Monthly Bonus Content #2 - Autumn Special (Mason Version) (Patreon)

“I just don’t see why we’re stuck doing this,” Mason grumbles, a cigarette hanging limply from his lips as he stabs at the dried leaves littering the lawn around the Warehouse.

I stare over at him with a brow arched. “Well it’s going to take five times longer if you just poke at the leaves instead of raking them.” I overemphasize my own motion of gently raking the leaves, and he puffs a string of smoke in response.

Another groan erupts from him not twenty seconds later. “They’re all off on a mission—”

“And you’re here stuck with me, doing chores. I get it,” I huff out, having heard the speech five times already. 

A whoosh of air makes the small pile of leaves I’d gathered together flutter around my feet. With a confused frown, I turn on the spot to find Mason right before me with a smirk on his lips.

“Oh, sweetheart/handsome, being stuck with you is not the problem,” he purrs. 

I chuckle, leaning on the rake in what I hope is a nonchalant kind of way. It seems to work as his gaze slides over me in appreciative appraisal. 

“And what about these leaves? They’re hardly going to rake themselves,” I say, sweeping an arm out to gesture at the orange and red-hued leaves which carpet the grass.

He moves his focus to the piles, a glint sparking so brightly in his eyes that I’m surprised it doesn’t set the leaves alight. “We could put them to another use.”

“And just what exactly—Oof!” We land together with a soft whoomph, Mason’s body pressed on top of mine. His fingers play at the edge of my shirt, and I think the heat really will set the leaves on fire now.

His lips set to work on my neck, apparently his mouth having other uses than flirtatious banter now. Which I agree with, as his kisses—slow but deep—press against my skin. I let out an eager moan. 

My fingers curl into his hair, tugging his head up so as my lips can find his. When he makes to pull away, I grip the leather cord about his neck, the crystal he wears oddly warm against the palm of my hand. 

“You know we’re just going to make more work for ourselves?” I ask, my voice hoarse.

He smiles, the expression already sending a throb of warmth between my legs. “If that’s all you’re thinking about right now, then I think I need to work harder.”

I bite at my lip as he begins to slide down my body, lifting my clothing to plant kisses over my stomach as he goes.

My hands flail about in the leaves, sending my neat piles skittering about around us as I try to find something to grip hold of. 

When Mason does work…he really works hard.