Owen

Owen

Chapter Five

by Roy Reinikainen

Owen was still sitting on the floor, his back against the wall, with his head bowed, when Lucas emerged from the bedroom over two hours later. Fingers of late afternoon sunlight reached across the floor, draping themselves over the silent figure. Lucas crossed the living room and sank to his knees and sat back against his heels.

"Was it rough?" Owen snorted a quiet dispirited laugh.

"Yes, you could say that." He gave Lucas a crooked grin. "I cried," he said in a flat voice. He looked aside, a pale streak of sunlight crossed his face as he squinted into a watery blur. "I seldom cry . . . usually, only when my father . . ." He bowed his head, and swiped across his eyes with the heel of a hand. "But . . ." He hesitated, changing the direction of the conversation. "I've never been . . . away before, y'see. I'm just going to have to get used to being alone." Lucas sank into a cross-legged position and reached out a comforting hand, resting it atop Owen's. His voice was soft, barely louder than the sounds of traffic in the street below. "You're not alone, Owen. I'm here. And there's Allison too. She likes you, you know, and that's tough. She judges everyone by a pretty high standard. You've passed with flying colors." He squeezed Owen's hand. "Remember. You're not alone. You may not be surrounded by the people you're accustomed to, but . . ." His voice trailed off. "Well, you know."

Owen squeezed Lucas' hand. "Thanks, Lucas. I really don't think I could have a better friend here than you . . . and your sister." He tried to grin. "She's nice."

He audibly swallowed and abruptly changed the subject. "Did you manage to get any sleep, with me talkin' 'n all?"

Lucas reluctantly released Owen's hand. "No, I didn't get any sleep, but not because of you talking. I couldn't hear you. I was just thinking about . . . things."

"That Bailey, guy?"

"Yeah, some."

"You know what?" Owen asked, brightening. "I think the two of us are just tired. Look. We were up till nearly dawn talkin' and stuff, then whats-his-name shows up, then your sister. Then we ate, enough to keep me going till tomorrow, and then we came back here and shoved boxes full of stuff around. Makes me tired just describing it."

"So . . ." Lucas spoke, seeming suddenly energized. "Let's get out of this place and go for a walk! We can walk over to the campus and I'll show you around."

Owen's eyes brightened as he stood, all thoughts of being tired, suddenly banished. "Where's my t-shirt?" He trotted past the remaining boxes in the living room and soon emerged from the bedroom, tugging the shirt over his head. He ran his fingers through his short hair, coaxing it back into some semblance of order.

"I'm ready!" He held his arms out to his side, and then finished absently tucking in his shirt tails.

Owen impatiently held the apartment door open while Lucas checked himself in the mirror. "You're just as good looking now as you were this morning," he teased. "Is that what you were wanting me to tell you?"

"Sure! I always enjoy a compliment." Lucas checked his pocket for the apartment key and then trotted past Owen into the corridor. "Well, what are you waiting for?" He asked. "Close the door and let's get going!"

They ran down the corridor, laughing like two children, both reaching for the elevator lobby button at the same time. "I get to push the button," Owen shouted, sounding like a young boy. "I've never called for an elevator before." Lucas withdrew his hand and watched with a barely concealed smile as Owen reached out and solemnly pushed the button with an extended forefinger. When it became obvious Owen had no intention of releasing the button until the elevator arrived, Lucas murmured.

"You don't have to hold the button until the elevator arrives. Just push it once and the elevator'll show up, in a moment." Owen glanced at him and withdrew his finger, just as the chime sounded and the elevator doors parted.

"Hey, it worked!" Owen beamed, entering the elevator cabin, inordinately pleased with himself. He held his forefinger in front of his face and flexed it, his eyes twinkling as Lucas pushed the button to take them to the apartment's lobby, and turned to him.

Owen flexed his finger. "I've got a magic finger." He pointed it in Lucas' direction.

"Zap," he snapped, poking Lucas in the shoulder with a boyish laugh. "Feel that?"

Lucas chuckled and shook his head as the elevator slowed to a stop. "How about this, Owen teased, jabbing Lucas in the ribs and then dancing out of the elevator as the doors parted. "Or this," he added, laughingly poking in Lucas' direction.

