Mayson watched Jonathan covertly. It had been two days since their near-kiss and since then things had been...different. Jonathan still had made him breakfast, made sure he took his pain medicine, was still as sweet as he ever was. He was patient when Mayson became fearful of night sounds, during flashbacks that seemed to increase the last forty-eight hours.

He still smiled, but they weren't as bright. He laughed, but not as loud. When they cuddled up on the couch, or the bed, like now, he wasn't as relaxed as he had been. He kept his hands firmly in one place, whereas normally he'd draw lazy patterns against his skin. This was something Mayson always found a comfort, something he found himself missing terribly.

"Are...are you mad at me?" He asked as he sat up. Jonathan's arm dropped with the movement, but his hand instantly wound itself around his slightly protruding hip bone.

Jonathan closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He shook his head ever so slightly in denial of the question.

"Then why are you acting so weird?" His voice was barely above a mild whisper. "I'm sorry..."

Jonathan looked at him then, the anguish in Mayson's voice stinging his eyes.

"For what?"

"F-for n-not...for not...I didn't wanna make you mad at me. Or make you stop lov-loving me." Mayson bit down on his lip and lowered his head, his hands coming up to hide his face.

"No, duck, God no..." Jonathan pulled Mayson into his chest, but the embrace backfired.

Mayson tensed up and screamed causing Jonathan to let go instantly. Curling up as small as he could he begged Jonathan not to punish him. Jonathan tried to reach him by way of speech, trying to talk him back into the present.

"Little duck, it's Jonathan. I'm not gonna hurt you, my love. Mayson, come on, baby, look at me."

Mayson stayed curled up in his protective ball waiting for his clothes to be ripped violently off. Waiting to feel Lucius's hardened cock rip him open, for those hands to cling, vice-like around his neck.

Mayson screamed again, pain and betrayal and unrelenting fear evident, his mind replaying the first time Lucius brutally 'claimed him' as his own.

Mayson apologized through his tears, his voice muffled by his arms that covered his face and head.

Jonathan stayed close as Mayson began to tire himself out, his tears slowing, his mania dropping off. He always felt so tired after these episodes. Drained. This was no exception.

When Mayson opened his eyes he saw Jonathan first before his eyes closed in troubled sleep. When next he woke, the lights were still on, though the television had been long since silenced.

Jonathan's arm was stretched out toward him, so close to touching...Mayson straightened out his fingers lacing them with his. There were still drying tears evident on Jonathan's tanned skin.

Mayson squeezed Jonathan's fingers, then and without breaking contact, maneuvered himself into those arms he'd missed securely around him. Jonathan started awake at the movement, bringing his head up, his arm reaching out for what wasn't there. Confused by the lack of Mayson where he knew he should be, looked to find Mayson sitting up and looking at him. His legs were stretched over his own and Mayson looked mid-motion on lying down next to him.

"Jonny...?"

"Hm? Are you okay?" Jonathan scrubbed a hand over his face to clear the fog before squinting against the light as he looked into Mayson's eyes.

Mayson nodded and looked away. "Will you hold me, Jonathan?" He spoke in low, unsure whispers, gnawing on the inside of his cheek in timorous respite.

Jonathan sat up, his right arm propping him up as he brought his left hand up to Mayson's cheek. Gently he drew his fingers down causing Mayson to turn his head to meet Jonathan's gaze.

"I'd never deny you that, little duck." Gently he placed a chaste kiss against his temple. "I'll be right back."

Mayson watched as Jonathan vanished behind the bathroom door. He stared at the closed door a moment before fixing the blankets and sheets so they were covering the entirety of the bed before lying down. He stretched, arms and legs pulling in opposite directions before relaxing and flipping over to his left side. Jonathan emerged from the bathroom, his eyes half-closed from sleep, shut the light off, and crawled up next to Mayson.

"Come 'ere, love."

Jonathan opened his arms to Mayson and he quickly entered the protection of those arms. Mayson's arm slung itself around Jonathan's side, the fabric of Jonathan's shirt weaving in-between Mayson's fingers.

The remnants of the dreams stayed hollow and echoing in his mind, leaving his chest tight with mostly confined, suppressed emotions and reticent anxiety.

"Relax, Mayson, my love, you're safe." Mayson nodded and took a deep breath, burrowing his face further in Jonathan's chest.

Jonathan ran nimble fingers through Mayson's long, wavy hair and planting small kisses against his forehead.

"Sh, sh, duck, you're safe, my love, you're safe."

The sun rose the next morning and Mayson with it. His eyes cracked open as the sun's light began to swim with the waves, and he looked around.

