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The conversation stopped, and Sam's eyes lit, as he heard the sound of the downstairs door closing. "Excuse me," he absently murmured, glancing toward Nathan, as he stood, turning toward the door, and the sound of someone bounding up the stairway. Owen burst through the apartment's open door, the look of joy on his face lighting the room like the sun. "SAMMY!" He swept Sam into a hug and a kiss so filled with passion, Nathan was . . . almost . . . compelled to turn away and give the men some privacy. Almost, but not quite. Lucas followed, only a couple steps behind, no doubt shouldered out of the way by Owen, to be the first to greet Sam. "Lucas! C'mere," Sam called, welcoming the slender, dark-haired man, with a kiss the equal of the one he'd shared with Owen. 'I've never seen a guy and girl kiss one another like these guys kiss,' Nathan thought, doing his best to ignore a twitch of his cock as he watched the three men. 'Compared to this, Riley and Bailey's kisses are . . . sedate. 'Watching this is way cool, but, the moment clothes start coming off, I'm out'a here. The guys might not mind me hanging around, but I'd feel royally weirded-out, watching.' He paused. 'Does that mean I'd hang round if I was participating?' He shook his head. 'Don't go there, Nathan! You've got enough confusion in your life. 'What a lucky man Owen is, to be partners with Sam and Lucas,' Nathan thought. 'He seems so happy . . . almost carefree. Listening to Riley and Bailey though, there are times when things going on in Owen's life make him anything but playful. "He walks on a knife-edge," Bailey once said. "His life is a balancing act. He never seems to quite know if he should laugh, cry, or be serious. His emotions run just below the surface, and constantly pull him in different directions . . . 'Do this. No that! Laugh! No, that's not right! Cry!' Depending on what he's feeling, it can be a joy to be with him . . . or," Bailey paused, "it can be utterly miserable." Riley had nodded in agreement. "Sometimes, he moves from one emotion to another for no apparent reason. He's happy one moment, and on the verge of tears the next." "It's all caused by the damned father of his," Bailey added, with more than a little heat in his voice. "I sometimes think Sam, Lucas and I are the only guys on the face of the earth, who grew up with normal parents. I always knew I was lucky. I just never realized how lucky, until I've encountered wackos like your dear mother, or Owen and Jonah's father." Riley's mouth twisted into a wry smile of agreement. Nathan's question, "Does Owen's brother suffer from the same problems as his older brother?" was answered by a shrug from each man. "Who knows? Neither Riley nor I have been around him enough. I'd say, though, that Owen allows himself to suffer more." "Or Jonah is better at hiding it," Riley murmured. After meeting Owen, Nathan had found it difficult to reconcile the actual man with the person Riley and Bailey described. 'One thing those guys never mentioned was his passionate side. Maybe they've never seen it,' he thought. 'Even I probably wouldn't have seen his behavior if Owen was aware of my presence.' Nathan squirmed, as he watched the homecoming, transfixed. 'Damn, but I feel as if I'm intruding on something very private, watching them, like I am. 'But . . . geez, what a sexy man Owen is,' Nathan thought. 'His personality alone would be enough to draw people to him like a magnet. That combined with his voice and awesome looks, makes him overpowering. I've never met someone who looks great.' Nathan studied the man who continued to be oblivious to everything, but his two partners. Owen's tight T-shirt hugged his shoulders, stretching across his back, and was tucked into the shorts which clung to his narrow hips. Nathan couldn't take his eyes off the flexing muscles of the blond man's arms, back, and buttocks, or the smooth legs and well developed calves. He moved with the unconscious grace of a dancer. His dark T-shirt set off his pale skin, and the slight flush of excitement on his cheeks. The barest hint of freckles across his nose made him look even younger than he was. 'So much has changed since Mother stormed off to Germany, and Dad sent me away. Most importantly, I'm learning a lot about myself. I never would have imagined looking at a man in the same way I'm looking at them now. Everything is so . . . different. Since leaving Atlanta, I am a different person. 