They were still laughing as they left the building, emerging onto the largely deserted sidewalk. Owen turned in a circle and then paused, craning his neck to look up at the apartment building. "Your father owns this?" Lucas nodded, following Owen's gaze. "The whole thing?"

Lucas laughed and nodded pointing to the building next door. "He also owns that one, as well as the one over there." Lucas' description tripped to a halt, his gaze caught by the all-to-familiar blue sports car with the unwelcome man behind the steering wheel.

"Geez." Owen laughed as he grabbed Lucas by the arm and headed down the sidewalk. "I never knew anyone whose father owned anything bigger 'n a house!" They crossed the street as Owen continued to talk, animatedly waving his arms as he spoke, still unaware, of Lucas' change in mood.

"I gotta tell Sam 'bout this." They walked into the park, where Owen turned in a full circle, not wanting to miss anything. "There's so much of everything!"

His smile faded as he finally noticed Lucas' change of mood. "What's wrong?"

Lucas could barely contain a seething anger. "Bailey is what's the problem. I just saw him and his car parked in front of the apartment building. I can't imagine what he's trying to do." He shook his head. 'I swear; one has to knock some people over the head with something very heavy before they listen to what you're saying. In Bailey's case, I don't think anything I or anyone else could say or do would make him face reality, and get lost."

He's that bad?" Owen made a heroic effort to not look over his shoulder in search of the cause of Lucas' anger.

Lucas nodded. "Yes . . . that bad." He made a face. "I especially hated how he treated you. That was inexcusable behavior on the part of anyone." Lucas' grim expression faded as a smile blossomed as he recalled the recent scene in his apartment.

"Watching Bailey's expression as you walked across the room, naked, and then bent over to get some clothes out of your bag was priceless. Then, when you stopped to scratch your crotch before wishing us a good day!" Lucas laughed. "I thought he was going to hyperventilate! Y'know . . ." Lucas continued. "I've never known Bailey to be at a loss for words. The sight of your naked butt did it."

He nudged Owen with his shoulder, knowing that Bailey would be watching. "You put on that show on purpose, didn't you?" He nudged Owen again, trying to dodge a playful return punch. "Show off!" He called, as Owen reached for him again, and then began laughing and dancing around on the balls of his feet miming the stance of a boxer.

He leaped aside as Lucas lunged for him.

"I don't have all that much to show off," he laughed, abandoning his boxer act and rejoining Lucas. His eyes crinkled in amusement as they walked along the wide ribbon of brick, deeper into the park, the long shadows of tree trunks crossing their path. "Not as much as some other guys, at least." He shrugged. "I haven't been around that many guys to compare myself with though."

"I think it's just right," Lucas responded in a deadpan voice. 'Neither of us are what one would call big guys."

"Big guys!" Owen hooted, throwing his head back and laughing. 'I like that! 'Course I am bigger 'n you."

"What? It sounds like you measured, or something. Besides . . . when'd you see it?"

Owen winked. "Didn't have to measure." He put his thumb and forefinger a few inches apart. "If I recall correctly, you're 'bout this big. Remember, I'm gonna be an accountant, or somethin'. I'm good with numbers."

"What?" Lucas shouted in mock outrage. "I'm bigger than that! You were probably measuring before I got hard." Owen shook his head, trying to be serious.

"Nope, you were hard. I'm sure of it. There's just not much difference." He tried to dance out of the way as Lucas lunged at him, but didn't move far or fast enough. Lucas grabbed him around the waist, pulling them both onto the grass. They landed with a thud and the sound of expelled breath.

"Some guys aren't too big. I wouldn't spend too much time worrying about it." He reached out and pulled Lucas back to the grass, as he was trying to stand, and then quickly straddled the surprised man, and threw back his head with a carefree laugh, breathing heavily and raising both arms in victory. "I win!"

"Okay," Lucas admitted, feeling himself begin to thicken beneath Owen's buttocks. "You win, but I am bigger than what you showed."

"Are not," Owen retorted, rolling off Lucas, onto his back, with his hands folded behind his head and looking at the canopy of trees and darkening sky overhead. It reminded him of home, yet the man lying next to him, who was laughing so easily, was not Sam.

