Date: Sat, 12 Jun 2010 22:19:33 -0600
From: Roy <roynm@mac.com>
Subject: Owen, chapters 38, 39 - Gay college section

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 ~


	Thank you for taking the time to read my work.  I always welcome
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