Jonathan pulled out slowly before pushing back in, his moans loud in Mayson's ear, Mayson matching him in volume. Mayson shuddered when Jonathan hit that magic button deep within and captured Jonathan's swollen lips with his and lifted his hips to meet him.

"Jonathan..." he moaned again, wishing Jonathan would speed up this slow torture, yet wishing it never to end. "Oh, Jonny, please..."

Jonathan smiled against Mayson's skin, his forehead pressed into his shoulder. He pushed hard and deep, causing Mayson to yelp in pleasure, his back arching, before slowly pulling completely out. Mayson moaned at the feeling of utter loss before Jonathan flipped to his back, Mayson coming to land on top as Jonathan pulled him down onto him. He moaned and forced himself to hold on; he didn't want this moment to end, either.

Sitting up so they were face to face, they wrapped their arms around each other, moving slowly, deeply, reuniting with each other, within each other.

"Fuck, Jonny, I'm so close." At these words, Jonathan grabbed Mayson's neglected member and moved his hand in rhythm with their bodies.

"I love you, Mayson. God, I love you," Jonathan confessed before capturing his lips. Their moans became guttural and their speed quickened as they reached their peak together and fell in each other's arms.

Mayson kissed Jonathan softly. "I love you, too, Jonny. I love you so much."

Jonathan frowned slightly, running his thumb down Mayson's cheek. Mayson smiled and shook his head.

"I'm just happy, Jonny. Just...happy." He sniffed and laughed, blushing a bit. Jonathan smiled, too.

"Me, too, little duck. I never thought I could be so happy."

Four months had passed since the ambush at the beach house. One month since they returned from the cabin. Boxes were stacked halfway up the walls and in various states of full. Jonathan kissed Mayson, softly, sensually.

"I really do love you, duck."

When they arrived back at Jonathan's once leaving the cabin, they were surprised to find it ransacked.

"Lucius," Mayson whispered the name; fear, loathing, and sickening anxiety filling him. He looked around in a panic as if expecting the owner of that name to pop out from behind the curtains, or materialize from the walls themselves.

"Duck," Jonathan stepped into his sightline, setting his hands on Mayson's shoulders. Mayson looked at him, his eyes brimming. "He's dead, Mayson." Jonathan thumbed away the wetness as it leaked from his eyes. "He can't hurt you anymore. Or ever again. No one will ever hurt you again, baby. I swear by it."

He swiped a lock of hair from Mayson's eye. "I would give my last breath protecting you from being hurt."

Mayson shook his head. "You can't do that, Jonny."

"Why not?"

Mayson leaned up to kiss him, his bottom lip trembling at the contact, "Because I need you to keep breathing. Without you...without you, there's no fight left in me. I can't...I-I can't..."

Jonathan wrapped his arms around him and rocked gently. "Sh, sh, duck. I'm not going anywhere, Mace, you don't have to worry about that. You're safe. There's no danger, huh?"

Mayson grinned and nodded. He did not want to mention that danger from himself was always present.

"Mayson." He looked up at Jonathan. "Don't think about that, duck. I need you breathing just as much as you need me breathing, okay?" Jonathan's words shook as the thought passed his lips.

Mayson nodded. "I know, Jonny. I..." He sighed and looked down. "I know."

Jonathan nodded and kissed his forehead, attempting to calm his suddenly racing heart. He turned away to examine the uncontained scatterings of most of his belongings. He sighed.

It was going to take some time to clean this up and he wasn't looking forward to it. He bent and began gathering papers that had spilled from his desk drawers. He'd sort through them later. At this point he just wanted something to concentrate on that wasn't finding Mayson's body bled out from self-inflicted slits up his wrists. It wasn't something he ever wanted to experience again. He shook his head clear of that particular memory.

They cleaned the last remnants of Lucius' presence in just under three hours. They worked mostly in silence, the air heavy. Every so often they would catch each other's eye and smile. A kiss was shared, soft, and loving.

Despite the remainder of Lucius' memory scattered all around them, they felt a heat rising. Both knew it wouldn't go anywhere; yet. But it was more than they'd allowed themselves to feel in some time.