"I am too, bigger." Lucas rolled to his knees and made as if to unzip his shorts. "Want me to show you?"

"Please, no!" Owen shouted, covering his eyes and laughing heavily. "I've already been laughing too much, already. I don't think I could stand any more?"

Lucas fell onto his back at Owen's side. "Good, because I wouldn't have done it, at least not in public." They lay in silence for a few more minutes.

"I'm bigger than you," Lucas muttered.

"Hmm," Owen murmured, rolling onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow. "When you said neither of us were very big guys . . . Were you by any chance talking about our height?"

Lucas sputtered a laugh. "I was, originally, but I think someone I know has something else on his mind."

Owen lay in silence, thinking about what Lucas had just said. Finally, he murmured. "Well . . . I'm taller 'n you too."

"Are not . . ."

Sam looked up and frowned at the knock on the front door screen. "Coming," he shouted, setting aside his attempts at preparing himself some dinner. He quickly wiped his hands on a towel and walked into the home's living room and saw Owen's brother, Jonah, through the screen.

"Jonah! Hey, how'ya doin?" He held the screen door open, following the wonderful fragrances wafting from a casserole dish his guest was carrying.

"Doin' good, Sam," Jonah smiled. "Mama sent me over with this." He held up the covered dish. "She thought you might be needin' something warm to eat, what with your folks gone 'n all."

Sam laughed, gesturing for Jonah to precede him into the kitchen. "I was just making myself something. I'm afraid I'm not much of a cook. Mother never thought to teach me much, and I never thought to pay attention when she was workin' in the kitchen." He shrugged. "Now, I'm left, eating peanut butter sandwiches and salads.

"Whatever your mother sent smells wonderful." He opened the lid and leaned close, inhaling the fragrance of a hearty beef stew.

"Oh," he sighed. "I think I'm in love with your mother." He chuckled at Jonah's shocked expression. "Tell her how much I appreciate her thoughtfulness, would you?" Jonah awkwardly nodded, scuffing a booted toe on the kitchen floor.

"Have you eaten?" Sam asked, reaching into a cabinet for a bowl. "Would you like some, too?" Jonah held up a hand.

"No, I've already had some, thanks, though I wouldn't mind visitin' for a bit, if that's okay with you."

Sam gestured to one of the chairs at the kitchen table. He poured himself a glass of milk and sat down, taking his first bite of the stew, thick with vegetables and large chunks of meat in a tasty gravy. He sighed with pleasure. "Now, I know I'm in love!" His smile was infectious, and after a moment, the usually reserved Jonah was smiling.

"Have you heard from Owen?" Jonah asked, leaning on the kitchen table and absently drawing circles in the fabric of the table cloth. "Abigail and I have been wonderin' if he got to school okay. I've asked the folks, which was a mistake. Pops about blew up. He got all red in the face. Mama wrung her hands, prob'ly 'cause I mentioned Owen's name. It's as if they don't care what's happened to him!"

The last words seemed torn from him. "I thought you might know if he's okay, or if somethin's happened to him to keep him from lettin' us know how he is."

Sam rested his spoon in the bowl and studied Owen's brother for a moment. He had the same unblemished skin as Owen, and the same grey eyes, though that's where the resemblance stopped. Jonah was taller than his older brother, and more lanky. He wore his brown hair longer than Owen's blond. His lips could only be called sensual, and like Owen, when he smiled, he could light up a room. On the other hand, whenever he frowned, a cloud seemed to descend.

This evening, he was worried.

"He's okay, Jonah. He called me a day or so after he got to school." Jonah let out a breath he apparently wasn't aware he'd been holding and seemed to relax. "He didn't call you?" Sam ventured.

Jonah's shake of his head was barely noticeable. "I thought that maybe the folks'd be gettin' over his leavin' by now." He scooted forward on his chair, leaning his elbows on the table. "Sam, they don't even say his name! Whenever Pops refers to him he calls him, 'your brother', or somethin' like that." He crossed his arms and sat back in his chair, making it creak with his abrupt movement.

"I hate it! I hate what they're doin to him, to me, and to the girls. Opie's crying all the time, wondering how Owen's doing, but even she has learned not to say his name for fear of being yelled at by Pops." Jonah's voice lowered. "The man has always been. . ." He searched for a word. "Strange. But, now." He hesitated once more. "Now, he's gone all weird and hateful.

