Becoming Owen

Warning! This chapter is the epilogue to a multi-part story I wrote a year ago. I wanted to know what had happened to the characters and this is the culmination of their adventures. If you haven’t read any of the earlier episodes, this probably isn’t the place to start. If you’re curious about how men fall in love through BDSM then give it a go, but maybe start a few chapters back. This chapter brings back most of the characters from the story so it may not much sense if you start here.

A Retrospective

Owen awoke early. He was lying on a pile of big cushions, snug under a warm blanket, on the floor beside Adam’s bed. It was a compromise they had agreed upon. Adam usually wanted the bed to himself but Owen hated to be banished to the guest room. He was spending more and more time in Adam’s apartment and he wanted to be close to him as much as he could. It had been Owen’s suggestion to sleep like this, and Adam permitted it more often than not. Owen suspected that Adam found these protocols trivial. But he loved the feeling of submissiveness it gave him, especially when Adam woke in the night and demanded service.

This night, however, Owen had heard Adam sleeping fitfully and he had ached to go to him. He knew that Adam had been working on something, but he knew as well not to ask about it. Last night Adam had come home late, tossed his coat onto a chair and disappeared into his study. Owen had picked up the coat and cradled it in his arms as if it were Adam himself, burying his face in it to breathe in the traces of Adam’s scent. Then he had carefully brushed the coat down and hung it in the closet.

This morning Adam seemed to be sleeping more easily, and Owen was glad. He listened intently to Adam’s regular breathing, waiting for the first signs that he was waking. To his delight, the sounds of Adam yawning and stretching came with the command “Get up here, boy!” He eagerly scrambled up on the bed, ready to serve, and found himself pulled backwards against Adam’s chest and locked into the crook of his elbow.

As Adam’s arm clamped round his neck, Owen tilted his head back to looked up into his face. Adam’s eyes were black and his expression was impassive. Owen was always a little afraid when Adam was in this mood, but his cocked twitched with the currents of nervous energy that arose in him. He felt the arm tighten round his throat. He could smell the intoxicating scent of Adam’s armpits. He fixed his eyes on Adam’s as the tendrils of darkness began snaking into his brain and his dick grew hard. He heard the blood singing in his veins. He felt it pumping into his cock. He was aware he wasn’t breathing but there was no fear, just the sense that he was floating into another space and that Adam was in control of him. Then his head cleared and Adam was smiling down at him and kissing him with his arms wrapped around him. He drew deep breaths.

“Bring me my coffee, boy,” Adam said, “You know what I like.”

Owen did know. And he made a detour to the bathroom because he knew that Adam especially liked his ass in the morning. He returned with Adam’s coffee. Adam was sitting up in bed with his phone, pretending to working on the day’s emails, but Owen wasn’t fooled. The sheet across his lap was conspicuously tented.

Owen set the coffee next to Adam and waited while he took his first mouthful, enjoying the wave of pleasure that passed over Adam’s face. Adam put the cup down and looked hard at his boy. His head inclined towards his groin and Owen needed no further encouragement. He jumped eagerly only the bed and respectfully drew the sheet down to reveal Adam’s swelling cock.

Adam put his phone down. “You want your Master’s cock? Please me!”

Owen took great pride that he knew the rugged landscape of Adam’s crotch better than Adam did himself. He knew pattern of the hair and the path that big vein took as it curled up from the base of the cock. He knew exactly where the tip of Adam’s glans would be as his dick rode high above Owen’s head when all Owen’s attentions were concentrated on Adam’s balls.

This was where Adam liked him to begin and Owen was skilled in what Adam had taught him. First, he used his tongue in long, slow licks until Adam’s nuts were glistening with saliva. Then he nibbled seductively on the sac until he was satisfied by the moans of pleasure from above him. Finally, he took each precious ball in his mouth, closing his eyes to savor their rounded fullness, and alternated sucking and swirling them with his tongue.

The heady smell of Adam’s morning musk and the rasp of his pubic hair against his face excited Owen. Daringly, he sucked harder, pulling one of Adam’s balls away from his body. He listened carefully until he heard Adam draw in a sharp breath as he felt the edge of pain, and then sucked gently again, happy that he could give Adam something of the sensation he loved so much himself. He started to stretch the other ball when Adam growled a warning and he relaxed his mouth, laving the full, taught roundness with his tongue until Adam could take no more and ordered him onto the shaft.

