Greg had never met someone like me.
I had an excellent memory, even for the littlest of details. My daily journals helped with my memories... I won’t lie and say that everything stays in my head. I write about interesting things that happen to me, and those written stories help with my recall.
Like, for example, that night Mark took me out to celebrate when he successfully passed the summer writing course. That was one very eventful night. Mark had taken a drug (or drugs) that night so he went completely out of his mind... and I took advantage of that. When Mark tried to kiss me, I let him. Then I kissed him back. It was the first time I ever truly kissed a man—and Mark didn’t remember it.
The drama from that kiss overshadowed another important thing that had happened earlier in the night.
I met a man that night... at the bar in the club... one of Mark’s friends. I couldn’t remember his name and I could barely remember his face. I knew he was tall. I knew he rubbed me the wrong way. I knew that Mark trusted him.
And I knew that Mark’s friend was the one to hand me the drink I left on the counter that eventful night when Mark got drugged. I had already reached my one-drink-limit (which I was still enforcing at that time) and wasn’t going to try that second drink, even though Mark had bought it for me. So I carried it with me until Mark took it from my hands and downed it.
Mark drank it. He drank it.
It took a long time for me to connect the dots. I was a naturally suspicious man, but even I wouldn’t have considered that scenario. Why would anyone want to drug me? I still didn’t know the answer to that... but after my paranoid mind stitched together the clues, I had a hunch.
The next time I met Greg—again at a club—he paid me an unnatural amount of attention while simultaneously showering Mark with praise. The guy made me feel like he was constantly assessing me—like a butcher. I asked if we had met before. Greg made the mistake of mentioning where we had first met... and then I knew. I knew who Mark’s friend at the bar had been that night. I knew the man who handed me the (probably) spiked drink.
I had squinted at Greg as I processed these connections. My face was blank, devoid of emotion. He smirked at me. I couldn’t tell if it was a mean, all-knowing smirk, or if that’s just what his face looked like normally.
I couldn’t accuse him of spiking my drink. I couldn’t do it then and I couldn’t do it the night he seduced Melanie. All I could do was watch him closely... and do my research.
In the process of writing the many novels in my catalogue (including a fair number of detective stories) I have met a number of strange individuals. In the process of doing academic research with a friend of mine... I learned of unusual techniques. One such individual helped me unearth a juicy detail of Greg’s life by using a research technique I learned from my academic friend. I eventually followed that lead until it unearthed an even juicier secret. And then Greg’s juicy secrets came pouring out of the internet like candy from an overturned gumball machine.
Oh yes, I had found Greg’s secrets. He was not an innocent man. He had the background to know how to drug someone... and he had a history of... moral bankruptcy.
WE FELL OUT OF THE club in one big happy, drunk group. I was basically sober. Mark hadn’t had as much as usual because he was preoccupied with my preoccupation. Melanie was with Greg. They strolled ahead of us as we hunted for our Uber.
I hated the way he walked. I hated the way he talked. I wanted to tear his fucking eyes out. He was only with her as a proxy to Mark. If Mel wasn’t related to Mark, Greg wouldn’t have been anywhere near her.
“Relax,” Mark whispered in my ear. His breath smelled of alcohol. That was the first night I ever got upset at him for drinking. I usually went with the flow.... If Mark drank, then he could convince me to drink and relax.
But that night was different. That night I was a helicopter around Melanie, sensing danger. No one else knew how twisted Greg could be, how sociopathic.
All four of us piled into the Uber. Mark sat in the back next to Melanie. Mel and Greg made out during the short ride home. It sounded like they tried to fuck back there, too. Disgusting.
Mark opened the door to his apartment and waved the unlikely couple into his kitchen. “Chris and I are going to head out for a few minutes so you two can have some fun. I’ll see you in the morning. Be good to her, dude.”
Greg saluted. I wanted to scream. Mark pulled me into the stairwell and we hiked up to Devon’s room. Devon and Shane were there and waiting for us. The room smelled like sex. I hadn’t seen either man leave with a hookup.
They hooked up with each other, duh.
“What the fuck is going on with Greg?” Devon asked.
“Give him a break. If Mel wants to have a little fun, let her have some fun.” Mark apparently took a hands-off approach to watching out for his little sister.
“Greg is a good fuck,” Shane informed us.
“Greg is gay!” Devon shouted.
“Apparently, he’s bi,” Shane said, not nearly as worked up as either Devon or me.
He’s not bisexual... he’s out for revenge. He’s out to fuck Mark, and if he can’t get the real thing, he’s going to get it through Melanie.
We gossiped for half an hour. It felt like a complete waste of time so I didn’t contribute.
“Chris doesn’t like him,” Mark said.
