Mason stepped inside, the screen door clicking shut behind him. The place was warm — too warm — and not just from the fire crackling low in the stone hearth. Something clung to the air. It was musky, sweet, earthy. He didn’t have to be experienced to know what it was.

Sex.

His eyes scanned the room quickly — couch cushions tossed about, a blanket hastily draped over the armrest, a glass on the table half-full of water with lipstick on the rim.

Jack stood there shirtless, only in sweatpants that rode low on his hips. His chest, still slightly flushed, rose and fell in slow, steady breaths. A bead of sweat glistened on his collarbone.

“You just get out of the shower?” Mason asked, trying to sound casual.

Jack’s lips twitched. “Something like that.”

Mason looked down, feeling his face heat up. “Didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”

“You didn’t,” Jack said, then paused. “Not unless you want to.”

Mason looked up sharply. Jack’s tone was neutral — but his eyes weren’t. There was something behind them: amusement, interest, the faintest flicker of challenge.

Jack moved past Mason slowly, his presence heavy, towering. He poured himself a glass of water, muscles flexing under golden skin. Mason couldn’t help but notice the strength in his forearms, the way his back rippled when he moved. Jack wasn’t just strong — he was built for work, for pleasure, for domination.

“You okay?” Jack asked, turning to lean against the counter, sipping from his glass.

Mason nodded, swallowing. “Yeah. Just… long day.”

Jack studied him. “You seem tense.”

Mason looked away. “A little, I guess.”

Jack pushed off the counter and walked toward him, slow and purposeful. He stopped close — close enough that Mason could smell him. And that scent… it wasn’t cologne. It was skin and woodsmoke and something feral underneath. Something masculine and overwhelming.

“You ever had a massage?” Jack asked, voice low.

Mason blinked. “What?”

Jack gave a small smirk. “You’re tight in the shoulders. I could loosen you up.”

Mason’s heart thudded. “I… I don’t know.”

Jack raised a brow. “You trust me?”

He did. For reasons he couldn’t explain. Jack’s energy pulled him in — not just because of how he looked, but because of how he made Mason feel. Small, seen, like a deer caught in headlights but unable to look away.

“Yeah,” Mason said softly.

Jack nodded. “Sit on the edge of the couch.”

Mason obeyed, hands on his knees, his body already humming with nerves. Jack stood behind him, resting large, warm hands on his shoulders. Mason inhaled sharply at the first touch — it was firm, grounding.

Jack leaned down just slightly, his breath grazing Mason’s ear. “You hold everything here,” he murmured, kneading the muscle with slow, deliberate movements. “Too much pressure. Not enough release.”

Mason let out a shaky breath. Jack’s thumbs pressed deeper, finding every knot and coaxing it loose. The strength in those hands was undeniable. But so was the care.

“You ever wonder what it’d be like to give up control?” Jack asked, his voice soft and hypnotic.

Mason’s mouth was dry. “Sometimes.”

“You think too much,” Jack said, thumbs brushing over the base of Mason’s neck. “Always looking for answers. What if the answer was just to feel?”

Mason’s eyes fluttered closed.

Jack moved, slowly, deliberately. His hands slid down Mason’s arms, thumbs brushing the inside of his elbows before retreating. He sat on the couch beside Mason now, their thighs touching.

“You feel that?” Jack asked.

Mason nodded.

“You’re not scared, are you?”

“No,” Mason whispered.

Jack turned slightly. “Good.”

The silence stretched for a beat. Then Jack leaned in and kissed Mason’s neck — just once, a gentle, unhurried press of lips.

Mason froze… and then melted. A heat blossomed in his chest and sank lower, deep in his gut. His cock twitched in his jeans, blood rushing south faster than he could understand.

“I…” Mason started.

Jack pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. “Say what you’re feeling.”

“I don’t know,” Mason admitted. “I’m confused. But I don’t want you to stop.”

Jack gave a quiet, satisfied hum. “Then I won’t.”

His hand moved to Mason’s jaw, turning his face gently. Their mouths met — soft at first, tasting, testing. Jack’s kiss was confident, teasing. He didn’t devour Mason, not yet. He drew him in, made him lean forward, made him need more.

And Mason gave it.

He opened his mouth to Jack’s tongue, let himself be kissed deeply, thoroughly. Jack’s hand slid down, resting on Mason’s thigh, squeezing gently. Mason moaned softly into the kiss, his body trembling.

Jack pulled back and murmured, “You’ve wanted this, haven’t you?”

Mason nodded, breathless. “I didn’t know how much until now.”

Jack stood, towering again, and reached out a hand. “Come with me.”

Mason took it.

They moved to the bedroom. Jack shut the door quietly behind them, locking it with a soft click — like a promise.

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