'I've never seen anything like this,' he thought, returning his attention to the three men. He'd been lost in thought, but realized that his analysis of himself, his growth, his mother, and Owen, had lasted no longer than a couple moments. 'What I'm seeing in front of me is love . . . total and all-consuming.' He grinned, to himself. 'Not even Riley and Bailey have this!' Nathan watched, mesmerized, as Sam, never releasing Owen, tenderly ran the fingers of one hand through Lucas' hair, then over his cheek. "Ohhhh, I'm glad to be home," he said, in a low voice. He drew Owen to him for a brief kiss before doing the same with Lucas. "I've missed you both, so much." Owen sniffed, and swiped at his suddenly watery eyes. "Damn," he grumbled, with a catch in his voice, the emotions Riley mentioned threatening to overwhelm him. "Ohhhhh, Owen," Sam murmured, his tender words spoke of a long history of undersanding between the two men. "He's trying to say that you've been gone for six days, seven hours, and a few minutes," Lucas teased, holding his partners closer. "And, neither of us liked you being gone one bit." Sam smiled, touched more than he could have imagined. "Then, I'll talk to my boss, first thing tomorrow morning, and ask that he make some changes. Oh, yeah," he laughed, rubbing his nose against Lucas'. "You're my boss!" "Point taken," Lucas murmured, suddenly realizing that he and his two partners were not alone. He stiffened slightly, as he caught sight of Nathan, who smiled crookedly, and made a helpless gesture, from where he slumped in his seat. "Oh!" Sam looked over his shoulder, appearing thankful for the change in subject. "I'm sorry!" He glanced to his two partners. "I got so swept up in seeing you guys I forgot that we have a visitor. So," he teased, nudging Owen, doing his best to lighten his lover's mood. "We need to act civilized. No funny business." Nathan's grin broadened, as he held up a hand in greeting. "Um . . . hi." He madly thought of something to say. "Glad you all are back together again." He struggled to sit up straight, invisibility no longer on his mind. "Did you guys get the sainthood problem cleared up?" "Yep," Owen sighed, undergoing another change of mood, as he released his partners and flopped onto a sofa. He held out a hand for Sam and Lucas to join him. "We got it settled. Everyone agrees . . . I'm not a saint." "I could'a told 'em that," Sam muttered, in a deadpan voice, turning an ingenuous smile in Owen's direction. "Now, if someone had been calling you an animal . . . I would have agreed." Those words caused Owen to smile and nuzzle Sam's neck as he made growling noises. 'Only moments ago this man appeared near tears,' Nathan thought, in wonder. 'Very strange.' "Other people don't know him as well as we do," Lucas added, glancing from where he sat at Sam's side, toward Owen, who abruptly abandoned Sam's neck, leaning forward to make a face in Lucas' direction. "So . . . it's settled?" Nathan asked, amazed at the blond man's transformation. 'He's never released Sam's hand though,' Nathan observed. "I'm not a saint, but . . . when it comes to Lucas and Sammy, I am an animal, though we're not planning to announce that animal-thing to the world." "I'd much rather live with an animal than a saint," Sam murmured, leaning closer to Owen. "Saints aren't any fun, I bet." "Hey, I qualify as a saint . . . almost," Lucas protested, ignoring twin snorts of derision. "I said . . . almost!" "The dark-haired guy on my left," Sam explained, to Nathan, "doesn't qualify since he's even more sex obsessed than the blond one." "Hey!" Owen protested, sitting straight. "He is not!" Lucas interrupted, wearing a satisfied grin, for having coaxed Owen from his funk. "Yeah, even though everyone agrees that he's not a saint, just wait until he does another good deed," Lucas muttered. "Then, it'll start up again." Sam glanced from Nathan, who obviously already knew the answer to the question he was about to ask, to his two partners. "Umm, I'm almost afraid to ask, but, why all this stuff about Owen being a saint?" "Tell y'later," Owen replied, to Sam's questioning glance. "So . . . where are Riley and Bailey?" he asked, looking toward Nathan and raising his brows. "Prob'ly back at the bed and breakfast sowing their wild oats," Nathan muttered. "They never seem to get tired. I mean . . . geez . . . both of 'em don't seem to be happy unless they've got something shoved up their butt!" Sam's murmured response of, "I know the feeling," was