“I told you... I have a bad feeling about the guy.” I only had dirt on his past life... I didn’t know if he was reformed or not. I wasn’t going to smear the guy if he had reformed, but everything I had read only fed into my negative impression of him. Therefore, I felt free to share my negative gut reaction.
“Chill. It’s just a fuck. My sister needs to get it out of her system. The dude she was with really messed her up the way he left. Called her all kinds of names and shit. She just needs to let loose.”
Not with that predator. Not with the guy that I am almost fifty percent sure spiked my drink—the drink that you then took from me and made you act so goofy. Shit, what if I had taken that drug... would I have acted all horned out? Would Mark have even recognized something was wrong? Would I have simply disappeared from the club in the arms of the person who drugged me—compliant and without a will to resist? Shit. Melanie. Shit. I can’t know if he really is evil. All I have is a hunch and a psychological report from when he was a teenager. Chill. He’s not going to do anything bad to her.
We left Shane and Devon.
“Those two are totally in love with each other,” Mark said smugly.
“What?” I was not thinking about them at all. There were more pressing things to occupy my mind.
“They totally fucked. I know you short-circuit when you think of that stuff, but those two fuck like rabbits. And Shane is clearly in love with Dev.”
“I could smell it. Neither Devon nor Shane had a hookup for the night. Obviously they copulated just before we arrived.”
“Never say copulated again. Try using banged or fucked or sexed. Never copulated. You can be a real dork sometimes.”
“Sorry. I’ve got other things on my mind.”
“Stop worrying.” He grabbed me by the shoulders and shook my gently. “There’s nothing to be gained by stressing yourself out. Greg is a cool dude. Melanie is an adult. They can make their own decisions.”
“I just... don’t like Greg.”
“As you’ve told me before. But he’s fun to be around. He’s a good guy to party with. He’s not your kind of guy, but he’s my friend. Get off his back. It’s not like he’s marrying my sister. He won’t start a relationship with her. This is just her bounce back after a horrible breakup.”
“What exactly happened between her and her guy?”
“He called her a slut. And some other words you don’t like.”
“And to prove him wrong she... goes out and fucks another guy?”
“She’s an adult.” Mark was suddenly cross. He could get belligerent when he drank, but usually that didn’t happen until
he was on the point of blacking out. This was genuine heat. “Don’t you be judging my sister.”
“I’m not judging. I’m worried about her.”
We tiptoed into his apartment and past the guest room into the master. For one horrifying second I expected Greg to be on the master bed fucking Mel, but they were safely in the other room. We didn’t hear them moving around. Mark took me into the bathroom and we showered. He washed me, making sure to be as sensual as possible. We kissed. I felt foolish for worrying about Melanie and hugged him in the shower.
When we got out, we heard them. Greg was grunting. Mel was moaning. I didn’t hear them use words—not that I was listening too closely.
Mark wiggled his eyebrows at me.
We retreated to his bed and locked the bedroom doors. It wasn’t as loud in our room. Thankfully the two bedrooms were separated by a hallway and a bathroom so we didn’t have to listen to the headboard banging directly next to our heads.
I was uncomfortable as I fell asleep. I could still hear our two guests copulate in the guest room. If only I still had the earplugs that were so successful during my sophomore year of college when the guy in the room above mine had frequent, vigorous sex which resulted in the grinding of the bunk beds against the floor tiles and the walls.
This wasn’t as loud, but I cared about Mel... so it was a hundred times more cringe-inducing.
And the worst thing about it... it made Mark really horny.
“Please, babe,” he said, while trying to finger my hole. “Please, I need it so bad tonight.”
“This is freaky,” I stated. I didn’t leave any room for negotiation... my objections were clearly stated.
“God, I’m so fucking horny right now. Why didn’t you dance with me? I tried to warm you up.”
“We did plenty of dancing.”
“Not my kind of dancing,” he growled. He kissed me until I fought back. Then he rolled a condom down his index finger and covered it in lube. “We didn’t get to do anything last night because of the party and because of Mel. Let’s make up for it tonight.”
“You missed your chance,” I said. “I thought we agreed on a schedule.”
“We agreed that if we ever missed a Wednesday, then that day of sex wouldn’t roll over. Once it’s gone, it’s gone. But I can use my sex day any time during the week. And I’m choosing now.”
“This is not even funny,” I complained. “I can still hear their headboard.”
He stuck his finger up my butt. I grunted.
“If my sister is getting some tonight, then I am too.” When he was done with the finger he pulled out a small, grey dildo. Mark had bought that for me because it was less stressful to have a dildo in me than his fingers (which was still really disgusting and the moment I realized that I preferred a dildo was when I thought: wow, this is really getting gay).
He slid a condom on the dildo (to protect the dildo from my poop, obviously).
“Why don’t you ever give me an enema?” I asked.
