't work out. They were never angry with one another, or anything. They just weren't . . . compatible . . . as a couple, so they broke off things before either of them were in so deep someone would be hurt." Lucas looked away, then turned back to Scott, with a crooked grin.

"Their parting was sad, and even though they ended things early on, both of them were hurt by the separation. They really did care for one another. Sam, though, was probably the most affected. When the two of them went their own ways, he was basically left alone. He's always loved Owen, you know, just as Owen always loved him."

"I didn't know that, until Sally asked how could I be so friggin' blind not to notice." Scott snorted. "I guess, before knowin' you guys, I didn't think too much about guys being . . . intimate with one another."

"Well, Owen and I invited Sam into our relationship. That way, they could both be happy."

Scott blinked, clearly not sure what to think. "And you? How do you feel?"

"Actually, I'm way more happy than I thought I might be. I hoped things would work out, but I didn't really know if they could. I'm like everyone else. I've never heard of three-way relationships. We, the three of us, were going into this thing, blind. Fortunately, I've grown to care for Sam . . . a great deal, and I believe he feels the same about me. So . . . there are no fights . . . none whatsoever."

Lucas grinned. "But, we do have sex. Quite often, actually. I guess some people would interpret sexual scenes with more than two people as an orgy. If that's what you think, then, yes, we have orgies. But, I think of orgies as parties, where people are doing nothing but trying to find pleasure, not because they love the person or persons they're with, but merely for personal satisfaction.

"Sam and Owen and I love one another, Scott. That's the difference between what we do, and an orgy. Whenever we have sex, sure, it's pleasurable, but that isn't the primary reason we're together. We're together because of our love for one another. Besides sex, our relationship includes lots of laughter, compassion, empathy, and more love than I could have ever imagined possible."

He smiled. "I hope I haven't given you more information than you wanted to hear."

Scott inhaled deeply, then huffed out a breath, at the same time he was wearing a grin. "No, not too much. You were honest with me. What you describe is . . . is . . . is what everyone wants in a relationship, isn't it?" When Lucas grinned and nodded, Scott continued. "There's not that much difference between you guys n'me, for instance, or you'n the doctor."

"No, none, other than whom we are emotionally attracted to."

Scott stood and held out a hand for Lucas to shake. "I'm damned pleased to know you, Lucas. I appreciate your honesty." He grinned. "If you can be honest with me about you and the guys, I believe you'll be honest with me about anything else. I like that."

Lucas blinked, shielding his eyes from the bright mid-day sun, and returned his attention to Sam, who was watching him, with a slight smile.

"You're dreaming," Sam mused. "You've got that far-away look you get whenever you're thinking about something important. Are you thinking about the future of all the projects you've begun?"

Lucas grinned. "Yeah, some." He patted the stack of plywood, inviting Sam to join him. "I'm wanting to talk to you, though . . . about what you're going to be doing when you finish overseeing Bailey's project, and get your degree from the college. Do you have any plans?"

Sam shrugged. "I'm thinkin' something'll come along. I've spoken with some of the instructors over at the school. They think that maybe I can sort of oversee the students they select to work at the greenhouses, and do schedules and stuff. Trouble is, that won't be a full-time job, and I think Jonah would be more qualified to do those things than I am." He shrugged. "I'm expectin' things'll shape up as everything gets closer to being finished."

"I have a proposal to make, which I'd like you to consider." Sam's brows rose and the corners of his mouth twitched upward.

"Oh, yeah? Is this one of those absolutely indecent proposals, like the one you made last night?" He snorted. "It turned out to be lots of fun, by the way."

Lucas threw back his head and laughed. "No, I make those sort of proposals at home. I'm at work now."

Sam reached out and touched Lucas' leg. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be jokin' around. I know you're being serious."

"I'd like to hire you to handle the distribution of our products, handling customers, suppliers, ordering things, making sure everything runs smoothly . . . that sort of thing. You'd be working with Bailey. He's going to be handling the transport end of things. That should be easy for you, since you already work closely with him. It'd be by telephone and email n'stuff; not in person, at least, most of the time. It'd be an office job, and I don't know if you'd like that, but I think it'd be a perfect fit for your skills.