ignored by Owen, whose mood had suddenly turned serious. "Does that bother you?" he asked, all teasing gone from his voice, as he leaned forward. "Watch it," Lucas whispered, "he's about to go into saint-mode." "I thought you'd have become used to gay stuff. I mean . . ." Owen frowned, glancing from Lucas, then back to Nathan. "Did what we did . . . greeting Sammy, bother you?" Nathan held up a hand. "I'm not bothered by them having sex all the time, or by you guys' greeting. Hell, I think it's all sort'a cool, n'all. I'm . . ." He thought a moment. "I'm . . . I'm . . . envious, is all. Riley's got someone to hold him n'stuff, when thoughts about our mother get t'be too much. Me?" He shrugged and crookedly grinned, "It sure would be nice t'be held at night, or to be greeted by someone as enthusiastically as you all . . . do." "It'll happen," Owen murmured. "Most likely, when you least expect it." Nathan shrugged. "Yeah, well. When I left Atlanta, being in a relationship with someone was the last thing on my mind. Now . . ." another shrug, "it's about all I think about. That, and Mother, of course." * * * "Why those incompetent sons of bitches!" Elizabeth Pruitt seethed. "They didn't even tell me what they were planning, leaving me to find out about the attempt on Franklin's life, and their ineptitude, by reading the newspaper!" She flung the paper aside, where it joined other trash littering the apartment's kitchen floor. She glanced at the growing pile of rubbish. 'I will not stoop to cleaning,' she thought, not for the first time. 'That is a menial's job, not mine. Since this place doesn't have servants, it doesn't get cleaned. 'Those . . . servants back at Pruitt House . . .,' she thought, in disdain. 'They're probably having a field day since I left. They never were worth a hill of beans, always thinking they were better than everyone else.' Elizabeth tossed the remainder of the newspaper on top of the growing pile of debris. 'I hate people who think they're better than everyone else. No humility, that's what those types have . . . no humility. Scum . . . all of 'em. 'And there's Franklin, going about his merry way, when he should be rotting in his grave. How can hired killers be so incompetent?" she simmered. 'If I'd been there, I would have put a bullet between his eyes! Then I'd be free to go after those ungrateful bastards of mine. If I only knew where they are.' Elizabeth began chewing on what had always been a perfectly manicured fingernail, and did her best to formulate a plan, managing a macabre smile. "Perfect," she almost laughed at the idea's simplicity. 'He doesn't expect anything, so he won't run. I'll use him as practice, then, once he's out of the way, I'll have figured out how to find the rest.' A slight noise caused her smile to fade. 'Are they back?' she asked herself. 'I bet Gustav is responsible for them following me, leaving threatening notes. No . . . it's Franklin! It's got to be Franklin. He's always hated me, even though I made him. Without me he would be nothing. 'I am a gentle Southern woman, an aristocrat! I was bred to be the jewel on a handsome man's arm, attending balls at the country club. I do not deserve to be hounded by killers, thrown out of my own house, and divorced by the man who owes me everything. He was nothing without me. So what if he owned a construction company. So what?' she wanted to shriek. 'A construction company! Menial labor. I detest the word! So what if he had plenty of money when I met him? I made him what he is! Now, he's alive, enjoying Pruitt house, no doubt galavanting around with some detestable social climber bitch, when here I am, the mother of his children, running for my life. All because of him! Him and Gustav, royal, class-A bastards . . . just like the boys! All men should be shot.' The noise returned. 'Was that the door?' She stood and warily approached the door separating the kitchen from the living room. 'No, not the door.' She focused on the window. 'It's just the wind blowing that infernal tree branch against the glass. That constant scratching is going to drive me crazy. 'Wait!' There was a slight rustle. 'That wasn't the tree branch!' Elizabeth swung around, just in time to see a large black rat scramble out from beneath the kitchen garbage and disappear down the hall. "Ahhh," she smiled. "Something to kill." She brushed a lanky strand of hair away from her forehead, crossed the kitchen, snatched up the largest knife she could find, amidst the mess, and headed down the hallway. * * * Micah Sutton lovingly trailed his fingers over a photograph of his grandparents, the only parents he'd ever known. "Grandma . . . Grandpa . . ." he murmured, with a catch in his throat. "I miss you both . . . so . . . much." He wiped the moisture from his eyes. 