Jonathan woke to Mayson kissing him awake. He didn't question it but instead encircled his arms around Mayson, pulling him closer. Mayson moaned as he ground himself against Jonathan's thigh. Jonathan moaned in turn as Mayson began biting and suckling at his neck.

"Please, Jonny...I need you." He ground against him again, his hand palming Jonathan's hardening member through his pants.

"Please, Jonny...please, I need you inside me."

Jonathan didn't answer but responded by pulling Mayson fully on top of him and recapturing his lips with his own. Somehow they both managed to lose themselves of their pants, and Mayson shuddered in anticipation when Jonathan lined himself up to him. "Mm, Jonny."

"Mayson, lube."

"The hell with it. I want you now."

Jonathan didn't argue, but wet his fingers with his own saliva and coated his dick before Mayson impatiently sank down on it.

He moaned deep in his throat and leaning down began slowly kissing Jonathan before he began to just as slowly move his hips. Jonathan threw his head back, his back arching up, his hips rolling with Mayson's.

Mayson wanted to tell him to be still, let him do the work, but Jonathan grasped his hips and slowly and expertly pressed that button; all words left him and he was left in a blinding white light of pleasure.

Both knew they weren't going to last, nor did they try, they just lost themselves in the moment, in the love within the pleasure. Jonathan sat up, so they were both upright, and pulling Mayson close, grabbed his leaking cock. Mayson moaned Jonathan's name as orgasm hit, overtaking all limbs and conscious thought. Jonathan followed soon after.

In the afterglow of their union, they lay entangled together. Jonathan pulled Mayson's lips gently to his, kissing him softly, sensually. He frowned slightly at the wetness under his palm as it rested against Mayson's cheek.

With a look, he inquired. Mayson looked down, pushed his face further into Jonathan's hand, and took a deep breath. With his thumb, Jonathan wiped away the saltine trail.

"I...had a dream...a dream I've...I've been having frequently. Y-you died. Luc-he...you weren't wearing a vest or something...but...y-you died in my arms...and when I w-woke up...I don't know...I saw you laying there and I just..." He took a deep breath. "I needed you."

Jonathan pulled Mayson close to him, gently kissed his eyes, pulled him close to his chest, and laid them both back down.

"Go to sleep, little duck. I'll be here when you wake."

"Promise?"

"I promise, my love."

Jonathan watched Mayson from afar as the younger man sat at the dock. He leaned against the door-frame, his arms crossed over his chest just above where the healing contusion lay. He sighed and closed his eyes. Mayson hadn't been skittish since they made love a few days ago. At least as skittish, Jonathan thought ruefully. There had been a few times Mayson had flinched as Jonathan had reached for him, and each time it broke both their hearts a bit more.

Jonathan entered the living room fresh from the shower, his hair still damp and clothes still slightly sticking to him. Mayson slightly smiled at him as he sat next to him; the most of a smile he'd gotten that day.

"Hi, little duck," Jonathan said lightly.

"H-hi." Mayson looked away, his eyes going back to his hands. He sat sideways on the couch, one leg drawn up underneath him.

Jonathan reached out and clasped Mayson's hand, not pulling away when he jumped. Since that night he'd awakened him, needing his physical touch, Mayson hadn't let Jonathan touch him much, except at night when he willingly allowed Jonathan to wrap him up in his arms and chase the nightmares away.

"Little duck, I-I'm not going to hurt you," Jonathan whispered, his voice thick.

"I know, Jonny."

"Do you?"

Mayson looked up, his eyes watering again. "I know, Jonny."

"Why are you so scared of me then?"

"I'm not scared of you." Mayson tightened his hand around Jonathan's unconsciously. "You're the only one I've never been afraid of, Jonny. I'm sorry."

"I'm not gonna get mad if you tell me you're scared, baby. But, please...talk to me. Let me back in, Mayson," Jonathan pleaded, his eyes crying along with Mayson's. "I need you, Mayson. I need to be able to talk to you again. I need you to talk to me again. I need you to look at me. I need...you...please, Mayson, come back to me."

"I can't get his face out of my head, Jonny. I see him everywhere. I'm not afraid of you. I'm afraid of him. And it's ridiculous because he's fucking dead. He's fucking dead, I fucking killed him...why does he still have power over me? It's his hand I see when I flinch, not you. I'm not afraid of you. I'm not...I'm not..." He shook his head and dropped it into his hands, evidence of his sobbing dripping from between closed fingers.

