“I’m wearing a condom,” Mark pointed out.
“I know.” I snuggled against him. “I’m just not used to this, okay?”
“It’s the ‘ick factor’.”
“What’s that?”
“Some guys have that response. It’ll go away. I’ll show you how nice it is, and how loving it is. The ick factor will go away. Trust me, babe.”
We sat like that for a long time. His cock never completely deflated against my hip—he probably could have slipped in my hole the way we were sitting.
I regrouped and bit down on my discomfort. I squeezed my cheeks and pressed against his cock. “Do it, babe,” I commanded.
“What?” He gently touched my side.
“Finish it. I want you to go all the way.”
“That’s enough for one night.”
“Shut up!” I said heatedly. “I’m loose. I can feel your cock. Do what we came here to do. Finish it.”
“You’re sexy when you’re angry,” Mark said gently. “But I think that’s far enough for one night.”
“Mark! Shit. Do I have to do everything myself? I can feel you getting hard. Slide right on up there. I know you want to.” I felt like crying. Just do it already! I changed my voice to a slutty, husky tone. “Is this what you want, big boy?”
“Stop it,” Mark growled, grabbing my arm tightly so that it hurt. “Don’t do that. It isn’t funny.” He nipped at my neck. “Just be you. I love you. I’m not going in like this. You need to see my face.”
Mark flipped me on my back. He put more lube on his cock. “I’m not going to touch you with my hands. I’m not going... am I allowed to kiss you?”
“Quit talking! Just do it already!”
“Okay. God, you’re always in control.”
Me? Who's the one about to stick their stick up my butt! Ah!
He slid all the way in with one fluid motion. There wasn’t as much resistance as there had been earlier, nor as much pain... Mark was right about that. It wasn’t the most pleasurable thing in the world... but I guess I could do it again. As long as his fingers didn’t touch me.
Yuck. Poop. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it.
I winced. “I love you,” I gasped.
“Love you, too.”
I tried to reach him with my mouth, but I was pinned down. His mouth sought mine and we kissed frantically. He never did thrust into me. “Ah!” I cried. I touched him and clung like I was a clingy boyfriend about to watch his partner get shuttled into space to destroy a potentially earth-crushing asteroid.
“I love you, Mark.” That was the most expressive I had been all night. I had just lain on the bed the first time he was in me.
We kissed again and fought for air.
“Ah fuck!” Mark exclaimed. His body automatically pumped against me. “Fuck!” he yelled angrily. “Babe, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. Ah shit.”
“What?”
“You’ve got me on a hair-trigger over here. And you’re so fucking tight. Shit. I’m sorry.”
For... going off early? Lol. The quicker the better.
“Fuck. You were moving around. You were like an animal with your kisses.”
“I like kisses. I like that you’re bigger than me.”
Mark slid out of me. “Bigger all the way around,” he smirked.
“Whatever.” Why was that important? “I mean... if I did... if it was the other way around—” My mind short-circuited as thoughts of me being in the top position clouded my awareness... sticking my thing in his poop house. Ick. “—I wouldn’t be able to kiss you. I’m too short.”
“Do you want to do it the other way?” He touched me and I flinched. “Sorry. No touching. I’ll get cleaned up.”
“No. Let’s stay here. I’m so tired. It’s fucking late.” I blinked and sighed, then sank into the sheets. “We can be messy for one night.”
“Uh...” Mark stammered. “It’s going to start leaking out of you.”
“What? Oh, that’s disgusting.” I shrugged it off. “We’ll have to change the sheets in the morning.”
Mark took a dramatic breath. “No... I mean. I shot into you...”
I realize that.
“Uh... without a condom.” Mark looked ashamed.
“AH!” AHhhhh!
“I’m sorry, babe—”
“SORRY!” I blinked, but my eyes wouldn’t open after I shut them. Sorry? “Fuck were you.... What the...”
