Four days had passed since the anniversary of his brother's death, and Jonathan felt his chest beginning to ease. He and Mayson were playing Chess at the kitchen table. Mayson was winning.
"Jesus, you're like Bobby fucking Fisher with this game!" Jonathan exclaimed when Mayson took his Rook. Mayson smiled triumphantly at the exclamation.
"You just need to pay better attention to what's happening in the game." Mayson poked his nose and giggled.
"It's hard," Jonathan whined elongating his R's, "I can't look ten moves ahead when I can't stop looking at you." He knew it was cheesy before he said it, but the rewarding blush from Mayson was exactly what he wanted. He secretly loved making Mayson blush.
"Jonny..." He bit his lower lip as he felt the blush deepen.
"What?" Jonathan's eyes sparkled with returning light.
Mayson giggled and took his Queen. "What the hell? How did-" he stopped realizing his mistake. "Damn it. I had plans for that piece, you know."
"Well, I guess not anymore."
Mayson had taught Jonathan how to play not long after he arrived at Mamma Scully's. It was how they really began to bond.
Mayson had been at Mamma Scully's for just under a month. His skin tone was becoming a normal shade and his weight was gaining.
It was difficult to get him to eat more than a couple of bites of any meal placed in front of him, but Jonathan seemed to be able to coax him into eating at least half. Mayson was in the office having a look around. It was a room he had yet to really explore. On the northern wall sat a bookcase that housed several games. Board games, card games, dice games. Mayson smiled lightly to himself when his eyes landed on the Chessboard.
"Do you know how to play?"
The question came from his left and he jumped away, a frightened yelp coming forth as he did so. Jonathan noted, and not for the first time, how small Mayson was. And how small he could make himself become.
"Sorry. Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I thought you saw me. I mean...I was sitting right there when you came in." Jonathan pointed to his left where an old arm-chair sat, a blanket, and a book atop it.
"Anyway, I'm really sorry. I really didn't mean to scare you."
Mayson nodded and looked at the chessboard and back to Jonathan, a question in his eyes.
"Can you teach me? I've, um, never played before." Jonathan rubbed the back of his neck and smiled shyly. Mayson seemed to consider it, then nodded, and took the game from the shelf. The floor was spacious and Mayson sat down on a round rug that was surprisingly soft and comfortable to sit on.
Mayson set up the board in silence, allowing Jonathan to openly observe him. As Jonathan watched him, he noticed Mayson concentrate hard on the contemplating thoughts spinning his mind. He simply waited.
"These h-here in the front are p-pawns..."
Jonathan listened to Mayson give a stuttering and quick overview of the game, teaching and reminding as the game continued. They played every day for a month before Jonathan had a taste of victory. He jumped up and danced, singing his win at the top of his lungs.
This was the first time he'd really heard Mayson laugh. It was low and quiet, his voice hoarse from disuse, but it made Jonathan stop in his tracks.
"What?" Mayson asked shyly as he looked away.
"You laughed." Jonathan smiled. "You're beautiful. So can I move the horse guy here?" He asked after Mayson set the board back up.
Mayson frowned a bit before his whispered reply. "N-no. It's a Knight. They can only move in the shape of an 'L', see? Remember?"
"Oh, yeah." He picked up the piece to examine it. "But if you look really close, it is actually a horse."
Mayson smiled at him and shook his head.
The boys played for hours, discussion dying to a minimum, either boy only speaking when a question was asked and answered. They played until Mamma Scully called them for dinner, then Mayson listened as Jonathan told her all about him teaching him Chess. Mamma Scully engaged him into the conversation, as she always did, asking him 'yes' or 'no' questions to nod in reply to. Jonathan did not mention Mayson speaking. He wondered why and asked him later that night.
Jonathan looked up from the book he was reading as he lie on his back in bed at the sound of soft knocking.
"Hey, come on in. To what do I owe this pleasure? You don't usually wander from your room this late."
Mayson stood by the bed in obvious discomfort. "Jonathan?"
"What?"
"Why didn't you tell her I spoke today? I...thought you would."
Jonathan shrugged and closed the book. "Well, I supposed if you wanted her to know, you'd have spoken for her, right? In due time, I'm sure. Don't worry. You're safe with me."
"That was the first time I felt like I may really be safe," Mayson whispered looking into his glass of red wine. The Chessboard had been put away some time ago for other fancies. After cleaning up the house they took a quiet walk along the beach, and now they were enjoying watching the sunset from the black leather furniture. The lights were low and candles were lit, spread out over the coffee and end tables, on shelves that adorned the walls.
Jonathan smiled. "I didn't know that."
Mayson nodded looking into his wine again. "You made me feel at ease. I'd never...known ease before...you never tried to touch me...I mean, we touched, but you never initiated it really...and you always had this...I don't know...slick smile...that one right there." Mayson traced his fingers down his cheeks. "I do love you, Jonny."
"I love you, too, little duck."
"I'm sorry, Jonathan."
Jonathan frowned. "For what?"
"For not telling you before. For everything. For making you not only watch me go from one violent hand to another...but for always making you pick up the pieces. Because I know that it hurt you." He paused and took a deep breath. "And mostly..." He pursed his lips momentarily before rushing through the last part of his apology. "Mostly because I was too afraid that you would turn out like all the rest...and I...I wouldn't survive that..." He trailed off and wouldn't look up, simply continued staring into his wine.
There was more he needed to say, Jonathan could see it in his face. He remained quiet, waiting for Mayson to push through what he needed to say. He struggled with the words and Jonathan reached out, gently cupping his cheek. Mayson's eyes traveled into Jonathan's chocolate depths.
