In Transit

Mason was stunned, speechless, and so confused. The man knew Harry’s name – this man who was his long lost father. He knew his name, which meant he probably knew other things as well. Like how Harry was his god damn long lost son.

“You know who I am?” Harry asked angrily.

“I-I… yeah,” the man sighed, bowing his head for a moment before looking back up at Harry.

He was tall, unusually tall and had short brown hair and an impressive jawline much like Harry’s. Harry also had the man’s eyes, not only in color, but also in shape. As Mason continued to dissect him with a quiet stare, she also recognized the shape of Harry’s lips, actually the shape of his whole mouth was similar to his bio-dad’s. The resemblance was uncanny and it blew her mind.

“You… you—damn it,” Harry grumbled, running his hands through what was left of his hair after his haircut. Mason’s attention immediately snapped to him, realizing he was quickly falling apart.

“Harry, let me explain…” The man started.

“I am twenty-four years old. I am fucking twenty-four years old and I just found out about you. How long have you known about me? How long have you—” Harry cut himself off, the emotion in his voice plaguing his words.

“Please, just let me—” The man started to say again.

“How long have you known!?” Harry screamed at him.

“Harry,” Mason said quietly, placing her hand on his arm, but he shook her off.

“I came to see you at the hospital the day you were born,” the man admitted, bowing his head once again.

“You—Jesus Christ,” Harry snapped, slightly staggering backward.

“Victor, what is going on?” They heard from inside the house and Mason’s eyes came up to see a woman standing not far behind the man.

“Its fine, Isabelle. Just… I’m taking care of it,” he called back to her.

“You’ve never taken care of me in my life, why start now?” Harry spat viciously.

“Harry, you don’t understand,” the man turned his attention back to his illegitimate son.

“I understand perfectly,” Harry scoffed, throwing up his hands as he stalked away down the driveway.

“Harry!” Mason shouted, following quickly behind him.

“Harry, please let me explain!” His father shouted after him, but Harry ignored them both.

As soon as Harry got to the car, he got inside and started the engine. Mason thought he might leave her there if she wasn’t right on his tail. She quickly slid into the passenger seat and he peeled away from the curb, leaving his father in the dust.

Harry’s chest was heaving and Mason could tell he was having a panic attack; the anger was radiating off of him. She wanted to do everything she possible could to sate him, but she didn’t even know where to start.

“Harry,” she breathed.

“Don’t,” he said sharply, not even looking in her direction, and it made her shut up fast.

Harry drove, and he drove fast. They were out on Interstate 25 and out of the Albuquerque city limits faster than she could have imagined, and she quietly wondered if that was it for him. All this time wasted on driving across the country for that? She couldn’t let him do that to himself.

“Harry,” Mason whispered after giving him time to think and cool down, but he ignored her completely.

“Harry, please,” she pressed desperately before he finally turned his angry gaze on her.

“Please stop the car,” she told him.

Ignoring her, his vision aligned back up with the road, driving at the same heightened speed.

“Harry, I don’t care if we stop for the night even though it’s only like four o’clock in the afternoon. I just want you to stop right now,” Mason said, making her words sound as stern as possible.

“I’m not stopping,” he said, the words coming out low and dark.

“STOP THE CAR RIGHT NOW, HARRY!” Mason screamed at him.

“No!” He shouted back.

“STOP THE CAR!” She yelled again.

“Mason, I’m not stopping the fucking car,” he growled at her.

“If you don’t stop the car right now, I’ll make sure the next time you do, I will call a cab to take me to the airport and I’ll be getting on the next flight out of this fucking place. Stop. The. Car,” she scowled, hitting him with an empty threat.

“God damn it, Mason,” he growled, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel tightly.

“Next exit, Harry,” she pressed firmly.

“YEAH! God!” He snapped angrily at her.

They sat in irritable silence for the next two minutes before Harry merged toward the next exit and brought them into the city of Los Lunas, New Mexico – population 24,877. Harry pulled into the Days Inn parking lot and cut the engine.

“Thank you,” Mason whispered. Harry grunted in acknowledgment as he ran his fingers through his hair.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice cracking because of the emotion building up inside of her. She watched Harry’s jaw clench and unclench as he stared straight through the windshield.

“I’ll go get us a room,” she said quietly before she slowly climbed out of the car and left him to be alone with his demons.

It took a few minutes for someone to help her at the hotel because a large family was checking in before her. After dotting her I’s and crossing her T’s, she received the hotel key and headed back to the car. She found Harry slumped over the steering wheel and it nearly broke her heart to see him so distraught. Mason quietly slipped back into the car, but she knew Harry knew she was there because he immediately started wiping at his eyes, trying to hide the tears that were bombarding him.

“You don’t have to hide from me,” she told him, her voice just above a whisper.

Harry looked over, his eyes tear-stained and red, and just stared at her – the kind of stare that would usually make her so uncomfortable it would make her fidget in her seat. But this time, she just stared back, willing herself not to flinch or look away.