Owen drew in a deep breath and plunged his mouth down hard onto the stiff cock. There was something different about this morning. He could sense a new intensity and perhaps a need in Adam’s sexual desire for him. He wanted more than anything to give Adam what he needed. He opened his throat and concentrated hard on his task. He soon had his nose pressed up against Adam’s pelvis and pulled up only as he choked for breath. He pleased Adam with everything he had—his tongue, his lips, his hands, his throat all working to worship Adam’s magnificent cock. He moaned happily as he tasted pre-cum. He milked the head with his throat. He was ready to drown in the sweetness of Adam’s essence.

But Adam had other ideas. “Take my dick in your ass, boy,” he commanded. “Ride me!”

Owen scrambled to obey. He loved to serve Adam in this way. It was always a challenge to take Adam’s big cock first thing in the morning, but Owen enjoyed it. He positioned himself carefully, reaching back to hold the thick rod steady as he embraced it with his cunt-lips. He knew Adam could thrust up into him at any moment, as was his right. But Adam would be gracious, and would remain still until Owen had sunk all the way down the hard shaft.

He went slow, wanting to feel each inch in turn of the iron cock as it spread his passage open with the inevitable force of a drill. His breath was shallow with the pain and Adam put a hand on his chest to allow him to pause and adjust. At the moment the hand withdrew, Owen sat back down on the stiff dick with a little cry of pleasure and satisfaction that Adam was so completely inside him. Then Adam’s hips began to drive his dick relentlessly up into Owen’s hole and Owen felt the joy of his ass gradually opening to take his man as the pain retreated. They rose and fell together with Adam’s violent thrusts. Adam gripped his hips and used them to slam Owen down onto his cock as Owen begged for it again and again like a dog fetching a ball. He wanted to be completely filled with Adam’s dick, to submit to whatever Adam wanted, to take it to the breaking point.

Owen felt a spasm run through Adam and looked into his face to see where he wanted to bestow his cum. Anywhere was good for Owen but he particularly loved to be bred by Adam, and this morning he was in luck. Adam let out a long groan and shot spasm after spasm of cum deep into Owen’s ass. Owen waited until the last ripple of orgasm had passed through Adam’s hips, and respectfully pulled himself off to clean his Master’s cock with his mouth. But Adam had other ideas.

“Get up here. It’s Boy Appreciation Morning!” Adam pulled him up by his black leather play collar and, to Owen’s delight, bent over him to take his cock in his mouth.  This was a rare privilege for Owen. He could barely contain himself and Adam edged him a few times as a punishment until at the merest touch of Adam’s tongue on his dick he shot a creamy, white load.

Adam pulled away just in time. “There are limits, you know, Owen,” he remarked. He scooped up the cum that had ended up on Owen’s stomach and fed it back to the boy. He smiled at the eagerness with which Owen made sure to clean each one of his fingers.

“My coffee’s cold. Go make me a fresh one. In fact you can make breakfast for us both—off you go.”

Owen danced out of the bedroom. He loved to cook for Adam and Adam hardly ever let him. Adam lay back on the pillows and let his mind relax. The fuck and Owen’s joyful pleasure in it had cleared his thoughts of some of the uncertainties he had felt in the last few months.

Adam had been working closely with a gallery in the city to organise a retrospective of Seth Bergman’s work. Adam didn’t talk to Owen about Seth, but Owen knew that they had loved each other and that Seth had died. He has once looked up Seth on the internet and read about his almost mythic status as the greatest young painter of his generation. He had quickly closed the browser. He didn’t want to be compared with Seth.

Adam still owned the body of Seth’s paintings but he didn’t discuss them with Owen. Owen knew that Adam was working on something related to Seth.  He found it painful that Adam didn’t share that with him, and Adam knew that.

In the months that had passed, Adam had pushed Seth to the back of his mind. His new love for Owen, and Owen’s happiness and brightness, had made it difficult to think about the complex, dark and difficult Seth whom he had loved with all his heart. But he was still surrounded by Seth’s art—it hung on the walls of his apartment and his office, and it hung in his mind as a daily reminder of his lost love.