They had to bridge themselves to find each other once again. Neither wanted to rush into anything that might set them back from what they were trying to attain.

Once they were finished cleaning Jonathan began making them dinner.

"Hey, do me a favor? Go into the bedroom and in the top drawer of my nightstand, grab the blunts and the tray for me, please."

Mayson nodded coming back a short time later. He set the tray down and began methodically grinding up the bright green marijuana before rolling it into the tobacco leaf.

He lit it and began coughing. Jonathan smiled and took the blunt, taking a deep drag.

"Careful, duck," he said handing him a bottle of water. "This is a higher quality than what I brought with us." He chuckled and handed it back once Mayson caught his breath.

"Damn, Jonathan," he coughed again. "Ya trying to kill me with this?" He took another hit and passed it.

Jonathan smiled. "Nah, duck, just elevate you."

They ate in light conversation, low music playing in the background. Their moods were high, glassy-eyed, and happy.

At the pause in the conversation, Jonathan grew serious. "Mayson...?"

"Yeah?" Mayson frowned, worry suddenly filling him.

"I've been wanting to ask you something...but with everything that's been going on, it just...didn't seem appropriate...but...I, uh, wanna ask before I completely lose my nerve," he paused and look up at Mayson. "Will..." He paused again before fortifying his resolve. "I've loved you for a long time...and I really think that we can work. I don't want to spend nights without you anymore. I want to wake up with you in my arms like we have been these last few months. I want to go to sleep with you holding me. I wanna argue over the blankets and who's gonna cook dinner that night...Mayson...will you move in with me?"

Jonathan smiled at the memory of that moment. Mayson choked on his food, took a large drink of apple juice, caught his breath, and looked at him with wide eyes. He looked at Mayson who was now sleeping heavily on his chest and kissed his forehead. Mayson smiled in his sleep and snuggled closer to him. His face was peaceful, unmarred by any nightmares.

"Are...are you serious?" Mayson's face was full of shock, eyes wide, his plate forgotten. But then he smiled and Jonathan let out the breath he'd been holding. "I...I'd love to..."

The following day they prepared to head to the house that held so many nightmares, pain, and screams.

"Duck, I don't think you should go," Jonathan said in a low, almost pleading voice.

"I have to get my stuff, Jonny," Mayson protested, his voice low and serious. He wasn't going to give up this fight.

"Mayson, you don't need to go back to that house," Jonathan argued just as determined as his counterpart.

Mayson smiled and kissed Jonathan softly, his heart going out to Jonathan's protective side. "Jonathan...I need to do this. I..." He sighed and looked away, wondering how he could get through to him before meeting Jonathan's hard stare. "Jonathan, I can't run from my past forever. I won't pretend that going back there and seeing that place...will be easy...or that I'll have a grand time of it...but please...I need...some kind of closure to it. You can chastise me when we get home, but please, Jonathan...I need to do this.

"You'll be with me," he continued. "And if it becomes too much I'll go wait outside. But...please understand, Jonny. I need this to forget him."

Jonathan's resolve faded with every plea, the soft look in Mayson's eyes, and he sighed with a nod. "Alright, little duck." He kissed him gently and pulled him into a tight hug.

Mayson didn't mention the tension in Jonathan's body as he wound his arms around him. Gently he kissed Jonathan's cheek. "You'll be there to protect me, right?"

Mayson felt Jonathan nod against his shoulder. "Then I know I'm safe, Jonny. He can't touch me anymore."

Jonathan sighed and looked around his room. They'd unpacked more boxes that afternoon after their morning lovemaking. The time was enjoyable, they laughed and played, throwing the newspaper that had wrapped his breakables at each other.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Mayson?" Jonathan asked as they pulled into the driveway.

"No. But I need to do this." Mayson stepped out of the car and took a large, deep breath.

Jonathan joined him and stepped in his line of sight. "Can we wait for the truck?"

Mayson shook his head. "No, Jonny. You can. But...I have to go in now."

Jonathan followed behind Mayson, his anger growing with each step as he remembered what he walked in on the last time he was there. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath he crossed the threshold into that house for the last time.