"What'd Owen do to deserve all this?"

Sam quietly set his spoon down. "Your father likes to be in control, Jonah. You know that." Jonah nodded, and huffed a silent laugh at the understatement. "Well, Owen's done something that showed your dad that he doesn't control everything, or everyone. Owen's his own man, and your father doesn't like that."

"There's more to it than that, I'm thinkin'." Sam raised his eyebrows, as he returned to the stew, waiting for Jonah to continue.

"I'm thinking Pops doesn't like you too much either." Sam managed to swallow. Jonah went on talking.

"Owen's been defying Pops for years, not just now, by goin' to school. That was just the final straw."

"How has he been defying your father, Jonah? It sounds like whatever he's done involves me somehow?"

Jonah reluctantly nodded. "I don't know why I'm tellin' you all this, except to maybe figure things out." He shrugged. "I don't know."

"What did Owen do?"

"Pops didn't like him spendin' so much time with you, and was always telling him he could be working instead of foolin' around with . . ." Jonah paused, looking toward Sam from beneath his brows.

"Go on."

"He calls you all sorts of names, Sam. Sometimes he and Owen would get in some god-awful shouting matches. He expected Owen to back down, like Mama does, but he never did. He would always stand up to Pops and get right in his face, even when he was a lot younger. Those times, Pops would spank him . . . hard, saying he was gonna beat some sense into him. But Owen never cried or nothin'. He didn't give Pops the satisfaction of seeing how much he'd been hurt." Jonah bit his lip, remembering some rough times, and how he'd try to help his older brother. "I'm only aware of some of the spankings. I think worse things happened . . . out in the fields. Still . . . when he was around the folks, he'd never cry."

Jonah gulped a breath. "But, Owen'd cry himself to sleep lots of times, and many times I'd hear him call out your name in his sleep." Jonah shifted in his chair, uncomfortable with his memories.

"I'd always try to quiet him for fear Pops would hear him say your name and beat him again.

"Sam, the girls and I look up to Owen, not only 'cause he's our brother, but because of how he stood up to Pops. He did what none of us have ever had the courage to do. That's why we're hopin' he's okay."

"He is, Jonah. He met another student, and the guy's told him he can stay at his place until he finds a place of his own. Owen sounds happy, though he's lonely for you and your sisters."

"And you too."

"Yeah. He and I are pretty close."

"Do you love him, Sam? I mean love him like something way more than a good friend?"

Sam glanced up with a twisted smile. "Yeah, I do."

Jonah smiled brightly, reaching for Sam's shoulder, and squeezing. "Good!" He almost laughed. "Owen needs someone who loves him."

"It doesn't bother you . . . knowing about your brother 'n me?"

"No, why should it? He deserves to be happy. I can't tell you about all the crap he's put up with at home, and he's come out of it all, still smilin'. He deserves for someone to hold him and tell him he's a good guy." He paused. "No one else will, that's for sure." Jonah's pale cheeks flushed with a pink blush.

"I like you, Sam, and the girls like you. You're our friend too, you know? Not only Owen's."

"But your father . . . What would he say if he knew you were over here, talkin' to me, especially about Owen."

"He'd yell and stuff."

Sam eyed the casserole dish, and then his guest. "Jonah, tell me the truth. Did your mother send over this stew? Does she even know you brought it to me?"

Jonah squirmed, pinned on Sam's gaze, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. "No, it's really from me and Abigail. She sneaked some stew into that dish so I could bring it to you and find out about Owen. It's a dish Mama never uses, so she won't miss it, though I do have to get it back, sometime. The folks think I'm visiting Scott McKenzie. I'm headin' over there when I leave here, just in case Pops checks up on me."

"I guess I'd better not thank her for the stew then, had I?" Jonah laughed, giving Sam a sheepish look.

"I guess not."

"And, instead of saying that I could love your mother for sending it to me, I guess I should say that I could love her son and daughter for thinkin' of me."

Jonah blushed, and fidgeted in his seat.

"I'm sorry if I've made you uncomfortable by saying stuff like that."