Finally he knew what to do. As soon as he put out word that he was selling the paintings, he was inundated with requests from buyers and galleries. Very few new Bergmans had been seen since Seth’s death and the Art world was buzzing with the news. In the end, Adam decided to donate many of them of them to the Art Museum, and sell the others to create a fund to put Owen through law school. The two paintings that hung in his living room he would keep, and they would remain part of him every day. But the dark hoarding of Seth in his study was over.

On a day when Owen was working late, Adam arranged to have the paintings transported to the gallery he had chosen for the exhibition. Most of the New York dealers had made it known they would be glad to host a Seth Bergman retrospective, but Adam wanted it to be in their own city, where Seth had lived and worked, and he had chosen a new gallery, run by a young gay couple, in one of the less fashionable parts of town. He had also insisted that the opening be on New Year’s Eve.

The rest of the day kept Adam on the phone to make sure everything was ready for the opening. Owen watched him nervously, not knowing what to expect. He dressed carefully and made sure that Adam’s clothes were pressed and laid out for him.

At last Adam was done with his preparations.  He closed his laptop and summoned Owen to him.

“Owen, before we go out, I have something for you. Wait there.”

Adam went back into his study leaving the door open. Owen was astonished at the change from the time he had guiltily intruded into Adam’s lair. Now the walls, which had been covered with Seth’s paintings, were bare and freshly painted in light colors. The drapes, long closed to protect the paintings from the sun, were opened and the sun flooded in through the window.

Adam returned holding a wooden box. Owen went cold as he recognized the exquisitely inlaid box in which Adam had kept Seth’s collar. He remembered the terrible rift that had opened up between them when he had lifted the lid. But Adam was smiling:

“It’s OK,  Owen. The study isn’t a shrine any more. I have something for you.”

Adam opened the box. Inside lay a chain collar of intertwined gold and silver. The clasp was made from the Greek letters Α and Ω -- their initials. Owen stared at it. It was the loveliest thing he had ever seen. He looked at the delicate fastening. He couldn’t believe that this was for him. He started at it, not knowing if he could take it.

“Don’t you like it?” For the first time since they had met, Owen heard fear in Adam’s voice. He threw his arms round him.

“It’s just gorgeous. I love it, Adam. Thank you so much.”

He sank to his knees and looked up at Adam as the collar was fastened round his neck.

“I want you to wear it tonight, Owen,” Adam said.

“Of course I will. I’m never going to take it off! Where are we going?”

“Come into the kitchen, and we’ll talk.”

Adam’s kitchen was a neutral space where Adam had introduced him to BDSM all those months ago. Owen’s mind slipped back to that moment when he, quivering with trepidation and desire, had sat at the table while Adam ran through everything he most craved. He remembered that evening that he had wanted and feared was laid before him.

Adam sat next to him. “Owen, you’ve seen what I am. What I need.” He paused. This was a difficult thing for him. “I find that I can’t be without you.”

It sounded oddly formal. Owen put his hand on Adam’s to reassure him that this was what he wanted too.

“I’ve made some arrangements. Financially, I mean. I want you to go to Law School, if that’s what you want, of course. You’ve become your own man, Owen. I want you to have what you want.”

The pause lasted only a split second. Then Owen wrapped his arms round Adam’s waist and said “I want you, Adam. I want you to put me in my place—to give me my place. My place is where you tell me to be.” His head was in Adam’s lap and his voice was muffled.

Owen’s submission welled up in Adam in a great wave that almost overpowered him. He held him for a long time. Then they went out together to the opening of Seth Bergman: A Retrospective.

The gallery was already filling up when they arrived. Adam’s favorite bar was taking care of the catering, and Michael had, of course, gotten himself employed as a waiter. He circled round the men with a tray of champagne trying to flirt as conspicuously as he could get away with. Owen watched him. Michael was strikingly handsome with chiselled cheekbones and dark, seductive eyes. Owen thought he had seen him before but he couldn’t remember where. He took a glass of champagne.

Owen’s mom had come early, unsure of what she had been invited to. Owen was torn between happiness that she had come to support him, and embarrassment that she was already interrogating Adam about his intentions. She was a resolute Irish Catholic with some set opinions about marriage. But she had quickly come round to the view that marriage between two men was perfectly fine as any marriage was better than nothing.

Mrs Dillon was beginning to interrogate a startled Adam on this subject when Patrick and Colin came over. Patrick introduced himself and she was delighted to discover he had been born in Ireland. Patrick and Colin took an arm each and escorted her to look at the paintings. Owen laughed with relief as he heard his mom asking Patrick if he was one of the Butlers of County Kilkenny and saw Patrick getting drawn into his mom’s favorite topic of conversation.