'I don't know what t'do without you guys. I never realized how much I depended on you both. Now that you're gone I realize I've got . . . got . . . no one. 'No brothers, sisters, relatives' . . . "and very few friends," he mumbled, as he looked away from the photograph of his grandparents, to his reflection in the dresser mirror. 'I need to eat more,' he thought. 'Maybe I'd feel better if I cleaned up and shaved. But . . . why?' What Micah saw in the mirror, was a twenty-two year-old man, with grey-green eyes, disheveled brown hair, and a two-day growth of beard. 'You're too serious,' he thought, as he slipped his wire-framed glasses off and set them on the dresser. 'There,' he did his best to grin, 'no glasses, not . . . quite . . . so serious looking. It's a good thing the unshaven look is fashionable.' His grin faded. 'There's no reason for you to be alone,' he told himself, sounding like his grandparents. 'You've had plenty of opportunities to be in a relationship . . . well . . . a couple . . . okay . . . one, maybe, but no . . . you were driven.' He thought for a moment, 'You were also afraid.' "There's no time for playing around," he'd told his grandmother, aware that he was avoiding the issue. "School and work take up all my time." He recalled his grandmother sadly shaking her head and telling him that he should, "make time to have a personal life." "I don't know how to have a relationship," he wanted to shout, in response to his grandmother's words. 'I'm not good enough,' he inwardly groaned. 'Relationships are for people who aren't afraid of being hurt, or of being . . . intimate.' He remembered bowing his head as his grandmother left the room. "I don't know what I want, or . . . who I am. I'm an emotional cripple. Who'd want someone like me?' Micah shook his head and sighed as he crossed the room, turning his back on his reflection, and all the arguments about relationships. He stood, for a moment, at the side of his grandparents' bed, looking down at the papers and belongings he'd been doing his best to sort through. 'Everyone seems to want some sort of paper, or record, or something, and I don't know where anything is.' He scanned some of the important looking items and picked up a black-bound notebook, which held his name and birthday on the cover, and, in smaller print, the name of a bank and an account number. It was the biggest puzzle in the whole mess. "What's this all about?" he asked, aloud, as if he grandmother would answer. "It's a bank's saving account record," he said, aloud, providing the only bit of information he had. Each monthly deposit was recorded in his grandmother's meticulous handwriting, a long list of deposits, one for every month of his life, until six months ago, when they'd abruptly stopped. 'Just before Grandpa died,' Micah thought, idly flipping through the pages. There were no clues as to where the money came from, or why. There had never been a withdrawal, only the monthly deposits, and records of interest earned. 'Twenty-two years of deposits.' He shook his head. 'Clearly, there was something going on, but what, and why? Grandma and Grandpa didn't have this sort of money,' Micah told himself. 'Where'd it come from, and why does the book have my name on it?' * * * "You guys are beyond awesome," Sam murmured, from where he lay, holding his partners close, one on either side. The three men had celebrated their reunion and now were immersed in the sweaty afterglow of their lovemaking. Lucas turned onto his belly and nuzzled Sam's small nipples, making sounds of pleasure, echoing Sam's sighs. "You're so horny, you must not have beat-off the entire time you were away," Owen observed, after he and Sam parted from a lengthy kiss. "Oh . . . I managed to cut back to only a couple times a day." "He's almost a monk," Lucas snickered, as he shifted position, and knelt at the foot of the bed, between Sam's spread legs. He glanced to where both Sam and Owen were watching him, and grinned as he held onto the base of Sam's cock. "I just can't seem to get enough of this," he said, as he licked up the underside, then engulfed the head. "Ohhhh," Sam exhaled, unsteadily. "This is waaay better than playing with myself." "Tell us what