"Nah, it's not that, Sam, really." He shifted. "It's just that no one has ever told me they could love me before. It makes me feel sorta all warm inside that someone might care about me." He bowed his head and blinked, his blush deepening with the admission.

"No one? . . ."

Jonah shook his bowed head.

"Ever? . . ."

Jonah took a stuttering breath. "I can see why Owen . . . loves." Jonah gulped. "He loves you, Sam. I can see why." He reached out and squeezed Sam's shoulder. "Thanks for tellin' me he's doin' okay." He stood, prepared to leave, unwilling to explore the feelings washing over him. He had never thought what it would be like to be cared for by someone. Now, with a few words, Sam made him aware of what he'd been missing. He cleared his throat, willing his sense of loneliness away with a firm thought. "I'll tell the girls what you've told me. I won't tell Opie where I got the news though. She might say somethin' she shouldn't."

Sam stood. "C'mere, Jonah." He held his arms wide, instinctively knowing what Jonah needed, even if he himself didn't. "I know how much Owen likes to be hugged. I'm thinkin' it's about time someone hugged you too." Jonah awkwardly stepped forward allowing Sam to fold him into an embrace. After a moment, he seemed to relax, and even put his arms around Sam and squeezed, awkwardly patting his back. They stood like that for a few moments, Jonah's head resting on Sam's shoulder.

He felt a tremor course through Jonah's body, and didn't want to embarrass him by causing him to break down. After briefly tightening his embrace, a silent way of letting the younger man know that he understood what Jonah was feeling, he gradually loosened his embrace.

Jonah backed up and wiped a hand across his eyes, taking a deep shuddering breath. "I . . . I never realized what being held . . . could be like." He slowly shook his bowed head. "Imagine . . . I'm sixteen, and I've never been hugged, or had anyone tell me they . . . could . . . love me." He sniffed and gave Sam a quivering smile while he tried to keep his suddenly watery eyes from overflowing. "It's sorta sad." His voice lowered. "Truly." He stood in silence for a moment and then looked up, his pale cheeks blotchy.

"Thanks Sam. My brother is a very lucky man." He gulped a swallow. "Next time you talk to him, tell him the girls and I are thinkin' about him, and that we . . . love him . . . will ya? He needs to hear that someone cares for him, as much as I do." He gave Sam a self-conscious nod, and grabbed his cap before heading to the front door, his long legs crossing the room in only a few steps.

He paused, halfway through the door. "Thanks again. I came over here wantin' some news about Owen, and I'm leaving with that, and more knowledge about myself than I could ever have imagined." He smiled, waved, and then walked away with a spring in his step Sam had never seen before.

Owen and Lucas returned from their tour of the campus, entering the apartment building by way of another door, hoping to avoid Bailey, if he should happen to be still outside.

Lucas had taken a shower, followed by Owen, and now both men were on Lucas' bed, modestly covering themselves in their underwear. Lucas was sprawled on his stomach, his arms reaching for the head of the bed, his legs spread.

Owen sat, his back against the headboard, a pad of paper on his lap, and a pencil in hand, trying to think of what to say to Sam. He seemed to have left out so much in his earlier telephone conversation . . . elevators, the huge restaurant and park, the school . . . Where to begin.

Lucas groaned. "I'm so sore! I strained a muscle in my shoulder when we were rolling around on the grass. And we moved all those boxes." He theatrically groaned.

"City-boy," Owen teased.

"Damn, right," Lucas moaned into the pillow where he'd buried his face. 'I don't have to wrestle bulls into a stall each morning so I can milk 'em . . ." He rolled his head to the side and faced Owen, giving him a meaningful look. "Like some people, I know."

"I come from a farm, not a ranch," Owen responded. "We have chickens and pigs and such, not bulls." He shifted position and began to laugh. "And for your information, I don't think a bull would take kindly to bein' wrestled into a stall so you could milk him!" He rolled onto his back and pounded the bed at either side with his fists, his earlier chuckle maturing into a full belly laugh. "Milk a bull!" he hooted. "What a picture that makes.