"You've already shown that you can manage people and develop schedules. You already have the basic skills. You're a hard worker, and you're no dummy. If there isn't something you don't already know, you learn how to do it, quickly. Of course, we'd take care of any classes at Evanston Community College, which you need, to be able to do your job. I'd really like it if you accept, 'cause I trust you, implicitly. I like working with people who I don't have to worry about."

"You think I can handle all that responsibility?"

"Yes. If I didn't, I wouldn't be asking you to do it. Dad advised me to bring people on board whom I both like and trust. I do way more than like you, Sam, and, as I said, I trust you."

Sam leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together, as he studied the structure in front of him, examining his thoughts. When he sat up, he grinned. "Thank you for the opportunity, Lucas. I accept the offer. I'll do my best. This actually sounds like great fun." He lowered his voice. "You may have guessed that I'm not really cut out to be a farmer."

Lucas laughed. "Yeah, I sorta figured that out. Most farmer-types don't wear white jeans!" Sam laughed, looking down at his pristine-white pants.

"Yeah, that's sorta a dead giveaway, huh?"

"Well, Mister Bridgers," Lucas smiled, "Your decision drops the last part of the puzzle into place. I now have our company name. HCB Enterprises. Stands for our last names, Horton, Carver, and Bridgers." He grinned. "Y'like? The Carver stands for both Owen and Jonah."

Sam stood and pulled Lucas into an embrace, swallowing around a lump in his throat. "Thank you for including me, Lucas. I'm sure the guys will say the same, when they learn. You are so generous; no wonder everyone loves you. Owen and me, more'n most."

"Sam," Lucas said, in a firm voice. "I am not being generous. I've watched how you've been handling both the people and the job Bailey has set out for you. You've done remarkably well, considering you're going to school, tending your father, and . . ." his eyes sparkled . . . "keeping Owen and me happy. You're the best man for the job. If you weren't, I wouldn't have offered it to you. This isn't a hand out, of any sort. You'll be working. You'll be contributing to the company's success. You'll be an important part in our success."

Sam blinked, moved by the faith Lucas was showing in him. "I never knew of anyone who sleeps with their boss."

"Whoa . . . I'm not your boss! We work together. We make decisions together. We share profits with one another, and with our two investors - my dad and Bailey's."

"What about sharing the losses?"

"From the response I've gotten so far, I don't think there'll be any losses. In fact, I'm confident of that."

Sam took Lucas into another embrace. "I don't know what to say. First, you rescued Owen." He held up a hand, asking Lucas not to comment on the assertion. "First, you rescued Owen. Then, by building the greenhouses, you gave Jonah a purpose. With your real estate deals and remodeling projects, you've begun to reinvigorate Riverton, and now you've given me a purpose beyond tending to Dad and being a student."

"You failed to mention that you're as sexy as all get-out," Lucas observed dryly.

Sam had the good grace to blush. "Well, I didn't think it'd be too cool for me to bring that up." He laughed, and hugged Lucas again. "Y'gotta forgive me. I know we're supposed to be working, but I am so freakin' happy." He held Lucas at arm's length.

"Just you wait, Mister. This evening, the three of us are gonna have a a better time than usual. It's a promise," he added, then grinned, pulling Lucas close. "Do you sometimes feel like a spider, sitting in the center of its web, controlling everything by pulling this string, or that one?"

Lucas laughed. "This spider can't wait to get home so he can crawl all over you and suck out some of your juices. That's what spiders do, right? By the time we get back, Owen'll be home from your dad's, so he can play, too. I love it when you and I play, by ourselves, but . . . things, seem complete, when the three of us are together."

"I know what you mean. Owen and I have made love a couple times by ourselves, since I moved in, but I missed you." Lucas bowed his head, close to being overwhelmed by Sam's admission.