 Owen was delighted that the both senior partners from his law firm, Lombardi and Hecht, had come. Paul and Alice Lombardi came over at once to Owen. Mr Lombardi shook his hand warmly and said, “Congratulations, Owen. You and Adam have put together a wonderful show.” Owen was about to correct him—he had had nothing to do with the exhibition—but he stopped himself and thanked his boss. Amelia Hecht and her girlfriend, a glacially beautiful woman Owen had never seen before, glided round the room.

Jacob and Robbie were among the first to arrive. They were wearing leather that would have matched perfectly, except for the heavy studded collar round Robbie’s neck which turned a few heads. They both rushed up to Owen and hugged him warmly.

“It’s been a long time coming, Owen,” Robbie said. “Adam has lived with these for too long. He needed to let them go.”

Jacob pulled Owen into him. “He has you now. And Owen, we’re hoping to have you too soon. I’ll speak to Adam. You’d make a very fine centerpiece for a party we’re planning.”

“Very fine,” Robbie echoed and brushed his hand over the front of Owen’s pants. Owen looked nervously at Jacob.

“Stop that, Robbie!” He smiled at Owen. “I’m far too indulgent with him. I’m sure Adam doesn’t let you get away with that kind of thing.”

 “I’d like that, Sir, thank you!” Owen had already been used more than once by Adam and Jacob together. Down on his hands and knees with one cock up his ass and the other down his throat, he had loved it. The past year had held many new experiences for him.

Somewhat to Adam’s surprise, Mark Emerson had accepted the invitation to the opening and came into the gallery with his sub Philip walking respectfully two paces behind him. They were both beautifully-dressed. If you didn’t know it was there, you would not have notice the curve of Philip’s chain collar beneath his shirt. Adam and Mark shook hands coolly and Mark quickly went to look at the paintings. He was eager to add to his own collection of Seth Bergman and was soon deep in negotiation with the owners of the gallery.

Owen struggled with the sight of a fully-dressed Philip. The last time they had met—that terrible day when Mark had tried to take him from Adam—he had been naked and wearing only a heavy chain collar. Now he was dressed smartly in an expensive suit. Philip came up to where Owen stood in front of a wall of paintings and

“An extraordinary artist, don’t you think?” Phillip asked. Owen glanced at him suspiciously, but Philip was looking hard at the painting they stood before. This one was different from the abstract canvas that made up the bulk of the exhibition. As Owen looked at it, the violent lines and brush-strokes started to form into a face, the mouth seemed pulled back in a cruel smile, but the eyes that stared out directly seemed full of pain.

“Do you know who that is?” Philip asked?

Owen looked down at the label. It read simply: “Portrait of a Man.” But he already knew who it was.

“It’s Seth’s portrait of Adam,” Philip said.

Owen looked away. There was a tiny mark by the painting’s label to show that it had already been purchased. He was glad.

“I don’t much about art,” he said to Philip. “But I don’t really like that one.”

“I don’t care for any of it.” Philip’s tone was conspiratorial. “I have a much better idea.” He took Owen’s arm and whispered in his ear: “I want to suck your cock.”

Dazed, Owen allowed Philip to draw him away from the crowd and into the men’s room at the back of the gallery. Philip kicked the door shut and dropped to his knees. Owen stood awkwardly. No one had ever submitted to him like this before. He heard Philip ask: “May I service you?” and he heard another voice—his own—say. “Pull it out.” And then, more firmly, “Suck it!”

Owen closed his eyes. He felt Philip unzip him and the delicious sensation of a wet tongue circling his cockhead. He leaned back against the door of the stall as Philip began to service him. He opened his eyes and took in the sleazy setting of the restroom stall, the sight of Philip’s head moving on his cock, and the smell of his own excited sweat. He had never had a blowjob like this. Philip was ridiculously skilful. One hand was doing something immeasurable pleasurable to Owen’s nuts and his tongue was teasing the slit of Owen’s head while the other hand took a grip of the base of his cock.

It was nearly too much for Owen. He wanted this to last. He remembered what Adam liked.