you thought about when you were jerking off," Owen murmured, as he began nuzzling Sam's neck, and running his fingers through his friend's thick hair. "It was the same thing most every time," Sam murmured, leaning closer. "Hmmm?" Owen hummed, as he nibbled one of Sam's earlobes. "Tell us." "We were like this . . . me on my back, just like now, with my legs spread wide, and Lucas suckin' on my dick." He rolled his head to the side and grinned at Owen, who had propped himself up on an elbow and was watching Sam wearing a slight smile. "And what did you imagine me doing?" He tweaked one of Sam's sensitive nipples, grinning at the response. "I bet I know." "You were squatting over my mouth, so I could lick your hole. You made lots of noise as you squirmed around on my tongue. You know how you do," Sam murmured, finding it difficult to concentrate, with Lucas expertly massaging his erection with the muscles of his throat. "Ummm," Owen murmured, as he and his boyhood friend parted from another kiss, which left them both breathless. "I think you've given me an idea." He grinned, as he knelt with a leg on either side of Sam's head. His heavy nuts and rigid erection rested on Sam's forehead and nose, teasing the man beneath him by remaining out of reach of his tongue. "Owennnn . . ." Sam groaned. "Be nice." "So . . ." Owen chuckled, as he rocked back and forth, moving closer to Sam's tongue. "So . . ." he repeated, "And all Lucas did was suck you, while your tongue was working on my butthole?" Sam answered, breathless with the treatment he was receiving. "No . . . um . . . after sucking me for a little while, he sat on my dick and fucked himself. I was spreading your ass cheeks, so I could get my tongue in deep. You were squirming around, mashing your hole down on my face, as you and Lucas kissed. Does that give you any ideas?" he asked, "or do you need instructions?" He stopped speaking, and gasped, as Lucas played out the fantasy and sat on his erection. "Ahhhh . . . . uhh . . .," he managed, as Owen proved he didn't need any instructions. He shifted position, spread his muscular cheeks with both hands, and pressed himself against Sam's extended tongue. "Ah, fuck," he sighed, as he watched Lucas' rhythmic movements, and rocked back and forth, dragging his hole over Sam's anxious tongue. "You guys 'gettin' close?" he asked, after only a few minutes. Sam grunted and Lucas loosely nodded, as he gripped his own penis with a firm grip and began to stroke faster. Owen pulled away from Sam's tongue, but continued to kneel, one leg on either side of Sam's shoulders. From long experience, the man beneath him, knew what to do. Owen loved having his hole tongued and played with. Now that it was wet, Sam easily slid two fingers deep into his friend, found the firm prostate, and began masturbating Owen from the inside. Owen's loud groan of pleasure caused Lucas to climax. His first shot splashed against Owen, then left a thick trail over Sam's chest and belly. The warm juice splashing onto his belly sent Sam over the edge. He arched his back, buried his fingers deeper into Owen's hole, and unloaded into Lucas, at the same moment Owen, jerked, and shot his own load, hitting Lucas with the first two jets, then adding his own sperm to the puddles on Sam's belly. "Mmmmm, a stellar fantasy, I'd say," Lucas sighed, as Sam's cock slipped free, along with a quantity of his partner's prodigious load. Before Owen could say anything, Lucas scooped some of his and Owen's combined loads and held out a hand for his partner to lick clean. "Friggin' fantastic," the blond man sighed, as he finished cleaning Lucas' hand, then rolled off Sam and onto his back with a satisfied sigh. A second later he propped himself up on his elbows. "Wait! I didn't get t'taste any of Sammy's load. Get up here," he ordered. "Lemme lick your hole. I love licking you guys' sloppy assholes." "Mine's not sloppy, Owen," Sam yawned. "I'm gonna go t'sleep. Hurry up and finish with Lucas, then we can all get some rest. These fantasies of mine always wear me out, something big time." * * * Nathan rolled onto his side and propped himself up on an elbow. He was spending the afternoon with Riley, while Bailey and Lucas discussed business. "Riley?" His brother looked up. "D'you think we're really safe from Mother, here? She's accustomed to getting what she wants, and has lots of ways to get it. She's not as dumb as some people think, especially if those attorneys at the Winton Law Firm are helping her." Riley