Missionary Positions

"Are you really?" Greg asked critically, staring as the other man wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Yes," Jason answered. He pushed himself up, right hand on the edge of their bathtub but his knees buckled until Greg reached for him to support his weight. "I- I can walk."

"I've got you, come on," Greg told him, wrapping his arm around Jason's side to help him walk.

Jason found himself leaning into the other man while trying to match his longer stride as they walked into their shared bedroom. He knew his companion was strong but he seemed to be bearing his entire weight without effort. Greg helped Jason sit before kneeling to undo his shoelaces.

"I can do that," Jason told him.

"Yeah, probably," Greg said. "I'll get your shoes and socks. You get everything else and just rest. Your face is pale. And if you don't want to go to the hospital, you need to rest."

When his feet were bare, Greg tossed the socks into a nearby hamper while laying the shoes by the front door. Jason's fingers shook slightly when he pulled the loose knot for his tie but they steadied gradually as he undid his shirt buttons. He folded the shirt to place it with the tie on the table by his narrow bed. When he finished, Greg walked in with a small cup and a bowl.

"Mouth wash," Greg announced. "To help get the taste out of your mouth."

Jason felt a pang of something when he took the cup to gargle. It wasn't just gratitude but something else - something deeper. He prodded at the feeling, wondering at exactly what it was but he faltered, settling for a fondness for the other man and his attention but it was different than that. He spat into the bowl carefully with a quiet 'thank you'. Greg walked away leaving Jason to undo his zipper, working the pants over his hips until he sat in his underwear, folding the slacks slowly in order to keep his stomach settled. He could feel himself shivering just before more sweat formed on his bare skin.

Greg reappeared in the bedroom carrying one of their dining room chairs in one hand and a large, sloshing basin in the other with a towel draped over his forearm. An empty bucket dangled from a handle held in the same hand supporting the basin. He set the large bowl down on the floor next to Jason's bed with the chair beside it and the bucket near the head of the bed.

"You d- d- don't have t- to," Jason stuttered while shaking.

"It's okay," Greg told him quietly, wetting the towel before wiping Jason's face. "Just rest."

"Th- th- th-" Jason tried to say before jackknifing with a gasp.

The cold water soothed Jason's aching, hot face as a fever dragged him under. He was aware of his surroundings only in small slices of time. Greg was nearly always at his side as Jason trashed and moaned in bed but mostly he slept fitfully.

Red dreams filled Jason's mind, in between the periods when he was awake. Black chains held him down, twining over his chest and arms and legs. He tried to pull out of them, to throw them away but they were heavy and growing heavier, holding him in place. Wearing him down. Steel against his bare flesh.

Binding him.

Brands joined the imagery. He gasped and muttered and twisted, tensing when he was sure they would press into him, blistering his skin while he was restrained. Yellow hot metal with the persistent red haze surrounding him and obsidian chains stretching him out, pulling his legs apart and his arms out to his side.

Jason's fever broke in the middle of the night. He settled with a sigh while his eyelids fluttered to show his sclera before his muscles relaxed. Greg watched him for a while, his jaw cracking from a wide yawn. When he was sure his companion had finally settled, he stood and stretched and put everything away. He checked on Jason a few times while getting ready for bed. Sleep came quickly for him, peaceful and deep.

Blood coursed through Jason's body while he slept, rushing to his scalp and the roots of his hair. They fed off of the excess to create more cells. His short, well trimmed dark brown hair lengthened gradually. Gravity pulled the strands down until they touched his pillow.

The soft glow of morning light through the apartment window shades bathed the room in an unearthly radiance. Jason moaned while his eyes fluttered and he woke. His blanket dragged against his shirt and he gasped at its touch. Goosebumps rose over his body before a thrilling invisible finger traced down his nape and spine. The tips of his hair hung barely an inch away from his shoulder, luxurious thick and mocha colored. His hair continued to grow at a glacial pace.

He lifted his head as if to sit up until she looked down his body to see the bulge of his erection, a half second before he felt the echo of his heart beat in the shaft and tip. Instead of getting up, he stared at the ceiling above, searching for familiar patterns in the cheap popcorn texture in order to distract himself.