“Babe, I’m—”
“Don’t call me ‘babe’. You know I hate that.” My eyebrows fought to merge into one long caterpillar. I felt like a wasp, ready to lash out.
“Ba—” His voice died. “Chris. I got tested when we got together. I’m clean. I haven’t been with anyone else.”
“So it’s okay because you don’t have an STD? Shit! It’s not like I’ve ever been tested! Did you ever think to ask me?”
“You haven’t been tested?”
“No! I mean, probably before they diagnosed my autoimmune disorder and didn’t know what was going on. But no. I’ve never had it done.”
“Everyone gets tested! I get tested once a month!”
“Not me! I don’t have sex! You know that!”
Mark guffawed.
“You probably have more sex in a week than I’ve had in my life.”
“Not lately,” he said out of the side of his mouth. It was a sly grumble, intended to diffuse the situation. I slapped him playfully even as he was smiling.
“This isn’t funny. This is really serious. I can’t even process what just happened.” I was incredulous at what he had revealed, and worse, I had a laugh stuck in my throat. It was so cruel that it was funny—and it was so totally Mark—a true Mark Special.
“Well. Here’s what happened. First, I fucked you.” No shit. “Second, the cum will be coming out of your ass. Third. I’m sorry about the condoms. We were cuddling, then you were ready to go... and I didn’t want to get one from the bathroom and then get back here and you’d be all clammed up.”
“So you thought with your dick!”
Mark stuttered. “Uh-uh-uh-uh. Yeah, I guess I did. You were so ready to go right then.” He wiped his face with his hand (the one that hadn’t been playing with my butt). “I don’t know what to say,” he said seriously. “I fucked up. Did I hurt you?” He shivered.
“Hey?” I questioned. “Are you okay?” Why is he traumatized? He isn’t the one that got fucked.
Mark tentatively touched me. “Can I hug you, babe?”
I nodded, uncertain.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Please don’t leave me. I try not to—”
“Hey, stop it. I’m not going to leave you. It wasn’t a big deal.”
“It wasn’t? I spend all my time pretending like I’m protecting you, but then it’s me that ends up hurting you. It’s going to be me that tears us apart, and it’s killing me.”
“Why? Why is it killing you?” It should be haunting me—not you. “I didn’t mind what we did—what just happened. It’s probably better that I wasn’t thinking about you not having a condom. We’re not doing that again... definitely not for a while. Now that I know it’s there, I can feel it in my ass.”
“You can not.”
“Can so.”
He sighed. “I try to hold back... but sometimes. I see you and I love you so much...”
“I know. You don’t have to apologize to me. I asked for this. I gave you the okay. If I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t be here.”
He touched my hair. “I don’t know,” he murmured. He sighed again. “Let’s get you cleaned up and let’s go to bed. God, I feel like shit.”
“Why?” I kissed him. “Mark? Babe? Don’t be like this. I gave the okay. I liked it.” It was a small lie.
He didn’t respond. He pried me out of bed and into the bathroom. We cleaned up and jumped in the guest bed.
The next morning I slept in later than Mark. He made me breakfast and we ate it in bed. He was ver
y attentive to me and wouldn’t let me leave the apartment. I barely got one day’s worth of work done. As a distraction, I told him to finish editing my romance novel, which he did. He took me to the gym at five, which was our normal schedule. He pushed me hard. He used the ropes that were attached to a hook in the floor—a new addition to our workouts. I had to pump them up and down with my arms and make waves. Mark made the exercise look so easy. When I did it, it was pathetic. Mark said this new routine was for ‘variation’.
The next day I had one of my down days. My body was weak. Mark stayed with me all day. He read to me from my current manuscript and I told him when to highlight things and what notes to make.
“I’m sorry I worked you so hard yesterday.”
“That wasn’t it. Just some days this happens. When it happens it happens.”
“But it’s happening so often now. Are you sure it’s not from your diet? I made you drink on Tuesday. And you didn’t sleep on your normal schedule.”