"What is it with you, Lucas?" He asked, trying not to laugh any harder. "First tellin' me about a strange rooster who wants to fool around with a guy-buzzard, and now you're tellin' me you're thinkin' about masturbating a bull!" He started laughing again. "I wanna be around to see that! In fact, I'll sell tickets!"

His voice rose. 'I'll get rich!"

After a few moments he regained control of his voice, though he tried to avoid Lucas' playfully irritated expression, lest his laughter reappear.

'I'm guessin' you're just horny. Or, do you always think so much about barnyard animals?" He glanced at Lucas with a meaningful look.

"Hmmmm," he murmured, bursting into another round of laughter. "That's the sign of a sick mind, Lucas. Or at least one with a lot of imagination."

Lucas rolled to his side and slapped a pillow over Owen's face, before returning to lay on his stomach. He cradled his head on crossed arms, and winced.

"I'm tired," he muttered. "Some guy I know kept me up most of the night with his snoring. Then I have to lift all these boxes and junk all by myself while the same guy hangs about flexing his muscles, looking like someone from a magazine. I'm sore, Owen . . . okay? I deserve to be able to go to sleep. Or, if you want to make yourself useful, you could massage my aching shoulders. At least that way you'd be putting all those muscles of yours to good use."

'I don't snore."

"Do too."

"Do not."

"Then, what kept me awake all night?"

"Probably dreamin' about things that came from a farm."

"Yeah, well . . . maybe." Lucas paused. "You do too snore."

Owen slapped Lucas butt, causing him to jump and look over his shoulder in surprise. "If you're gonna slap my butt," Lucas muttered, "slap it like you mean it."

"Oooh, he's stranger than I thought," Owen chuckled, rolling onto his knees and then moving to straddle Lucas' lower back. "Well, I guess a massage is the least I can do. After all, if you hadn't rescued me at the airport, I'd probably be beggin' on some street corner." He lowered his voice.

"So, my dear friend. Whatever I have is yours. S'long as there's no more animal jokes, okay?" Otherwise, I'm gonna begin thinkin' funny things 'bout you." He leaned forward and dug his fingers into the muscles of Lucas' shoulders. "Truly, I will."

Lucas closed his eyes and sighed, surrendering himself to Owen's strong fingers, and the feeling of the man straddling his lower back. 'Now, if we were both naked,' he thought, 'it would be much more fun.'

Owen would rock forward as he worked the muscles, and then rest back, only to rock forward again as he kneaded the muscles of Lucas' shoulders, a rhythm almost like being . . . He turned his mind away from the thought of sex.

"Want me to do the other side?" Owen asked, using the sides of both hands to judo-chop up and down Lucas' bare back.

Lucas groaned, rolling his head from side to side. "No, can't do that."

Owen paused. "Why not?" He playfully walked his fingers over Lucas' back, finding out that he was ticklish, causing Lucas to squirm beneath him.

"Because I've got an erection, that's why! And, stop that! So . . . I'm ticklish. There's no need to torture me."

Owen chuckled. "I understand 'bout not wanting to turn over. You don't want me to see how . . . ahem . . . long . . . it is. Right? Or is it . . . more things from a farm?"

"Things from a farm, yes . . . and you're right. I'm horny. I love to masturbate, and you're cramping my style, to say nothing about holding me down."

"So . . . masturbate! No one's stopping you." Owen rolled off Lucas' back and picked up the pad of paper and pencil, leaning back against the headboard, once again prepared to write his letter."

"I can't masturbate! You're in here!"

"Yeah, so?"

"But . . ."

"Oh, I understand. You're modest. It's that size thing again." He settled himself, adjusting the pad of paper on his lap. "It's okay. You go ahead and play with yourself. Me . . . I'll write my letter to Sam. I have lots to tell him, so I promise I won't look."

"What?"

"You just asked me that a minute ago. I told you, it's okay. Go ahead." Owen made a 'continue' motion with a hand.

"I'm asking again! Don't you masturbate in private?" Owen shrugged.

"Sometimes. Other times, my brother 'n I do it together. We had to share a room y'know. No privacy at all. "'Course, I didn't do it in front'a my sisters. They'd squeal, or some girl-thing." He slapped the seat of Lucas' underwear. "Go ahead. Like I said. I won't look."

"You're daring me, aren't you?"