The shower ran from the bathroom. He listened to it for a while, imagining Greg and how disappointed his companion would be if he knew he'd become sexually excited. The anger and sharpness of his handsome face would be more than he could handle and the shame would be too great. Wrapped in his towel, fresh from the shower, hard muscles dotted with drops of water. No. He would already be dressed, as they always did when they finished their showers.

Jason's eyes twitched to the side. The erection wasn't calming down. If anything, it was harder and beginning to ache painfully. With a sigh and his eyes locked to the ceiling, he reached down beneath the covers to his underwear, and beneath in order to try to settle it in place. When his fingernails brushed against the head of his cock, he moaned, turning his head to hide the noise. His hips lifted briefly but he pulled his hand back while his chest rose and fell quickly.

What in the world was that? he asked himself.

He reached down again, careful to keep his hand away from the head of his penis. Instead, he gripped the shaft gently to try again to push it to the side and make it less evident. The motion pulled the skin down until he shifted it, pulling back up briefly. He moaned again, twisting his feet against the mattress beneath him. It wasn't nearly as intense as when he touched the head of his penis but it still felt better than any other time he'd touched himself when peeing or privately adjusting to be more comfortable.

And he was still hard. Aching now. Throbbing.

His hand pulled down on his penis and then up, pressing his circled fingers against the head. He gasped and when he exhaled, it was a breathy moan. Jason' cheeks burned as he stroked himself slowly, awkwardly, pulling down and up again.

He let go, instead running his fingers over the hard flesh while tilting his head back. It'd felt good in his hand but now he wanted to touch it, enjoying the thrill of his nails and fingers over the shaft and then up to the head once more. He hid his face, turning into the pillow and his longer hair slid against his strangely sensitive skin, making him moan louder.

It was such a wondrous alien feel, warm and hard but also soft. His mouth opened and his tongue rubbed against the back of his bottom lip while he breathed quickly. The wet, bulging skin gliding against his tongue mirrored the sensation of his fingertips against his penis, linking the responses together in his brain while he whimpered quietly.

Once more he closed his hand over his shaft, squeezing and moaning while lifting his chest. While he stroked himself slowly, he imagined his mental image before him, stroking him instead and the effect was jarring but strange erotic.

Jason's hand pumped his penis beneath his underwear while he licked his top lip. His eyes were closed, seeing at once a point-of-view of himself while at the same time, a dissociated view of himself kneeling and stroking a cock. He groaned as he felt pressure building along with the gradually increasing sensitivity. Pre cum welled from the tip before being absorbed by his underwear. He grunted, brushing the tip of his penis with his thumb on every upstroke until he paused to rub it and then continue the downstroke. Soon he found himself holding his shaft just beneath the head, stroking the tip between his fingers while barely tugging on the skin at all.

It was so close. He could feel a slight tightness in his guts as well as the pressure building to a crescendo and he desperately wanted to know what-

"Jason!"

Greg's shout startled Jason. He yanked his hand away, pulling it from his underwear and the covers.

"No!" Jason shouted in return, suddenly aware of the enormity of what he'd been doing. And still he felt the throbbing and the ache and his hand twitched to return.

"You know you're- How could you?" Greg snapped. The skin beneath his eyes was dark, a reminder of the vigilance he'd kept the night before.

Jason felt his stomach drop further. Tears formed at the corners of his eyes while a sudden headache strobed at his temples. He pulled his covers over his head while the tears streaked over his face.

"I'll have to tell the group leaders," Greg said firmly.

"You- you don't have to!" Jason said from beneath his blanket. He curled into a fetal position as if to physically protect himself. "I was just confused for- for a second. I slipped up but I know- I know- No. I- I know you have to. I know it's right. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for letting myself lapse."

He could smell himself. The scent of his sex, trapped beneath the blanket. The smell of his pre and the sweat from his exertion, gathered in the folds of his thighs. It was heady and he inhaled deeply despite the situation.

"It's good that you're sorry," Greg told him. "Just- I'll finish getting ready and then I'll call them."