“Relax, dude.” I had to say ‘dude’ to make him comfortable. “You get to see me every day now. That means you get to see the good with the bad.”
“There isn’t any bad,” he stated.
“Don’t be so naïve. I’m in a grumpy mood and I don’t want to say anything mean, so let’s change the subject.”
“Okay. Can you get next weekend off?”
“Let me check my calendar.” I didn’t have to check anything. He knew I was self-employed and didn’t have a huge client list for tutoring. “Yes,” I grunted when he didn’t realize I was being sarcastic. “If it’s important, I can get the next weekend off.”
“How would you like to go camping with my brother? I’ve camped with his family a couple times... and it’s really lame. But I’d go with you if you want. It could be nice.”
“Hmm.... Is this regular person camping?”
“Yes. They have a big trailer with a shower and a kitchenette. Trust me, it’s just your kind of thing.”
“I am not a prissy guy. I don’t need a shower or a kitchenette.”
“Dude. You have a bad thing with germs. And my brother’s camping sounds like what you describe from your camping experiences. Sitting around a fire. Riding bikes. Plus the kids would love to see you again...”
“You don’t have to dangle the kids in front of me. The answer was already a huge yes. I’d love to go with you and your family.”
“You’d love to?”
“Yes. I really like them. And now I get to be an official part of the family... kind of.” My head was full of cotton and I wasn’t thinking clearly. I shouldn’t have planted that seed so early.
“I wouldn’t leave you behind. If I go to any family functions, I want you by my side. Or I’m going to stay here with you.”
“Bah.” Humbug. I swatted away his hand.
The next day I had even less energy than the day before. “I don’t want to leave you like this,” Mark said. “I’ll cancel my flight. They’ll understand. I’ll tell them my situation and they’ll understand.”
“No,” I said firmly. “I’ve dealt with this for years. I’ve dealt with this on my own and with my parents. And now you’re a part of it, too. Life goes on whether I’m healthy or not. I’ve just got to make the most of my good days.”
“I’m still not going to leave you. Nothing you can say will make me change my mind.”
“If you stay, I will chop your balls off in your sleep.”
“You drive a hard bargain.” We shared a smile, like the pair of goofs that we were.
“This is part of my life. I can handle myself.” He made his same argument again. “I love you,” I said, trying to tamp down on my frustration. “I understand how this is a hard decision for you, but it really isn’t. Logically, you can’t cut out of your obligations like this. Especially not if you’re taking next week off.” He tried to argue again. “I’ll stay in bed and get more of my editing done. I’ll outline for my next book. There’s tons of things for me to do, and I don’t want one of them to be worrying about you missing your next photoshoot.”
Oh no. Am I really caring about his fashion career? How did this happen? Who have I become?
“If I leave you here... I don’t like this. I don’t like it at all. I’m taking you to your shitty apartment and I'm going to make Suhail watch over you. That kid needs to get a life. Shit, he’s in the apartment every weekend.”
“I’m the same way,” I reminded him gently. “Not everyone is like you.”
“Not everyone is a nerd, either.” Mark made me five meals and stored them in plastic ziploc containers. “There better be room in the refrigerator for this food and you better not try to eat anything else. This is all fresh, gluten-free, and preservative-free. It’s the best of the best. So don’t let Nick eat it when he gets high. If he does, he’ll have to answer to me... and I won’t be happy.”
“I promised them no drama!” I complained.
“You’ve gone two weeks without drama. We should call that a miracle.”
Mark took me to the apartment and did exactly what he said he was going to do. He cleared the fridge of the pizza boxes and stored my meals. He instructed Suhail to worry about me. He threatened Nick and told him not to eat my food.
Then he left. He didn’t give me a hug—he just left. He texted me when he was at the airport and apologized for not kissing me goodbye. He said it was too hard to see me like that and if he said goodbye, he didn’t think he’d be able to leave.