"Nope. You're the one that's all excited. You're the one who needs to drop a load. Nothin' wrong with either of those things. My feelin' is, when you're all sexed-up, you gotta do somethin' about it. Otherwise, you could burst . . . or something." He paused a moment while Lucas propped himself up on his elbows and looked at him in amazement.

"Come to think of it," Owen continued, staring into the distance. "I don't recall ever hearin' about a guy actually bursting, but there's no reason to be uncomfortable." He seemed lost in thought.

"Don't you get horny?"

"'Course I do. I just told you; Jonah, my brother, and I would do it together. The little show off."

"Bigger than you, I take it?" Lucas couldn't resist. Owen looked at him with a smile playing about the corners of his mouth.

"Matter of fact, he is."

"Didn't you say he was ten years old, or something like that?"

Owen sighed. "I guess I asked for that." Lucas chuckled, waiting for Owen to continue speaking. "No, he's sixteen . . . almost seventeen . . . and horny all the time!" He shook his head. "You know how teenagers can be."

"I've got news for you, Owen, but you are a teenager! I am a teenager. So, what does that say?"

"Says we need to wack-off whenever we're horny," I'd guess. He became serious.

"So . . ." Lucas decided to go for broke. "Why don't you join me? That way I won't feel so weird, and you can just pretend I'm your brother."

"M'brother's not so scrawny as you."

"Probably has a bigger dick than me, too."

"No doubt."

Lucas shook his head in exasperation, and then stood and stripped out of his underwear, trying to act casual about standing in front of Owen in the nude.

"So," he asked, making an inviting gesture with a hand as he climbed back onto the bed under Owen's watchful gaze. "You gonna join me?"

Owen glanced at the pad of paper on his lap and thought of Sam. 'What would he think of me beating off with someone I hardly know?'

"What are you thinking?" Lucas asked, stretching out on his back, only inches from Owen.

"Thinking about what to say to Sam."

"Are you planning on telling him about masturbating with me?" Owen slowly shook his head.

"No . . . I don't think he'd want to hear about that."

Lucas shifted position, scooting closer. He was a slender man, and if his pale skin was any indication, he seldom went out into the sun. His dark brown hair was cut short, and, today at least, he sported a two-day stubble of beard, the dark hair prominent against his pale skin. He glanced at Owen and quirked his eyebrows, his eyes twinkling in mischief, as he grasped his erection and waved it from side to side.

"C'mon, Owen. Join me."

"Y'sure? I mean, you don't think this is too weird, me and you beatin' off together?" All Owen could think of, was how Lucas threw Bailey out of the apartment, because he was gay.

"Sure, I'm sure." He gave Owen a serious look. "Haven't you ever had a J.O. buddy? You know? Someone to masturbate with? Other than your brother, I mean?

"Yeah, I had one of those. A tough thing to do in a small town. Everyone seems to know your business, even before you do."

Lucas caressed his own belly and chest, pausing a moment to tweak each nipple. "He still a good friend?"

Owen silently nodded, mesmerized by Lucas' body. "Yeah . . . the best." He raised his hips and slipped off his underwear, tossing them across the room. "Just like you." He nudged Lucas with his shoulder and chuckled. "I don't masturbate with just anyone, you know."

Lucas passed him some oil for lubrication and watched as Owen trickled some, first onto his hand, and then onto his penis before returning the small plastic bottle.

"What are you thinking?" Lucas asked, surprised at how quiet Owen had become.

"Just thinkin'. That's all." Owen forced a grin and then spread his legs, resting his left leg on top of Lucas'.

"Get comfortable, why don't you?"

"Okay." Owen snuggled closer and snaked his left arm beneath Lucas' pillow, the full length of his body pressed against Lucas'. "Is that what you meant?" "Uh, yeah, I guess." Lucas cleared his throat. "You brother and you did it . . . like this?"

Owen hummed a response. His attention was now focused on his erection. "Hmmm. No. He never asked me to make myself comfortable. He usually stayed on his side of the bed and I would stay on mine." Owen was running the tips of the fingers of his right hand up and down the length of his own erection. Lucas watched, mesmerized by Owen's actions. He would tease his cock with his finger tips, and then squeeze a drop of clear pre-cum out of the tip, smear it around with his thumb, and then return his finger tips to the underside of his erection. He did this a few times, and then reached between his legs and gathered his testicles into his hand, tugging gently.