thought for a long moment, as Nathan scooted into a cross-legged position. "I honestly don't know if we'll be safe anywhere, but, somehow, I feel more safe here than I did back in the city. Maybe that's just wishful thinking, on my part, but it's the way I feel. One other thing I'm sure of . . ." Nathan raised his brows. "I'm glad you're here with me. I've hated that I haven't experienced the last four years of your life. What Mother's doing has brought us closer together." He softly snorted, amusement. "Prob'ly the only good thing she's ever done." "Really? I mean . . . that's how you're feeling 'bout me? I've always felt like that about you . . . That is sooo cool. F'real?" "For real," Riley grinned, as he reflected on how young his brother seemed. "Nathan," Riley said, as he scooted forward, on the sofa and clasped his hands together between his legs, as he rested his elbows on his knees. "I know how you feel about getting too . . . close . . . to another guy." He held up a hand, asking to be heard. "Sometimes though, hugging someone, or getting a hug can be a great thing. You don't have to be gay to ask for a hug from another guy. Having someone hold you can make the world seem like a more friendly place. All us guys have someone to hold us, but you. You shouldn't have to face this whole thing without some sort of physical comfort. It . . . bothers me . . . you being alone, like you are. "So . . . we haven't discussed it, but I know I speak for all the guys . . . if you need to be held, just ask. No one's going to think you're asking for sex unless you say, 'Hey let's fuck.'" Nathan grinned. "Barring that, a hug is just a hug. If you feel weird asking one of the guys, I am more than willing. I'm not joking here. I know how you feel, about Mother n'all, and if giving you a hug and holding you for a bit will make you feel better, I'd love to do it. I know it'll make me feel better, knowing that you're that much less alone. If me hugging you creeps you out, Bailey, or Owen, or any of the guys, would do the same. Okay?" Nathan slowly nodded. "It's not like I have a lot of experience hug-wise. I gotta tell you though, the hug you gave me when I showed up . . . y'know . . . before you took that shower where you made sure I saw your asshole . . ." He chuckled at his brother's expression. "Well, anyhow," he continued. "That hug, and the one Bailey gave me at the airport, while I cried, were much more satisfying than any hug I've ever gotten from a girl, even ol' Melinda Sweets, back in high school. Sheesh, that girl's built like a football linebacker. Shoulders out to here, and arms like Owen's." He shook his head, in recollection. "She was always goin' round hugging everyone. I hated it. Biiig girl, wimpy little girl-hugs . . . a voice deeper than mine, and a face designed for radio. Ugh. If hadn't been for her wimpy hugs, I might'a thought that she began life as a guy and still had all those guy-hormones bulking her up like that." Nathan was silent for a moment then shivered at the thought of her touch. "Yours and Bailey's hugs . . . oh, and Dad's too, though, they're great. I'm thinking that it takes a guy to know how to hug a guy. Maybe some guys get off on petite little hugs accompanied by a squeal and a giggle . . . not me. If I'm gonna be hugged, I want to know I've been hugged." Nathan lapsed into silence. "It's sort'a like getting a handshake from a woman. Why bother?" Riley laughed. "You've given this man-woman thing a lot of thought." Nathan grinned"Yeah, since being around you and Bailey, I guess I have. I'm looking at a lot of things differently." He paused. "Maybe even hugging." * * * Micah Sutton had finally decided to take Gene Lawson's advice, and call the Pruitt Company attorneys, to ask for their help. 'There are just too many things to take care of,' he thought. 'I need to talk to someone about . . . everything.' He glanced at the black book as he dialed the attorneys' phone number. 