Lucas sobered, and sank back on to his plywood seat. "Speaking of Owen. Have you noticed how he spends increasingly more time lifting weights and running . . . doing things to tire himself out? I'm worried about him, Sam. I don't know how much longer he can go on before he begins to get the urge to leave Riverton, so he can find that illusive . . . whatever . . . he's always dreamt of. Even when we were back at college, I got the feeling that he didn't really know what it was that he wanted. He mentioned being really good with numbers, and I thought he probably was going to go into accounting, but . . ." Lucas shrugged. "He didn't stay long enough for him to really get established."

Sam perched on the edge of the stack of plywood, turning sideways, toward Lucas. "Accounting is what he was leaning towards, you're right. He loves workin' with numbers n'stuff like that, but there's something else I know he wants. It's something he's always wanted, but I'm not sure even he would be able to put his wishes into words." Sam stood, took a few paces, then rubbed the back of his neck, before turning back to Lucas.

"Don't worry about him. Bailey's got things taken care of." He returned to Lucas' side. "I swore that I would tell no one about what's going on, and I won't, but . . . don't worry about Owen. In no time, I predict, he's going to be so happy, he won't know what to do with himself. And, please, don't let on that I've said this. Bailey would be very upset with me . . . rightfully . . . and poor Owen would be beside himself wondering what's going on. We don't have long to wait. Can you keep the secret for me . . . from everyone?"

"I don't really know much."

"You know more than Bailey intended. The only reason I said anything was because . . . well . . . you, being who you are n'all, have a right to know that Owen's gonna be okay. I don't like havin' you worry n'all."

"No one'll hear anything from me." Lucas grinned. "Does this have anything to do with that mysterious building?" When Sam gave him a disapproving look, he held up his hands in surrender. "I won't ask again, but, geez, Sam, this is such great news!"

Sam looked away, then back. "Bailey feels indebted to Owen for his life. So do his folks. I've been . . . overwhelmed . . . by all they're planning." His mouth twisted into a crooked grin. "Well, I've given this much away, and . . . as long as you're keeping things secret . . . I might as well go a little further." He took a deep breath. "Don't worry about Corey, either."

Riley stretched and turned his head, a small smile playing on his lips. Beside him, Bailey lay on his belly, his bare back and buttocks exposed to the early morning sunlight, his blond hair disheveled. 'What a night!' Riley mused, as Bailey shifted position, the muscles of his back and buttocks bunching and relaxing as he moved. Unconsciously, Bailey reached out a hand, seeking the man who'd spent the night at his side. Riley grinned and linked fingers.

'I've never met a more considerate, or . . . sensuous partner.' He smiled, thinking back to the awkward time they'd both felt, taking the first step. 'Poor Bailey didn't know what to do, or where to begin, not that I was much better.' After a moment of anguished indecisiveness, where they faced one another, neither knowing what to do, Bailey took a ragged breath, appearing defeated before he'd even done anything.

"I'm sorry. I . . . I don't know where to begin. I didn't feel this awkward the first time I was with a guy, why should I now?"

Riley wrapped Bailey in a loose embrace, around his waist. "It's that fear of doing something wrong showing it's ugly head," he murmured. He gave what he hoped was an encouraging grin, then tenderly kissed Bailey's cheek, wondering at the trembling.

"Bailey, Bailey, you dear man," he murmured, tightening his embrace. "Don't be afraid of me, or of being around me . . ." He backed up slightly and looked into the eyes of the man he held. "Please." He slowly traced a finger over Bailey's jaw, then down the front of his throat, grinning at the shivering response. "I'm not here to judge you. I'm here with you . . . like this . . . because I want to be. I want to be here with you, not the person you think you should be. Don't try to be someone you're not. Be yourself." He nuzzled Bailey's neck. "Try to relax. I'm sure your friend, Owen, wouldn't want you second guessing everything you do, would he?"

"No . . . I don't think so. He's not like that."

"Are you happy with the way you are, right now . . . tonight . . . at this moment?"

"I . . . I guess." Bailey opened and closed his mouth, unsure how to continue. "I've changed so much. I've made so much progress, I'm afraid if I stop working at it, I'll slide backward." He bowed his head and spoke in a soft voice. "But . . . yes, I feel good about what I've done . . . what I am . . . right now."