“I need you,” he breathed, and she knew exactly what he meant.

Mason nodded her head once, and within seconds the two of them got out of the car and made their way to the hotel room – the very first hotel room she ever rented.

As soon as the door slammed behind them, Harry’s hands gripped onto her face and his lips crashed into hers. The heat and passion his kisses took on was almost knee-weakening. It was a vast contrast of the intimacy they shared the previous night, but it was intimacy she was familiar with, and she knew her way around it. She could handle the desperation of this type of sexual act.

Mason shed off her cardigan sweater as Harry walked her back toward the bed, one of his arms wrapped around the small of her back, the other groping down her front – collarbone to breast. She was already panting as her hands brought up his t-shirt, breaking their kiss only to discard it onto the floor before their mouths connected once again and her fingers immediately fell to the waistband of his jeans. She fumbled with his belt and popped open the fly, still kissing him with fast, heated strokes of her tongue against his. Her camisole was ripped over her head in an instant as Harry’s free hand glided over the tops of her breasts, worshipping her skin.

A low groan escaped his lips as he lifted her up against his body and tossed her onto her back on the bed. He was on her in an instant, digging his arm underneath her so he could pull her up even farther on the mattress. He was aggressive, but she always liked this side of him – even though the circumstances in his life that got him to this point were usually appalling.

Harry’s mouth worked down Mason’s body, leaving a trail of kisses on her stomach as his fingers busily undid her jeans and pushed them down her hips. As he sat up on his knees to pull her bottoms off, she did her best to catch her breath, realizing how rapidly everything happened. Not even five minutes before, Harry was in the car crying over the realization that his biological father knew about him his whole life and did nothing to contact him.

Once Mason’s jeans were pulled off, Harry ripped her panties off too before looking up at her. His eyes were wide, almost feral as he looked into hers. Her heart broke for him, which was an entirely new feeling for her. She understood his pain before, but she never actually felt it until now.

“Harry,” Mason whispered, reaching up to place her hand on his cheek. His eyes softened slightly, but then he closed them and shook his head, trying to fend off whatever he may have been feeling in the moment.

“Just fuck me,” he told her, before his eyes opened again, showing a fire in them that wasn’t there a moment before.

Mason kissed him hard and impatiently as she pushed his pants and boxers down his hips, showing him she was there for what he needed. Feeling slightly aggressive herself, she pushed up on his chest, indicating she wanted him to lie back, and he did. Her bra was shed next, thrown off the side of the bed with the rest of their clothing before she gripped his jeans and boxer briefs in her hands and tugged them off of him altogether.

In a bout of overconfidence, Mason’s hand gripped around his shaft as she started a slow tug up and down him. Harry groaned, his eye closed tightly, and it made her assume he was enjoying it. She never did something like that before… ever. She never had this level of intimacy with anybody. Her last real boyfriend was in junior high school and the farthest they ever got was dry humping on the couch as they made out. This – this was so much more than that.

Without thinking or overanalyzing it, Mason let her mouth come down to wet the head of his penis, and was greeted by Harry taking in a sharp breath.

“Was that okay?” She asked quietly as she stilled her hand, still gripping onto him.

“Y-yes. Definitely,” he said, his voice quivering slightly as he looked down at her.

“Okay,” she said quietly, and began moving her hand once again.

Her stomach was tied in knots, but she powered through it, licking him once again before wrapping her mouth around him. She was twenty-two years old and she never gave a blow job.

Harry’s breathing picked up as her mouth bobbed up and down on top of him, quietly sucking. She heard absolute horror stories about girls giving blow jobs who had ridiculously strong gag-reflexes, and it made her realize hers was not so bad. She especially enjoyed when his body writhed below her, because it was her doing. She was feeding him the pleasure that made him go crazy underneath her. She had all the power.

It startled her when she felt Harry’s hands on her shoulders. She wasn’t expecting it.

“M-mason,” he stammered, his breathing heavy.

Her mouth came off of him with a pop as she looked up at him wide-eyed, wiping at her lips.

“I’m gonna lose it,” he swallowed hard.

“Oh,” she said, once the realization hit.

“Come here,” he said, holding his arms out for her as a quiet little smirk turned up his mouth.

Mason couldn’t help the timid smile that formed on her lips, because she realized she drained the anger out of him by doing just that one act. She helped.

She quietly slithered up his body and he wrapped his arms around her, kissing her lips, even after she had him in her mouth. It seemed so intimate to her.

“I want you,” he breathed against her skin, and she once again noted to herself how she helped him calm down. She felt so good about herself in those lingering moments.

“Okay,” she said quietly as she slowly sat up on top of him, sitting astride him.

His hands gripped onto her thighs as she pulled herself onto her knees and gripped onto him again, slowly sinking herself down on top of him. Mason let out a shuddered breath as her palms pressed against his chest, steadying herself.