Jason listened to his companion move around their apartment to finish getting dressed. Despite the shame, he was still hard. His hand clutched at his bare thigh. It was wrong but he'd been so close, so close to a release.

"If I hurry," he whispered, sliding fingers beneath his underwear once more. He held the head, swirling and rubbing with his thumb while moaning. His other hand slid against his chest, caressing and massaging his body. He could hear Greg quietly talking on the phone in the living room. "What- what am I doing?"

He closed his eyes and exhaled, pulling his hand free. Even then, he couldn't help but smell himself and wonder if all men smelled the same. If they felt-

Jason dragged himself out of bed and his hair trailed behind him until he sat up. The fat rolls that normally lined his belly were diminished, thinner than the day before. He brushed hair away from his eyes without thought before standing to dress himself, hurrying in order to make himself presentable for the group leaders. It would be just a phone call but being dressed in his daily clothes would help him focus and feel more comfortable.

His belt pulled two notches tighter than before. He was surprised at the change while wondering if his episode in front of the toilet could've made that much of a difference in that short a period of time. All the while, his longer hair swished back and forth against the collar of his button down shirt. He'd made sure to change into a different shirt until he could wash the blood from the sleeve.

With a quick glance at his cheap watch, Jason walked towards the bathroom. He reached down to squeeze his penis a few times without realizing what he was doing and he breathed out heavily when he rubbed the head briefly.

A knock on the apartment's front door interrupted Jason's thoughts. He frowned while staring at the front door before looking towards Greg.

Should I get that for him? He wondered, feeling an urge to repay his companion for the help in the night. But also because it felt right to do help. We aren't expecting anyone, though.

He breathed into his hand to smell his breath, wrinkling his nose at his morning breath while mentally thanking Greg once more for the mouthwash the night before.

Greg walked by just as Jason stepped out of the bedroom. He glanced at his companion, took two steps and then turned sharply with his brow furrowed.

"What-" Greg started to ask. His lips pressed together and he shook his head. The knocking sounded again, louder this time. "I'll see who it is."

Greg opened the door. Two group leaders stood at the threshold. They glanced at Greg before turning to look at Jason.

"Thomas? Chad?" Greg said, surprised to see the two group leaders in person. Jason wilted behind him while dread filled his stomach. "I thought- I left a message and thought you would call back."

"We thought it warranted coming in person," Thomas said. Of the pair, he stood slightly forward. He was bigger than Greg, taller with broader shoulders . His voice was grave, deep and serious to match his expression. Jason's stomach fluttered. It wasn't just anxiety but something else that felt vaguely uncomfortable but also warm and hungry.

"Sorry, please come in," Greg stood back to let the pair into the apartment before closing the door behind them.

"Thank you," Thomas said.

The group leaders walked in while staring at Jason. He swallowed and tried to smile but settled on looking sick to his stomach. The young man clenched his fingers together at his stomach before dropping them to his sides where they fidgeted. It was his first visit with the group leaders where his behavior was being called into question.

"Have a seat," Chad, a thinner brown haired young man said, gesturing at the lone wingback chair facing the couch. The group leaders sat together on the couch.

Their stare was intense and unsettling, leaving Jason feeling naked beneath their gaze. His heart pounded while his hands grew clammy. Worse, and more shameful, he could feel tears threatening to form while his head began to pound. Hormones mixed within his body, their levels varying by small, yet increasing increments that left his emotions raw.

"Why are we here, Jason?" Thomas asked.

"B- because I- I t- touched myself this morning," he answered, doing his best to keep his eyes level.

"No," Thomas told him sharply. "We're here because you were caught masturbating. Would we be here if you weren't caught?"

"I-" Jason started to say. He wiped at his eyes, disgusted at how upset he felt. "I would've said something. I know it's wrong."

"Before that," Chad said, glancing at Greg. "Why is your hair so long, Jason? We have rules covering grooming. Rules about appearance. You're flaunting them and I want to know how long you've been ignoring the rules, and why?"

"I don't understand," Jason said. He reached up to touch his hair. His eyes opened wide while his mouth dropped. Twisting in his seat, he ran his hands over his bangs and down the thick, luxurious locks of hair that touched his shoulders. His voice rose in panic. "This- this- this- this isn't possible!"