Jonathan tightened his grip around Mayson as the events of that day ran through his mind. Mayson, to his credit, handled being there well enough. Better than Jonathan had expected. Better than Jonathan himself.

The movers showed up soon after Mayson and Jonathan, and Jonathan kept himself busy with directing the movers. He looked around the house feeling like something wasn't right.

"Jonathan, how you doing, kid?"

Jonathan smiled at Mike's greeting on the other end of the line. "Hey, Mike. I have a question...when your officers were scoping Lucius' house...did you ever search inside?"

"No, they were just tailing him. Keeping an eye on his movements. Why?"

Jonathan sighed. "Mayson's moving in with me."

Mike, in his excitement, cut him off. "Hey, I knew you had it in you, kid, to ask him!"

"Mike...this is important. I, uh, found a room...hidden...it's got video cameras and tapes...I bet they're not a Disney collection, either."

"Son of a bitch." Mike cursed under his breath.

"We shouldn't be here much longer. I'll text you when we leave. You should bring your men out here...I'm sure there's more than what I found. Just...wait until we leave. I don't want Mayson to see this. And your men showing up will make it harder than it already is for him."

"Shit, Jonathan. Yeah, alright. I'll gather a team. Let me know when you leave. Fuck."

"My thoughts exactly..."

"Jonny?"

"Huh?"

Mayson frowned. Jonathan had been distracted all day. It was two in the afternoon and he'd hardly said three words since they woke up.

"Are you okay?" Then a thought struck him that made him pause. "You're not...regretting this, are you?"

Jonathan turned to him then, a look of pure horror on his face. "God, Mayson, no. Why would you think that?"

Mayson shrugged. "I don't know...you've been really quiet all day and I just..." He shrugged again and looked away.

Jonathan sighed and rubbed his palms across his face. "It's not that, ducky. I love having you here. I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Well, what's going on then?"

Jonathan turned to face him. They were sitting on the couch, the television playing ignored. "When we were...packing your stuff the other day...I, uh, found a...hidden room."

"A hidden room?"

Jonathan nodded. "Yeah. It, uh, it was full of..." he sighed again and paused.

Mayson felt his heart drop. "Full of what, Jonathan?"

"Videos. And a camera."

A lump formed in his throat and his chest tightened. "V-videos of Wh-what?" But he already knew the answer.

"I called Mike when I found it. Texted him when we left so he could bring a team in. Mayson, there were cameras hidden in every part of the house. The videos...they went back for years. Up until...well, until he went to jail."

Mayson went very still. His eyes watered and tears fell but they went unnoticed. He blinked and blinked again.

"Mayson." Jonathan made to move closer but Mayson moved away.

"No. No, Jonathan, please don't touch me."

Jonathan moved back further than when he began. He watched Mayson closely.

"Why?" He said finally in a broken, hoarse whisper.

"He was a sick bast-"

"No," Mayson interrupted. "Why the fuck didn't you tell me this sooner?"

"What?" To say he was taken aback by Mayson's question is an understatement. He stared in wide-eyed shock, unable to answer further. Mayson's eyes turned to him, hot white anger flashing within his green eyes like lightning.

"Why did you keep this from me?" Mayson took a shuddering breath. "It's been a week, Jonathan. A goddamned week and you're just now fucking telling me?" The anger faded and a look of betrayal took over.

"Mayson..." he whispered and looked away, his own eyes watering. "I...I couldn't."

"How could you keep this from me?"

"How could I not?" Jonathan raised his voice, the tears spilling over. "How the fuck...it's been killing me since I found that room. How I was going to tell you. If I was going to at all." He stood and began pacing. "I've been...I've fucking been videotaped like that. I've been recorded while I was being raped. While they made me fuck my brother. I've been the center of attention while his goddamn friends watched it afterward. Why the fuck would I want you to have that same knowledge?" He stood still before turning to him.

"I'm sorry if you feel like I betrayed you by keeping it from you. It wasn't my intention, I..." He shook his head. "I'm sorry."

With that he turned and went into the bedroom, closing the door behind him.