Jonathan didn't move. He didn't want to frighten him by attempting to touch him while in this heightened state, while Mayson was blind to his movements. "Why are you so afraid of letting me in, Mayson? I know what happened, love...what I saw of it...but you won't talk to me about it."

"I can't. I can't, Jonny."

"Why not, duck?" Jonathan brought Mayson's hands down from his face, held tightly in his own. "Talk to me."

"I k-killed-killed him. I s-saw you fall, I heard the shot...I grabbed Mike's gun and and and I sh-shot him l-like you taught me. I killed him." Mayson looked up, his eyes full of fire and hatred of the purest kind, his face eerily calm. "I killed him and I'd do it again. And..." his voice softened. "I don't feel bad...why don't I feel bad?"

That was his little duck. He felt guilty for not feeling guilty. He smiled. Mayson hadn't said much after that, he just cried into Jonathan's chest clinging, clinging.

Slowly Jonathan made his way towards the deck. His chest was mostly healed of the deep bruising, but his breath still came up short when he exerted himself too much.

He knelt down gently behind him and kissed Mayson on the shoulder. "You gonna come inside, little duck?"

Mayson shrugged looking out at the water.

"You've been out here for hours. Come in. I'll make us some dinner and we can curl up and eat by the fire. Maybe make some s'mores afterward for dessert?" He tried to keep the smile on his face and his voice hopeful, but he soon felt himself deflate as Mayson merely shrugged again.

Jonathan sighed and dropped his head on Mayson's shoulder, and squeezed his eyes shut. He had thought that they maybe were going to get somewhere on this whole communication thing, but Jonathan felt his throat tighten.

"Right." He sighed again and swallowed. "I guess I'll leave you alone then. I love you."

Jonathan sank down on the bed after he came back inside, the idea of dinner suddenly not so intriguing. As the tears spilled he did not try to stop them, just grabbed Mayson's pillow, and buried his face into its depths.

He screamed. He could feel his face turning red as his voice was muffled, as the tears were being soaked up by the pillow. He took a deep breath and screamed again, his shoulders shaking as he ran out of breath. When the tears ran dry, he undressed and climbed in the shower. He turned the water on as hot as he could stand it, and let the water run down his face, and chest, and back, and legs. He heard the shower curtain open and he felt Mayson step in behind him.

Mayson kissed along Jonathan's shoulders, his lips and tongue traveling across the crevasses of his muscles, tasting his skin. Mayson reached around and grasped Jonathan, making him gasp and moan. He felt himself getting hard in Mayson's hand, and he felt Mayson getting hard behind him. Without preamble, Jonathan felt Mayson line up and enter him. Jonathan threw his head back as pleasure spread through his body. Mayson grabbed his hips and moved fast and hard. He didn't pull Jonathan close to him, but kept him at a distance, hands grasping his hips as he moved in and out. Mayson's moans overpowered Jonathan's as he lost himself in the feelings of being inside the man he loved, but he did not notice Jonathan's minimal participation. He finished Jonathan before finishing himself, hugging his love from behind. He kissed between Jonathan's shoulders and then slipped out. "I love you. I'm sorry, Jonathan. How about I make dinner? We can still curl up with the fire to warm us and all that like you said before."

Jonathan nodded. "Okay, Mayson. I'll be there in a minute."

Mayson kissed between his shoulders again, Jonathan felt him smile against his skin, then he stepped out of the shower leaving Jonathan alone.

As soon as the door clicked behind Mayson's retreating back, Jonathan sank to the bathtub floor and silently broke down as his heart broke into tiny fragments.

He felt used. He felt used like when his father had finished with him; he'd always kissed his shoulders before leaving him alone with his tears.

While it was true that Mayson had made it his custom, something he had always done since Jonathan had openly allowed Mayson entrance, this time it felt different. Mayson never knew his father would do that same thing, mocking him, and yet Jonathan couldn't help but feel like his father had been channeled within that kiss. As the thought passed through his mind Jonathan heard his father's laughter from beyond the grave and felt the ghostly graze of rough fingers.

Jonathan screamed.