"It wasn't like this yesterday," Greg told the group leaders. "It was short, shorter than mine. Just last night."

"You're telling us to believe that his hair grew, what, a foot overnight?" Thomas asked. His face showed obvious disbelief.

"I swear it," Greg said. Where Jason trembled in the onslaught, Greg was resolute.

"Are you-" Chad said until the first group leader put his hand out slightly.

"We know who your family is, Greg," the man said. He adjusted his black tie, a slight sign of his own nervousness. "But, sin and temptation doesn't care about lineage. Anyone can be corrupted."

Thomas took a slow, deep breath while checking the knot on his tie once more. An internal struggle played over his face as he wrestled with a decision, weighing one path with another.

"Putting that aside, for now," Thomas said, returning his attention to Jason. "Are you willing to repent for your sin, Jason?"

"Yes!" Jason gasped, wiping his eyes again. He felt flushed as the hormones continued to course through his body and a strange prickling, scratching, tickling sensation dug into his guts. It teetered on the edge of uncomfortableness as he stilled himself to prevent himself from squirming.

"You know the consequences," Chad added in. "You must maintain your purity and morals throughout your life but even more so when you're proselytizing. We have to be a beacon of light for others, especially non-believers seeking His truth. If we fail, we're cast out of God's graces, eternally damned for betraying His trust. Being sent home in shame would be the least of your worries. Do you understand that?"

"I- I do!" Jason replied eagerly.

"Do you really, Jason?" Thomas asked, leaning forward.

Jason felt his heart race. The man was striking. His cold sternness only heightened the effect. Blue eyes that seemed to fade to pure white ice in the right light and angle with a sharp jaw and chin. The prickling sensation low in his body melted, seeping into his hips to warm him with a light tingling.

"I do, I really do. It was a momentary lapse," Jason pleaded. "But I've resisted it since then. Greg pulled me back. If- If anything, I'm stronger because of it. I know what the temptation is and how strong it can be. I know I can resist it."

"You're his companion, Greg," Thomas said. "If he fails, you both fall from grace. You'll both be reassigned to others or potentially sent home for disobedience if the situation warrants it. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Greg said. "I understand. I'll be stronger for his sake."

"Good," Thomas told them. You'll cut your hair immediately, Jason. We will check up on you every week during our weekly training meetings for next four months and then once a month for a year. Neither of you will get another warning."

"I understand, thank you," Jason answered as the two group leaders stood. "So you're allowing us to-"

"Yes, you have our permission to break sabbath to get a haircut," Thomas told him. "Not allowing you to do it; we're telling you to do it. And that's all."

Greg walked them out while Jason touched his hair. He held the strands in his hand while staring at the tips. The weight of all of it surprised him.

"How did that happen?" Greg asked when the group leaders were gone.

"I don't know!" Jason told him, dropping his hair.

Now that he was aware of it, he was aware of it as it touched his ears and cheek and neck. It was silky and soft and he would never admit to Greg that he liked the way it felt against him. He told himself it was because he knew now what it felt like to touch a woman's hair but it was more than that, even if he refused to recognize the fact. A small, nearly silent part of him was sad at the idea of cutting it all.

"Is it drugs? Tell me it's not drugs," Greg demanded. He reached out without asking to touch Jason's hair as if not believing it was real. His fingers slipped through until he pressed them together, pulling the other man's head back.

"Ah!" Jason gasped. The pain was not altogether unpleasant. "No! No drugs. You can search me and the room all you want. What kind of drug would even do that? Grow hair overnight?"

"I don't know," Greg said quietly. He let the hair fall from his fingers before stepping back with a frown and his arms crossed.

They stared at each other in silence. Seconds passed. Jason felt himself grow uncomfortable but also self-conscious. When he could no longer withstand the look in Greg's eyes, he blushed and looked down. His hair slid forward, brushing against his cheeks and eyes until he brushed it back.

"I'm not going to fail because of you," Greg said. "Don't do this to me. If we're sent home, my parents will just pay for me to go back out but the mark will be there against me. For my family and the community. Look me in the eye and tell me you won't do that again."