"Then, we are in agreement. I'm thinkin' you're pretty good, too." He held Bailey until the trembling eased, and the man tentatively returned the hug.

"Am I really okay?" He looked away, as Riley, surprised, moved back to study him. "I mean . . . you're not just saying that to make me happy or anything, are you?" he asked, with a hopeful look. "I've been a detestable character for so long, I . . . I just have a difficult time thinking of myself as being anything but. I'm okay . . . really?" he asked, in a small voice.

"Waaay more'n okay," Riley laughed. "All you need is a little dose of self-confidence. A person can go overboard with this changing-one's-life-thing, y'know. I'm thinking that you've 'bout reached that point. Start believing in yourself, and stop thinking about things you think should be changed. You're better'n fine, just the way you are." He watched as Bailey considered what he'd said. "It's time to take a vow," Riley continued, in a playful voice, hoping to draw Bailey out of his funk.

"I, Bailey Wilkins, being of sound mind, and sexy body, am declaring myself to be a good person, more'n worthy of having a whole slew of friends. I not only declare it, but I truly believe it. Therefore, I will, henceforth, stop torturing myself by trying to be someone I'm not. I am a good guy, just as I am. And . . . most importantly, I am going to relax, and have a wonderful time with the sexiest man in the world, who just happens to be holding onto me." When Bailey snorted amusement, Riley knew he'd broken through his fears.

"What?" Riley asked, in mock dismay. "You question whether I'm the sexiest man in the world?" Before Bailey could answer, Riley snapped his fingers. "I know! You can't tell how sexy I am just with a face shot!" He flashed Bailey a toothy smile. "You're wanting to see the whole package, naked. I'm right, aren't I?" he asked, nodding; then, in the same breath, asked, "Hey, do you know how to kiss?"

Bailey sheepishly grinned. "Yes, I think so."

"A guy doesn't have to think about whether he knows how to kiss, or not," Riley gently chided. "You either do, or you don't. What we're supposed to do," he said, speaking as if to an especially slow learner, "is mash our lips together, open our mouths, and let our tongues play with one another. It's fun," he smiled. "Try it! You'll like it!" He wiggled his eyebrows and grinned. "You look pretty kissable to me, Mister Wilkins."

"Do I have to kiss you to get you to stop talking?" Bailey murmured, raising his brows.

"Let's see if it works," Riley chuckled.

During the first kiss, Bailey truly relaxed, melting against Riley. By the third, he was the aggressor, pulling Riley closer, demanding that the kiss not end, as he thrust himself against his partner.

"Yep," Riley grinned, when they breathlessly separated. "You definitely know how to kiss . . . and how! Hell, I thought you were trying to swallow my frickin' tongue!" Before Bailey could possibly take the comment as criticism, he added, "That's a good thing!" He rubbed his groin from side to side over Bailey's. "Makes me sorta wonder what else you can do with that mouth of yours."

"Maybe we should find out," Bailey teased. He began to slowly remove Riley's clothes, dropping them on the floor. First, the corduroy sport coat, followed by the garish shirt, leaving Riley bare-chested. Unlike Corey, who took pains to remove almost all of his body hair, Riley had a trail of dark, clipped hair, running from his navel to a symmetrical spread of chest hair, also clipped short. "Damn," Bailey murmured, as he ran his hands over the ripples of Riley's stomach and chest. "Fuckin' sexy."

"Well, don't stop there," Riley teased. "Y'gotta get me naked, so I can strip you." He pulled Bailey to him for another slow kiss. "I'm thinkin' I wanna get t'know you better." He paused, a grin spreading on his mobile face. "As in the Biblical sense."

Bailey knelt in front of Riley and unzipped his fly, then slowly began to lower his pants. He couldn't help himself, wincing at the tight white underwear, emblazoned with an outline of a hand positioned over the crotch. 'Stop it, Bailey!' he sternly told himself. 'They're only clothes. You should be more interested in the man wearing the clothes, than in the clothes themselves.'