“Slow down.” He tried to make his voice sound authoritative. “Use your mouth on my nuts.” He grabbed his own dick and lifted it as Philip obediently circled one ball with his mouth, respectfully laving it. “That’s right. Now the other.” Owen was getting into the moment. “Use your tongue.” And then he heard himself say again, “I told you to use your tongue, bitch.”

Instantly Owen felt Philip’s tongue working the testicle already in his mouth. “You can fit both of them in there!” he ordered. He heard a little muffled squeak from Philip that sounded like pleasure. Philip carefully took both his balls in his hand and stretched his mouth across them.  

Owen was rock hard and he pulled Philip’s head back onto his dick. His cock was immediately down Philip’s throat and enthusiastic slurping sounds were filling the stall.  He felt his balls tighten.

“Oh fuck, I’m gonna come!”

He heard Philip say, “please give me your cum, Sir” and he let go his second stream of thick cum that day into Philip’s open mouth.

Owen leaned back as the walls of the stall came back into focus.  He looked down to see Philip take out a monogrammed handkerchief to wipe away a fleck of cum on his shirt collar. 

“Leave it!” Owen somehow felt that his was the right thing to say.

“Yes, Sir.”  Philip calmly returned the handkerchief to his pocket, adjusted his clothes, and respectfully backed out of the stall. Owen fastened his pants and followed him out.  He checked himself in the mirror.  He guessed he looked OK.  Quite normal really.  Maybe Adam wouldn’t notice. As he left the men’s room, Michael the waiter sidled up to him with a tray of drinks.  Owen put out a hand, and Michael moved the tray round slightly.

“I think you might prefer this one, sir.” He said.  Owen picked up the proffered glass and the slip of paper underneath it.  It was a phone number.  He looked back at Michael, who ran his tongue almost imperceptibly over his lips before melting back into the crowd.

Adam was deep in conversation with the Director of the Art Museum and seemed oblivious to what had gone on in the men’s room.  He caught sight of Owen and beckoned him over.

“There you are, Owen.  We’re just about to have the official opening.”

Elena Rostov, the opera star, had agreed to say a few words.  The room fell silent as she moved into the center on the arm of her husband Nicky.  The scene flashed on Owen’s mind of the evening he had seen Nicky in a metal collar, with a gag in his mouth, receiving Adam’s whip.

Elena spoke warmly about Adam and the unique event at which they were present.  The moment she finished, she was surrounded by a flurry of gay men who appeared to know in great detail her every performance.  

A look of tiredness swept across Adam’s face and Nicky said, “Elena and I have a table at Ostereria. You look all in, Adam. Let our driver take you and Owen home.” Adam agreed.  He felt that he had done all that he could.  The evening had helped him said goodbye to Seth, and how he wanted to be alone with Owen.  He took advantage of the fact that Elena was still the center of attention, and they slipped out of the gallery.

Adam was quiet on the ride home but back at his apartment he was ready to enjoy his boy.

“Get that ass ready. I want you on your knees and waiting for me in the playroom.

When he was certain that Owen was in the shower, Adam walked across to the two paintings that still hung on the living room wall. He put his finger to the bottom right corner and slowly traced the “S. B.” in hard black paint. For a moment his eyes filled with tears. Then he smiled, and turned away to find Owen.

Adam entered the playroom to the familiar sight of Owen, naked except for the jockstrap that was Adam’s favorite, on his knees with his legs apart and his eyes on the ground. He was filled with love for Owen and his beautiful act of submission. He went over to him and tipped up his head with a finger beneath his chin.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes, Sir!”

“For what?”

Owen thought of all the things he enjoyed with Adam. He just said, “For you.”

“All right.” Adam restrained Owen as he knelt with wrist-to-thigh cuffs. “You better stay upright!” He walked round him appraisingly, then added a blindfold.

Owen knelt, every nerve tingling, waiting for the touch of a crop or a whip. But instead, Adam said.

“Whose cum was that on Philip’s shirt collar?”

Owen froze for a moment. He felt the sting of a cane on his buttocks.

“Mine, Sir.”

A sharper pain. “How did it get there?”

Owen recited his confession. How Philip had lead him to the rest-room and knelt down.

“He lead you there?” The cane again.

“I went.”

“Better”

“He took out my cock,” A sharper slash this time that made Owen cry out.

“I mean ....” Owen corrected himself this time. “I told him to suck my cock.”

“Good. Go on.”