The penis was even more beautiful close-up than when he'd seen it while Owen was showering, or walking around the apartment, naked. It was thick and straight, and not overly long; its translucent skin stretched over its smooth surface. It's flaring head was capped by a prominent slit which opened and closed with each sensuously slow stroke he was now taking.

A dense patch of dark blond pubic hair at the base of Owen's erection, thinned to a narrow trail of hair, leading to his navel. His chest and stomach, just like his arms and legs, were covered with the barest dusting of short blond hair.

Owen paused and turned his head slightly. "When you're doin' it with another person, it's okay to do yourself at the same time, instead of just watchin'. We don't have to take turns y'know." Owen took a deep breath as his hand tweaked one of his dark nipples.

"Feel good?" Lucas asked, transfixed, hardly thinking of his own erection.

Owen nodded slowly, his smile turning up the corners of his mouth. "I like it slow," he breathed.

"Have you ever tasted your own sperm?" Lucas whispered, trying to move closer." Owen nodded slowly, continuing the deliberately slow stimulation.

"Hmmm," he murmured, and nodded, his eyes still closed. "Good," he whispered, on barely more than an exhaled breath.

'You?" he asked.

"Lick my fingers clean every time," Lucas responded, trying and failing to match Owen's slow hand movements. He had to cum. The intensity of his approaching orgasm was threatening to overwhelm him. If he had been standing, his knees would have already given way.

"That's the way, Lucas," Owen murmured. "Let's shoot together. I wanna see you eat your own sperm." Lucas groaned at the thought. "I wanna see your tongue covered with your jiz," Owen added, his hand speeding up.

"I can already taste it," Lucas murmured, seconds away from completion.

"Yeah."

Owen jerked once. His back arched as he dug his heels into the bed. His first shot hit Lucas' side, the second left a thick line over his own belly; the third oozed out, coating his hand and running down the length of his erection.

The moment Lucas felt the hot splash of Owen's sperm against his skin, he erupted, pumping out two heavy strands of his own onto his chest and stomach.

"Oh geez," Owen sighed, rolling his head to his left and resting it against Lucas, while he continued to slowly milk his slowly softening erection. He drowsily opened his eyes and watched as Lucas reached to his own side and scooped up Owen's sperm and opened his own mouth, pleased he was being watched. He extended his tongue as a thick string of Owen's sperm dangled from his fingers, extending in length until it finally dropped onto his tongue.

He closed his eyes and savored the taste of Owen for a few moments before he returned to scoop up as much of his own cum as he could.

"That was my sperm you just ate, my friend," Owen murmured, "not yours."

"Tasted good, too," Lucas murmured in response, opening one eyelid to study the man at his side.

"Does it bother you that I did that?"

Owen squirmed, trying to cuddle closer. He trailed his fingers over Lucas' chest, scooping up some of the thick cum, and then licked his fingers clean. 'No, doesn't trouble me a bit," he said, his eyes twinkling as he licked his fingers clean. "Should it?"

"Feel better now?" Owen asked, a teasing note in his voice.

Lucas yawned and nodded slowly. "Yes. Now, I definitely need to go to sleep."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. I'll head out to the living room and give you some space."

Lucas pressed his head back into the pillow, trapping Owen's arm as he tried to move. "Stay where you are. There's room in the bed for two."

"Y'sure?"

"What is it with you, Owen? Of course I'm sure. I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't." He smiled dreamily. "Besides, after two guys masturbate with one another, they're entitled to share a bed, don't you think? Besides, you can't sleep out on the living room floor forever, you know."

"My letter . . . Sam?"

"He'll understand."

Owen lay next to Lucas and wondered if Sam really would . . . understand.

~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.

My other stories on Nifty include: Phalen (located in the Gay College Section) Phalen - Finding Happiness (Gay College Section) Chris (Gay College Section) Leith (Gay College Section) Owen (Gay College Section Wesley (Adult Relationships Section) Jess (Soon to be in the Gay Incest Section)

I hope you enjoy them all.

Roy Reinikainen