= dramatic =
= Drama Queen =
~it’s true~
= I love you, too. See you on Monday. =
I very nearly cried after that exchange. It was such a stupid thing to say... I couldn’t say goodbye, because then I wouldn’t leave. It was sentimental, and goofy, and... ick. I couldn’t shake the feeling that it left in my stomach... whatever word you would call it. The feeling hung over me for the weekend.
My Kind of Camping
Mark and I passed the outer suburbs north of Chicago. We were in the country! Absolutely free!
The top of his convertible was down. The weather was sprightly—a mix of refreshing coolness competing against the last resurgence of summer. When the car stopped, it was definitely tee shirt weather, which wasn’t unusual for October, but it was remarkable enough that I felt a keen pleasure in experiencing such a beautiful day surrounded by trees that were primed to change color.
The leaves wouldn’t truly start changing for another week, which was a shame. I’d have to go with my parents down to the boat next weekend, just to breathe in the changing of the seasons.
I loved the country. I was built for open spaces and small roads. There were a lot of benefits to living in the city, but I always felt cramped and tense. Out here I can think.
I smiled to myself while watching the puffy white clouds hanging so clearly in the sky like scoops of anti-gravity ice cream. What a glorious day!
Sometimes I wake up in the morning and walk out on the front porch and feel... connected. That’s the closest word I have to explaining the sensation of what I felt on that drive with Mark to the campsite. I closed my eyes, but it felt like I had them wide open—like I knew where everything was and everything knew about me. I felt so perfectly at peace and content.
I don’t usually feel such a deep and spiritual contentment.
It was humbling just to be alive and experience the perfect weather. I felt grateful to have Mark next to me... and there was a comforting twang of familial love for my parents, cousins, grandparents, friends... for everyone. I was awestruck. I was alive, and for that special moment... I knew I was alive.
I had the conscious realization that my life was part of this great world and I was not overwhelmed by that thought. Usually when my thoughts got so grand, I would shrink away and feel small. But that day I felt strong—and I gained strength from my special moment.
Part of my strength came from Mark. He gave me so much confidence. He had become a constant in my life. I had know
n him for less than five months... but he was already everything to me. He made it feel like my life was balanced. He was my counterpoint (sometimes annoyingly so).
Mark, as usual, jolted me out of the magnificent spell I was under... but I wasn’t angry at him for breaking it. I felt full of love—and wanted to share with him.
“We have everything,” Mark said.
“What?”
“We’ve packed and we’ve repacked. If we forgot something, I know my sister-in-law will have it. They go camping every year. She has it down to a science. And if both of us are missing something, I’ll find a Walmart and buy it.”
“Of course,” I said dreamily. I let my hand float over the window frame and watched it go up and down as the air rushed past.
“Are you nervous?”
“About what?”
“I don’t know. You seem quiet.”
“I’m just thinking.”
“About what?”
“What is this, twenty questions? Sometimes I like to think.”
“I want to know what you’re thinking about.”
Embarrassing things. About Mother Earth and about interconnectivity and about gratitude and about completeness.
“You sound like my dad,” I said dismissively. “He would come home from work and we’d be at the table for dinner and he would say ‘Jester, what are you thinking about?’” I mimicked my father’s gruff voice, then I shrugged. “Sometimes I just think... about nothing... and about everything.”
“Then you always were a deep thinker,” Mark commented. “You aren’t worrying about your parents finding out about us?”
“I wasn’t. What’s there to worry about?”
“Did you tell them where you’re going?”
“I didn’t tell them anything. We’re only going to be up here for the weekend and I’ll have cell reception. If my parents call, then I’ll make something up.” My parents had stopped at my apartment unannounced the other day so they had called and wondered where I was. I was with Mark, of course, but I couldn’t say that. That brief meddling from my parents started a long cascade of dominoes in my relationship with Mark.
“You need to introduce me to your parents,” Mark suggested. “Things would be so much easier for you. Less stress. I’ll be on my best behavior. Your parents will love me. Everybody loves me.”
The Lover (It's Just Us Here Book 4) Page 13