He didn't feel scared or anxious, but relaxed and mentally satiated. His mind was quiet as the morning, and he relished in the feeling.

Jonathan lay beside him, strong arms still wrapped protectively around him. Mayson smiled as he watched Jonathan sleep, dragging his fingers lightly against the smooth skin that shrouded him in asylum.

Jonathan shifted in his sleep which caused his soft shaft to rub against Mayson's. Electricity shot through his balls and throughout his whole body causing an involuntary moan to escape his lips. Mayson shuddered at the feeling, intense as the brief contact was. Mayson took a moment to analyze the feelings that left him breathless.

Intellectually speaking, Mayson knew that when his body reacted to the stimulus in the past, it was just that. A natural reaction. He was forced to come and while it felt good on a physical level, it stooped there. The emotional outrage that attached itself to each of those forced moments were completely polar opposite to the tingling in his extremities. This time, he didn't feel dirty or used. He wasn't filled with self-loathing and guilt. For the first time, he wanted more.

He buried his head against Jonathan's chest, the beating and steady rhythm of his pulse calmed the fears that came with these feelings of curiosity. Fears that were completely instilled into his soul, coupled with doubts and past voices.

He didn't want to listen to those voices. He didn't want to give way to those fears. He didn't want to live in fear and have his past control him. He knew he had a long way to go, that there were many wars and battles to win and lose and fight...but as he listened to Jonathan's heart beating and listened to his soft breathing, he knew he wouldn't be alone.

"God, this is fucking amazing,  Mayson." Mayson smiled almost shyly as Jonathan made appreciative moaning sounds.

"I'm glad you like it."

"Where did you learn to make this? It tastes just like what Mamma Scully made."

Mayson smiled brightly. "It is. It's her recipe."

"No, shit. I didn't think she'd ever tell anyone her special Gumbo recipe."

They chatted idly in easy conversation. They spoke of Mamma Scully and how much they missed her. Several years before, not long after they turned twenty-four, Mamma Scully died suddenly of a massive coronary that no one saw coming. She'd always been the picture of health. They chatted on about light topics that involved laughter and happier memories they had about the antics they pulled as teenagers.

Jonathan noticed the way Mayson looked at him when he thought he wasn't paying attention, but didn't comment. He didn't know what the looks were for, but he thought they'd play out in his favor. It was almost an assessing look. Analytical and judging, though with no negative connotations.

"Can we go sit on the beach for a bit?" Mayson asked after dinner was eaten and the last dish cleaned and put up. "It's relaxing out there." Mayson turned and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest, his eyes shyly cast away during the request.

"Sure, if you'd like, love. How about we throw on some warm clothes, find some driftwood, and build ourselves a fire to sit in front of?"

Mayson smiled widely. "I'd love to."

An hour later they were sitting as they had before, Mayson sitting in front of Jonathan, Jonathan's arms loosely encircling his center. Mayson leaned his head into Jonathan's shoulder as they silently watched the flames dance in rhythm to the water's tune.

Mayson sat up slightly, twisting his position to where he could better see the depths of Jonathan's chocolate eyes.

"Jonny...?"

"Yeah, little duck?" Jonathan never moved his eyes from the flame, staring dreamily into the fire.

"Will you do something for me?"

"Anything, Mayson, you know that."

He did. He smiled and then plunged onward before his confidence curbed its enthusiasm.

"Kiss me?"

To say Jonathan was shocked to hear those words coming from Mayson's mouth, and directed at him, is an understatement. His mouth bobbed up and down like a bobber on a fishing line.

"What...? I mean, I..." he stopped his babbling and smiled. Gentle fingertips found their way to his cheek and guided his lips ever closer.

Their lips touched as if for the first time and to his own amazement, Mayson found himself leaning further into it.

Jonathan deepened the kiss, his tongue asking permission to learn and explore. Mayson granted him by flicking his tongue grazingly over Jonathan's. Mayson moaned and leaned forward, wanting more of this foreign feeling. It was like the pit of his stomach fell, like riding a rollercoaster, and he pressed harder against Jonathan's lips. In response, Jonathan also moaned a low, guttural sound that shot straight to Mayson's groin and spread like wildfire.

He never experienced anything so powerful, so wonderful; he was loathed to part with it. Needing air they broke apart and Jonathan frowned.

"Little duck?" Jonathan reached up to swipe away the falling fears, but Mayson caught his hand and held it. He shook his head and smiled.

"I'm happy, Jonathan. You just gave me my first kiss."