In this case, the man wearing the clothes appeared to be doing his best to escape the confines of the briefs. As Bailey watched, Riley's cock stiffened, pushing out the front of the underwear, revealing the top of a trimmed pubic bush.

"I need to be nekkid, Bailey," Riley murmured. "I'm gonna start hurting if you don't get me out of these undies real quick."

Almost reverently, he freed Riley's erection, and pushed both jeans and underwear down Riley's long legs, until he stepped free. "Aw, geez," he murmured, tenderly caressing Riley's hairless scrotum, feeling the contents move with his touch. The skin was warm and soft. He wanted to suck on each testicle, or nuzzle beneath them, as Riley lay on his back with his legs spread.

'Another time,' he promised himself. 'Soon.'

As he watched, a pearl of pre-cum formed at the head of Riley's cock. It was too much. 'I can't wait,' Bailey told himself. He circled the base of the cock with his fingers and slowly caressed the tip of the penis with his tongue, savoring the salty-sweet flavor.

"Oh, yeah," Bailey exhaled, as he stood and hurriedly stripped, never taking his eyes off of the beautiful man who was watching him with passion in his eyes. Even so, he found it next to impossible to drop his pristine trousers onto the pile of clothes lying at his feet. He took an imaginary deep breath and released them. 'There are times to be fussy,' he chided himself. 'Now is not one of them, not with Riley looking on. And, no matter what vow I've taken to just be myself, there are still some things with which I need to deal . . . clothes, being one.'

"Ohhhh," Riley breathed, tilting Bailey's chin upward and tearing his attention away from the rumpled clothing nearby. "You are certainly one handsome piece of man," he smiled, as he touched Bailey's forehead with a finger. "You're beautiful up here . . ." He next touched Bailey's chest, above his heart, tenderly pressing his open palm against the warm skin. "As you are, here." This time there was a mischievous glint to Riley's eyes. "And, lastly," he cooed, wrapping a hand around Bailey's thickening cock, "Here."

If Riley had just pledged his undying love, Bailey could not have been happier. When he opened his mouth to say something, nothing emerged but a whimper. 'I am his,' Bailey thought. He figuratively raised his eyes to the heavens. 'Please . . . keep me from doing something to scare him away,' he begged. 'Ohhhh, please.'

Bailey moistened his lips. "Thank you," he murmured. "Thank you for telling me that I'm okay."

They climbed onto the center of the bed and slowly discovered one another . . . passionate one moment, giddily giggling the next. It wasn't a night filled with sex, it was a night of lovemaking, which would be memorable long after the sun rose.

Now, with the light of the early morning sun filling the room, Riley glanced at the man lying close by, as Bailey turned onto his side, emerging from a deep sleep.

"Hey, Mister," Bailey mumbled, blearily smiling. He reached up and tenderly touched Riley's lips. "They look like you've been giving 'em a real workout."

Riley laughed as he shifted to half-lay on top of Bailey. "You, Gen'rl, have ruined me. I'm never gonna be able to kiss another guy, now that I know what a real kiss is like."

"Gen'rl?"

"Hmmm," Riley murmured, nuzzling the crook of Bailey's neck. "As in, General. You have conquered me, Sir." He rolled off Bailey and onto his back. "I do not believe I ever had a chance. The moment you smiled at me, I was yours. So . . . to make it official . . . I surrender!" he exhaled on a puff of breath. "I'm only twenty-one and have already experienced the best there is! What's left?" He glanced toward Bailey and burst out laughing at the sheer joy of being with such a wonderful man.

"Quick!" He tugged, until Bailey was laying on top of him. "I feel kiss-withdrawal coming on!" He made loud smooching sounds as Bailey tried to control his laughter. "As we Southern gay gentlemen are wont to say . . . kiss me, handsome!"

"Wont?" Bailey snickered. "Gentleman?" He guffawed, then brought his lips to Riley's. "Gen'rl," he murmured. "I like that."

~ to be continued ~

Thank you for taking the time to read my work. I always welcome your email and enjoy hearing your thoughts. If you would like me to send you a pic of the character(s), please ask.