“Oh god, Mason,” he groaned, his eyes drooping closed as she enveloped around him.

She pulled up and sank back down, her body teetering on top of him, the pleasure automatically consuming her. It was a much more intense feeling being on top during sex. It felt like she took more of him in than usual, hitting a different angle altogether. It was a glorious feeling, and soon she was lost in the rhythm she created for both of them.

Harry’s hands were on her hips, guiding her along as her arms and hands pressed down against him, keeping herself upright. Their bodies worked so well together, they were so in sync with each other that she knew sex with any other man would never be as sweet. Mason realized this, and it scared the shit out of her, so she pushed it back into the darkest depths of her brain so she could continue on.

Her body began to shake and she knew she was close. It was maddening. She just wanted to scream, but she knew it was the middle of the day, and the images of the family who checked into their room before her flooded her head. She knew she probably shouldn’t be screaming out in case their room was anywhere near theirs, but she couldn’t help the gasps and quiet moans that escaped her throat as she fell forward, her hands fisting into the mattress on either side of Harry’s face. Their bodies were sweating, and it created a slippery playing field, but it only made it easier for them to move against one another. The silver cross that hung off a necklace around her neck that once was her mother’s was quietly bumping into Harry’s chin with ever thrust he was pushing into her, but he gave it no mind.

“Oh, god,” Mason groaned, burying her face against Harry’s neck as her body lost its rhythm atop him.

Harry continued for the both of them and soon she was moaning loudly against the sweaty skin of Harry’s shoulder as her orgasm ravaged through her like a canon shot through the stillness.

A few grunts and a couple thrusts later, Harry was also plowing through his own orgasm, pressing their bodies as tightly together as he could. She felt paralyzed against him as she tried to regain her normal breathing patterns. It felt like forever before either one of them could even move. But slowly Harry’s head turned toward hers, leaving a kiss on the side of her face before nudging her cheek with his nose. In response, Mason turned her head enough to try to read his expression, but Harry took the opportunity to connect their lips instead. His tongue tangled with hers in an erotic, pleasing kiss, and she could do nothing but kiss him back.

Mason woke up some time later, their naked bodies still tangled together above the sheets. Harry was awake with his arms around her and she could see the sun setting through the curtains.

“How long was I out?” Mason whispered through the dimly lit room.

“I’m not sure,” he answered quietly.

She slowly peeled her body away from him and sat up. A shiver ran through her after losing his body heat against her.

“What time is it?” She asked, running a hand over her face.

“Not sure,” he said again.

Mason looked down at him through the dimness, and saw the forlorn look on his face.

“Are you okay?” She asked him quietly.

“I don’t know,” his voice was almost inaudible.

“Harry,” she whispered, feeling the tugging in her heart.

He looked up into her eyes, but he didn’t say anything.

“You can’t leave it like that,” she told him, her eyebrows marred together with a frown.

Harry sat up quickly, tossing his legs over the side of the bed as his upper body slumped over, his hands dug into his hair.

“He wanted to explain,” Mason whispered.

“What is there to explain?” Harry said, his voice so loud and aggravated as he stood on his feet, plucking his boxer briefs from the floor. Mason watched as he slid them quickly up his body before grabbing his jeans, doing the same.

“I don’t know. Just… we came all this way,” she offered, shrugging her shoulders. She didn’t have a better excuse, because she knew if she were in the same position, she would feel the exact same.

“He knew about me, Mason! He knew,” Harry yelled, his eyes piercing through her.

“So did your mother,” Mason said quietly, her head bowed. She regretted her words immediately, because she knew Harry still cared very deeply for his mother, and she was just throwing it back in his face that there was one less person in his life he could trust.

“Fuck,” Harry growled, sounding defeated.

“I’m sorry,” she said shamefully as tears stung in her eyes.

“Mason,” Harry sighed, but she couldn’t look up at him.

“Mason, you don’t have anything to be sorry about. God. You’ve… you’re the only person I can trust. You’ve just…” He sighed, cutting himself off for a moment.

“You’re my best friend,” he finished, and it caused her breathing to shudder in her throat.

She finally looked up at him, tears well-apparent in her eyes, and he saw them.

“Please, Mason. Don’t cry,” he sighed again as he sat down with her on the bed.

“I’m sorry,” she said, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes.

“Remember what I told you?” He asked, and she quietly shook her head.

“It kills me to see a girl like you so sad,” he repeated his words from a night long, long ago.

Mason let her hands fall away from her face and looked into his eyes.

“Please don’t cry,” he told her, wiping the tears with the pads of his thumbs.

“I don’t want you to regret—please, Harry. I don’t want you to regret it if we go home and you never heard his side of the story,” Mason told him honestly.

Harry sighed, dropping his eyes away from her as he pondered her words. And when he was all done thinking, he slowly looked up at her and nodded his head.

“I’ll go back tomorrow,” he said, and in an instant his words lessened the lump that formed in the base of her throat.

Notes