GENRE: Gay Spicy Romance
LENGTH: 25,358 words
RATING:

Mason Jaspers is a virgin, but that’s about to change. At least, he hopes so. Then again, it all depends on his longtime crush and current tutoring student Owen Fairchild.

Owen is everything Mason is not: the confident jock to Mason’s insecure nerd, taut and toned where Mason is long and gawky, tan and ruddy where Mason is pale and smooth, and far from a virgin. Owen is GSU’s resident cock of the walk: openly gay and eagerly slutty, sleeping with any guy he can, as often as he can, before moving onto the next. And the next and the next ...

Because this summer will be spent rehabbing an old farmhouse as part of their Residential Real Estate course, and the two opposites must share the same house, for better or worse. And when Mason walks in on Owen pleasuring himself, things escalate in a way neither can deny, let alone prevent ...

EXCERPT:
Note: may contain sexually explicit scenes of a homoerotic nature.

Owen’s hand was on the table, slight and veiny like the rest of him. It looked, it felt ... like an invitation. Mason reached quietly over and covered it, gently, with his own. Owen didn’t flinch, didn’t balk, didn’t yank it away. Instead he turned his head back to Mason, their eyes meeting in the shimmering candlelight. Mason squeezed it lightly before muttering, “Never looked back ... until tonight, that is?”

Owen’s voice cracked in reply, his tone matching his fractured, broken posture as he sat, slumped across the table. “I guess so.”

Mason took a long, slow drag from his beer. “So that’s your confession? You’re a big, fat slut and want to be a born-again virgin, like me?”

Owen finally cracked a smile, if not an outright chuckle. “Pretty much, yeah.”

“And I’m a virgin who’ll never get laid because I’m too afraid to touch another guy?”

Owen merely arched an eyebrow, bushy and soft beneath the shadow of his brim. “I’d amend that to say you’re a virgin who, up until tonight, has been afraid to admit that he wants to touch another guy.”

Mason nodded. For a pretty boy jock who liked to role play while he jerked off, Owen was no dummy. Far from it, in fact. “Fair enough. Either way, Owen, we’re quite the pair.”

Owen raised his beer bottle, clinking it against Mason’s for an impromptu toast. They both sipped, long and deep, eyes shadowy and moist in the flickering candle flames. Outside the screen door beside them, nature sounds trilled in the air: rustling leaves, wobbly rockers creaking on the front porch, crickets chirping. It was all music to Mason’s ears, much the same way Owen’s dimples were a feast for his adoring eyeballs.

“I’ll toast to that, Mason.”

They settled into a quiet silence, Mason’s heart fluttering with desire so strong he could hardly contain it. Didn’t want to contain it. Was so eager to loose it upon the world, and upon Owen’s world, in particular, he set down his beer bottle, licked his lips and gave a cautious grin. “Is it weird that your Freshman Orientation story just ... turned me on?”

Owen snorted, nearly spitting out his beer. “Yeah, actually.” Then their eyes met, and Owen’s playful tone softened. “Then again, if I were a virgin, I suppose it would turn me on, too.”

“Didn’t it that day? Or night?”

“What? Hooking up with my tour guide?” When Mason nodded, a little too eagerly, Owen finally took the time to consider it. “Yeah, it was a major turn on. I mean, this was my first random hookup on campus. Nobody knew me here. Nobody cared. Nobody even noticed him flirting with me for half the tour, you know? And when the rest of the group drifted away, they just ... drifted away. Nobody called my dad. Nobody hung around to make sure I was going straight home. They just ... left. And there I was, with this hunky dude who couldn’t keep his eyes off of me. I was flattered, excited and, yeah ... totally turned on.”

“I bet.” Mason’s voice was low and soft, barely masking his simmering desire.

“You would have been too, Mason.”

Mason rolled his eyes. “Maybe from afar, Owen, but ... that kind of stuff? Never happens to a guy like me.”

Owen waved his beer bottle almost ... angrily. It matched the vaguely grumpy tone in his voice. “A guy like you. A guy like you. I’ve been hearing that since we got here and, Mason? Guys love a guy like you.”

“What, some pasty ass geek who trips over his two left feet? Some four eyes who’s always got his head in a book? Some dweeb who weighs a hundred and forty-five pounds soaking wet?”

Owen leaned forward, pounding the table with each raucous reply. “Yes, yes and yes, you big blind dummy! You just ticked off like, five of my own personal sexy times Dreamsicle wish list items!”

Mason held up a hand, quivering though it might have been. “I’ve already forgiven you, Owen. You don’t have to flatter me to get back in my good graces.”

“Screw your good graces, Mason. I’m trying to get in your pants!”