'That is the biggest puzzle of all. What does it mean?' "Um, hello," he responded to the receptionist's voice. "My name is Micah Sutton. Mr. Lawson, over at Pruitt Builders, recommended I call and speak to Mr. Benham. It's about my grandparents' estate. Um . . ." he hesitated. "I'd like to make an appointment." * * * Nathan, Riley, Bailey, Owen, Sam, and Lucas turned as the downstairs door closed and someone shouted, "Hellllloooooo. We're home!" "Jonah!" Owen shouted, as he leapt over the arm of the sofa, and rushed out of the room. " "The last members of the comedy troupe, return," Nathan murmured, to Sam and Lucas, as his brother and Bailey hurried down the stairs to where a boisterous homecoming celebration was underway. By the time Nathan, Sam, and Lucas reached the bottom of the stairs, Riley and a broad shouldered man who looked as if he'd been poured into both his butter-yellow Polo shirt, and his jeans, were hugging, slapping one another on the back and generally acting like long lost brothers. "That's Corey," Sam murmured, to Nathan. "He and Riley knew one another, back at school. Corey was also good friends with Bailey." "Uh . . . oh," was all Nathan could say. "Complicated, isn't it?" Lucas' question raised a brow grin of acknowledgment. Nathan couldn't help but glance at Bailey, to see what his reaction was to Riley's behavior. 'Strange,' he thought, watching Bailey wait his turn to join in the welcome, anxiously shifting from foot to foot. 'I've obviously fallen either into some sort of alternate reality, where jealousy doesn't exist, or a 'Twilight Zone' television episode.' It was strange to see Riley kissing someone other than Bailey. Nathan grinned, to himself. 'A couple months ago I would have thought it really strange to see Riley kissing anyone. How my ideas of normalcy have changed!' He cringed. 'I'm sure glad Mother never saw this. In fact . . . I wonder how Dad would handle it.' His attention turned to the slender man, who was tenderly, almost reverently, trailing his fingers over Owen's chest. 'Brothers?' Nathan thought, in wonder, unable to imagine himself and Riley behaving in the same manner. The two men looked into one another's eyes, communicating volumes without saying a word. Owen's lips quirked, as Jonah, with his trademark red baseball cap, stuffed in the back pocket of his jeans, slowly drew Owen into an embrace, then closed his eyes and rested his head on his brother's shoulder. The silent welcome caused Nathan to look away, embarrassed by the intensity of the silent greeting, and Owen's murmur of, "I've missed you." Jonah said nothing, but tightened his embrace, silently communicating his feelings. 'They haven't kissed,' Nathan thought, 'yet their greeting is so much more passionate than the guys' greeting of Corey. 'These two are brothers?' He thought again, and blinked, as he experienced another level of what he'd begun to think of as gay culture shock. 'Sheesh! I never figured I'd get this kind of education when Dad sent me away from Atlanta. 'And, Owen . . . this is just another aspect of his complicated personality.' As he and his brother parted, Owen caught Nathan's eye and grinned. "Um . . ." he murmured, reluctantly tearing himself away from his brother's attention. "Jonah, Corey," he said, raising his voice and glancing toward Corey, who released Bailey as he heard his name. "I'd like you guys to meet Riley's brother, Nathan. It looks like he's a little overwhelmed with everything he's seeing." Jonah smiled broadly and engulfed one of Nathan's hands in a firm . . . manly . . . handshake. "Welcome to Riverton,' he said, in a voice so similar to Owen's, as to be indistinguishable. "I'm sorry for the circumstances which brought you guys here, but I'm pleased to meet you." Corey smiled, broadly, as he extended a hand. "Hey, Nathan! I'm glad to finally meet you. Riley talks about you all the time, tellin' us how lucky he is t'have such a great brother." "Um," Nathan murmured, completely disarmed by the attention of Corey's and Jonah's words. As always, when he felt uncomfortable, he turned to humor to cover his discomfort. He looked Corey up and down, from the sunglasses perched on top of his head, to his sparkling eyes, broad smile, complete with dimples, to the tight shirt which showed off his sculpted chest, and finally the low-slung jeans . . . which showed off his . . . 'What do I call it . . . equipment, junk, stuff, meat, dick . . . what?' He focused on the bulge, then looked up, blushing when he realized that Corey knew precisely where he'd been staring. "Um . . . ah . . . It's great t'meet the guy Bailey's mentioned as wearing sequins," he grinned, pleased to have diverted the attention away from himself, as Corey turned toward Bailey, and everyone else chuckled. Jonah had moved to Corey's side, and into a one-arm embrace, allowing Owen to return to Lucas' and Sam's side. Even though the two brothers were apart though, there continued to be a . . . connection. As Nathan watched, Owen caught his brother's eye and grinned. 