"Th-there's something I n-never told you...that night I showed up at your house after Lucius..." He bit his lip and closed his eyes. He could do this. "When I woke up...I didn't...didn't go directly to your place...I went into the closet and pulled out Lucius' .45...I was gonna end it...end myself..."
As Mayson spoke Jonathan's heart began to break. He couldn't imagine what he would have done...
"But then," he continued, "I thought of you. Thought of how you would react...how much it would hurt you...how-how I promised you a long time ago that I wouldn't do that...and Jonathan, I couldn't do it to you. So I ran to you instead. I...I'm only alive because I couldn't leave you in that kinda pain. And...I'm sorry that I didn't tell you sooner. I'm sorry I was even consid-"
He was cut off by Jonathan's lips crashing to his. Mayson melted into him completely, his arms coming round to hold him closer still.
"Thank you, duck."
Mayson looked at him confused as to what on earth he was thanking him for. "Why...?"
Jonathan smiled softly. "For telling me...all of that. I know it was difficult telling me. And also...thank you for not going through with that...I surely would have followed you." Jonathan kissed him again, a gentle touch of lips.
"You're not mad at me?" The question was whispered, almost strained. He was worried about the answer.
"No, duck. I'm not mad. I'm not disappointed. I'm...relieved, to be honest. Relieved that you're still here to tell me...and that you did tell me. That you trusted me enough to tell me." He set his forehead against Mayson's and closed his eyes before gently pushing his lips to his love's one more time.
After that, the conversation turned lighter. Smiles decorated their faces and laughter spilled from their throats. They refilled their wine glasses, toasted to each other, to the future-their future. They drank and laughed and joked, and in those hours all else melted away. All the past. All the guilt. All the tears.
Laughter. Laughter was all that could be heard. For now, the pains of the past didn't exist, their doubts and demons took a back seat to ease and a bit of normality.
A break in conversation brought Mayson's hand to Jonathan's cheek. "You really are beautiful, Jonathan. I love you so much. I'm not so scared to say it anymore. Not to you."
Then his lips crashed unto Jonathan's and he slowly pushed him back so he was supine on the large sofa.
The kiss began as frenzied actions that slowed down to sensuous grazes and light teases. Both in boxers and a t-shirt neither had to guess about the other's excitement. Mayson ground his hips into Jonathan, causing them both to moan.
Summoning his courage and not putting in too much thought, Mayson lowered his mouth onto Jonathan's stiff member. Jonathan moaned deeply, gripping the couch as he moved with Mayson's slow rhythm. His body was on fire, acting and reacting with every motion Mayson made.
He was beginning to get close. He didn't want it to finish like this. "Mayson, please," he begged through his moans. "Please, I need to feel you."
Without thinking about what he was doing and acting on pure instinct, Mayson moved upward, making sure to coat himself in saliva, as lube was not something they were expecting to need, kissed Jonathan in heated passion, before slowly entering him.
Jonathan threw his head back, mouth agape, breath stuck in his chest as fire-hot pleasure rippled throughout his body. Jonathan wrapped his legs around Mayson, pulling him in closer, deeper. Mayson bent his head down, capturing Jonathan's lips softly, yet full of passion as he pushed himself deeper inside.
Mayson moaned, low and guttural. While he had, in all technicality, been inside a person before, this was intoxicatingly different. He'd never voluntarily had sex this way. He wondered at times if he'd ever had consented sex at all. But here, at this moment, those thoughts were the farthest from his mind. He was in a private utopia shared only with the man with whom he was joined. Their tongues and bodies dancing to music they created, their minds and hearts only for the other.
"God, Mayson, mmm," Jonathan gasped when Mayson hit his sweet spot at a different angle. Mayson smiled as he clamped onto Jonathan's neck and hit that spot again. They both moaned and Mayson repeated the actions, hitting a bit harder, a bit deeper. Jonathan's reaction, and the feelings it provoked sent electric impulses he'd never experienced before. He picked up his pace.
He was calling out Jonathan's name, lost in the pure ecstasy he was engulfed in. That Jonathan had engulfed him in. The sweat mixed on their bodies, a testament in evidence of their love and passion. Jonathan wrapped his arms around Mayson's shoulders and pulled himself to a sitting position, his lips never leaving Mayson's. Jonathan leaned back on one arm, his legs still wrapped around Mayson's hips, and rode him, impaling himself as he drove them closer to climax.
"Jonny, I'm close. Mm, God, Jonathan." Mayson grabbed Jonathan's shaft and matched Jonathan's set rhythmic motions and a few thrusts more Mayson felt Jonathan clamp around him before screaming his name and spilling himself into Mayson's fist. Jonathan's orgasm sent him over the edge a moment later and with a shuddering moan followed his lover off that proverbial cliff.
Mayson collapsed with Jonathan as his arm gave out and they lay panting within each other's embrace. Neither could speak, neither could move.
Jonathan felt a smile against his neck and he smiled, never before having been this elated.
"I love you, Mayson."
Then his heart sank, suddenly and coldly as he felt tears against his skin. He pushed Mayson back to see his face, his worry melting away at the younger man's expression. Tears, yes, but he was still smiling.
"I love you, too, Jonathan. Don't look so worried. Not now. This," He grabbed Jonathan's hand and placed it against his cheek. Jonathan instantly swiped across the pale skin with his thumb."Happy tears, Jonny. I'm happy." He laughed, but there was a mixture of emotions behind it. "I've never been happy before." Jonathan kissed him. It was tender and full of promise, hope, and future.
They showered soon after, taking the time to wash and explore each other once more before getting out and getting dressed.
Jonathan cooked them dinner, baked chicken with macaroni and corn. They alternated betwixt light conversation and companionable silence before they retired to their shared bed.
Before sleep claimed them they conversed, laughter and confessions of love last leaving their lips before they succumbed to slumber's calling.