Owen spoke in a kind of incantation, punctuated by the cane. It hurt, but he was completely trusting. It felt good to tell Adam what had happened, allowing him into his mind as well as his body.

“I told him to suck my nuts. I told him to do to me what I do to you. What I know you like. I wanted what you want.”

He heard the quiet sound of the cane dropping to the floor. Now Adam was kneeling behind him. He took in a deep draft of Adam’s smell and leaned back against his chest. Adam had taken off his shirt and Owen felt as if he could feel every muscle and every hair individually.

“I didn’t tell you to stop.” Adam’s hand was inside his jock and on his balls. Tightening.

“I came on his face.”

“So I saw.” Adam’s grip was now twisting his balls hard. He cried out. He was aware of the pain in his balls and the wonderful pressure of Adam’s hard cock against his ass.

“Aaah … please … I told him to leave it …”

“Why?” Adam’s voice was harder, and Owen yelped as his balls were squeezed in a vise-like grip.

“Because I was proud of myself.”

The pressure on his balls suddenly relaxed and as the endorphins began to flow he felt Adam kiss the back of his neck.

“Good boy.” Adam help him for a moment, and then his mood changed. He pulled off the blindfold and lifted Owen to his feet.

“Well, seeing that you’re now all grown up and a Dom and everything, let’s see how you take this.”

Adam had upped the pace and he quickly unbuckled Owen’s wrists from his thighs and pulled him over the Saint Andrew’s cross and spread him out on it.

“You ready?”

Owen didn’t know what to be ready before, but he had caught Adam’s sense of urgency. The blood was singing in his ears and all his senses were alive.

“Yes, Sir.” He heard the air move as something cut through it. It landed on his back. The touch was somehow gentle and severe at the same time. A single-tail whip. He let his head drop down and opened up his back to it.

Adam held back for a moment. The gesture of Owen giving his back to the whip was beautiful and intensely arousing. He took a step back to get the perfect distance and laid the whip on again. Each stroke left a livid red mark on Owen’s back. He whimpered a little and shuddered at the touch. It made Adam’s dick hard. Shots of joy and arousal coursed through his blood. He reveled in the energy that was coiled between his driven sexual need and the precision with which he could control the strokes. The way Owen’s shoulder muscles flexed as he received the whip thrilled him.

Owen’s whimpers turned into a high, prolonged moan that Adam recognized as the sign that he was floating somewhere high on pain and the rush of endorphins. He dropped the whip to check on his boy and ran his hands gently over the lacerated back. He bent down to salve with his mouth the wounds on Owen’s ass, tracing each red line with his tongue. He felt a little heady after the intensity of the day. He realized how much he adored Owen’s beautiful, broad ass. He bit into it as Owen was making noises of some kind. 

"More ... please  .... more, Sir."

“More?” Adam chuckled softly. “Don’t be greedy, boy, we have plenty of time. We have eternity. And I need this sexy ass of yours.”

He undid the wrist restraints that held up Owen’s arms and caught the boy as he fell into his own arms. He took Owen into the bedroom and kicked away the cushions that Owen had slept on last night. They wouldn’t be needing them anymore. He helped Owen into bed and slid in behind him.

He licked and kissed the welts on Owen’s back, and ran his fingers over the collar that bound them together. He stroked his fingers in and out of Owen’s soft, buttery ass and stroked his prostate to make him moan with pleasure. Then he slid into Owen’s ass and began to fuck him slowly. Owen shuffled his hips back to get as close as he could as he felt Adam’s cock growing inside him.

“You’re mine, boy. You’re mine here.” He reached round to stroke Owen’s cock. “And here.” He thrust hard into Owen’s ass. “And here,” he pulled Owen’s collar back to exert the smallest of pressures on Owen’s throat. “And here.” He laid a finger on Owen’s temple. “I love you here, Owen.”

Owen was mumbling something unintelligent that sounded like “Thank you, Sir.” He had never felt so happy in his life. Adam had taken him and he was completely owned. He felt Adam’s thrusts lessen and then stop. He realized that Adam had fallen asleep with his still-hard cock in his ass. He wanted to laugh with the joy and contentment of it all. But then he was asleep too.

Owen woke once to hear Adam snoring gently next to him. He put his hand to his neck to feel his collar. He saw a thin shaft of winter morning light stealing through the drapes before he drifted back to sleep.

It was New Year’s Day.