'These two are in love, like I've never seen two people in love,' he thought. 'Oh, if someday someone would look at me like that,' he added, wistfully. Bailey gave Nathan an exasperated glance, as he began to explain his comments. "Once, I mentioned sequins in the same sentence as your name," Bailey protested, ignoring Nathan's unrepentant grin, "and I've lived with that slip of the tongue ever since!" "He wishes I'd wear sequins," Corey laughed, turning to Nathan. "He always was a little . . . y'know . . . weird." "Y'mean, 'cause he's so loud when he and Riley are going at it?" "That, among other things," Corey answered, resting a companionable arm across Nathan's shoulders. "I ignored those things though, when he n'I were foolin' around, 'cause he is a genuine bonafide top-man." "Geez," Bailey groaned, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. "Let's dissect your love life, why don't we?" "Top man?" Nathan laughed, relaxing and beginning to enjoy himself. "Is that what he told you?" "What did I ever do to deserve this?" Bailey groaned, then quickly held up a warning hand. "Don't answer," he muttered, glancing toward Lucas. "It apparently is my lot in life to pay and continue paying." "Sometime's he'a a top," Riley added, defending Bailey. "Thank you." "Most of the time he's not though," Riley added, with a laugh, twisting away from Bailey's playful lunge, while Lucas and Sam hooted with laughter, and Owen and his brother silently communicated. "I keep him satisfied though," Riley added, pleased to be discussing his sexual prowess. "Yeah, right," Bailey retorted. "I expected more. You promised the earth would move." "When?" Riley shouted. "Owen delivers on that promise." Sam's comment was accompanied by Lucas' smug nod, Owen's brilliant smile, and Jonah's enigmatic expression. "Owen delivers? . . . Naw," Riley guffawed. "Owen?" he asked, his voice rising. He turned to Sam, gesturing toward the blond man. "This Owen? . . . You sure?" "Of course, this Owen!" Owen protested. "Y'know another guy with that name who Sam and Lucas regularly go to bed with?" "It moves . . . every time?" Bailey asked, clearly impressed, as he looked from Owen to his two lovers. There was a long pause. "How can you hear it, over his moans and groans?" Owen . . . silently . . . rolled his eyes, choosing to ignore both Bailey's comment, and satisfied smile. "I hear fireworks," Lucas said, sidling closer to his lover, and holding him with a possessive arm around his waist. "It's that creaky bed of theirs," Jonah added, in a stage whisper, turning towards Nathan, and nodding, knowingly. "I hear music," Sam added. "I told you to turn the stereo down," Corey elbowed Jonah. "Now, you've got 'em all confused. It's a good thing you weren't playing the National Anthem. Otherwise, they wouldn't have know whether to finish what they were doin', or stand up." "I had the music playing to cover up all of Owen's grunting and groaning comin' from next door," Jonah complained. Owen playfully frowned. "You better watch it, Buster." He turned away from his brother. "Besides feeling the earth move and hearing music, they didn't mention my sexy body and my unbelievable stamina," he added, puffing out his chest. "Or your stellar butt," Lucas added, giving the seat of Owen's shorts a sharp swat. "Or your humility," Sam added, in a dry voice. "Hey!" "Don't you guys ever talk about anything other than sex?" Nathan asked, raising his voice. "Not that I'm complaining, but . . ." He sheepishly grinned. "I'm jealous, is all." "Well, we've got'a find you someone to snuggle up with, now, don't we?" Corey grinned, turning to Nathan, as everyone began to head upstairs. "What sort'a person are you looking for?" "Hell if I know!" Nathan laughed. "I'm as confused as a baby in a topless bar." "Uuuuu, I think I'm gonna really like this man," Corey crooned, as he turned a brilliant smile on the man who was wondering why it felt so . . . good, to have someone like Corey, touch him. * * * Pruitt Builders' lead attorney, Lance Benham, extended a hand in greeting, hesitating slightly as he returned Micah Sutton's handshake. "Ahh, Mr. Sutton. Gene, over at the Pruitt firm told me you might be calling. Come in, come in," Lance added, gesturing toward his office. "My apologies for hesitating, a moment ago," Lance explained, as he closed the door to his office and gestured toward a comfortable looking chair. "You remind me of someone, that's all."
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