That question stopped him cold, like a cartoon in mid-motion. He had a lube-coated dildo in one hand and a look of consternation on his face. “Next time, babe. Yeah, you’re right. You’d probably like that better. You and your shit-issues.” He worked the dildo into me and kissed my stomach while rubbing my chest and arms. “You’ve been talking to Marty?”
I winced because he pushed too fast at the end. Mark was never rough with me. He tried to make sex as non-violent as possible. “Obviously... Marty gave me a few pointers.”
“Good.”
“Did you want us to have dinner so he could teach me how to be a good bottom?”
“Are we really talking about this now?”
Um... yes? What’s the problem?
He slid the dildo in and out of my butt, gently. It didn’t hurt after a few minutes.
“This is just like the sexposition scenes in Game of Thrones,” I added.
“You’ve watched too many shows with dragons.”
“Hey, Mark?”
“Yeah, babe?” He was ready to enter me, but I had an important question... I had wondered about it when we talked with Claude and Marty, but had never gathered the courage to ask my partner.
“Marty is a bottom... how did he know he was a bottom and not a top?”
Mark was ready to mount me. He gave me an incredulous look. “I know you need me to warm you up to get you really involved... but babe, I need it right now. Can you do it for me?”
“I said I would. You shoved a dildo in my ass.” I haven’t complained.
“Good.” He slid into me and sighed. “Take that cock, bitch.”
“Mark!”
“Oh sorry. Take that cock... buddy.”
I stewed and waited for him to finish.
“Yell for me babe.”
What?
“TAKE THAT COCK,” he yelled, unexpectedly loud. “OH YEAH!”
He fucked me vigorously. What did he want me to say? Big cock? Love that cock? You’re soooo good?
I realized he wanted to put on a show for Greg, which made me gag through my grunts.
“YESSS!” I screamed. I bounced my hips so that the headboard hit the wall.
“Nice,” Mark commented. “Louder. Let’s go, babe. Show them what we got.”
How stupid. I am not going to be in a sex competition.
“OHH YESS! What a LUXURIOUS cock!” I tried not to giggle. “So BIG and SPACIOUS!”
Mark laughed at me and his whole face lit up. “You can stop yelling. You are forbidden from yelling any more. I should have known better.” He see-sawed in and out of me. “You’re such a dick.”
“NO!” I moaned loudly. “YOU’RE A DICK! A really, really BIG dick!”
He pounded me hard after that little act of defiance. I exhaled sharply.
“Sorry, babe?” Mark said quickly. “Did I hurt you?”
“No.” I squeezed lightly around his cock. “Slow down.”
“You wanted to go fast.”
“Slow down and let me help out.” I squeezed while he plunged and retreated.
“Oh yeah!” he moaned. “Fuck yeah. You’re so tight. Shit.” His head rolled back and his eyes shut.
I didn’t understand what all the fuss was about. I wished I could have a book to read or something. He generally took between ten and fifteen minutes to fuck me, sometimes longer if I was more in the mood. Now that he had done it a couple times, I knew how to tighten myself and how to lift my lower body. It was also boring, so very, very boring.
I hadn’t yet asked Marty if he felt bored when he was on the bottom. I suspected not. Was anyone bored when they had sex? I knew better than to ask.
This was just like in high school when it felt like everyone was pretending to want to date because the movies said they should. It felt like they were all acting and I was the only one who hadn’t gotten a script.
Sex was the same way... even with Mark. Sometimes I could be into it... but most times I had to fake it. I had to pretend and we had to make a game of it in order to keep me involved. Some would call Mark a selfish lover—and he certainly was that night. He was not very concerned with my pleasure, though he knew I didn’t get much pleasure from this anyway. My pleasure came from making him happy, and he was happy to be fucking me... so that was good enough for both of us.
I squeezed and rocked my hips. He opened his eyes. “Yeah, babe!” He fucked me quickly (so quickly it made it hard to breathe). “Almost there. Let’s cum together.”
I nearly laughed out loud. I was so far from cumming that it wasn’t even funny. It was pitiful.
When he was done, we cuddled. He knew that’s what I needed to feel whole and healthy and happy. Cuddling was how I expressed my connection and gratitude. He didn’t squirm or flinch. He touched my back and spoke loving words to me. I fell asleep with my body stretched over his chest protectively, like I wanted to keep Greg away from him.
If Greg wanted Mark, he was going to have to go through me.
My Ps
ycho Side
I am not a jealous person, though Mark apparently wanted me to be. I gave him free reign during the first phase of our relationship. If he wanted to fuck someone—I didn’t care. If he wanted to dance with someone—I didn’t care. I let Mark be Mark.
I didn’t realize that Mark wanted me to act jealous and wanted me to cut in when he danced with strangers. He wanted me to be mean and nasty to people who came on to him too hard.
Mark was very protective of me. He didn’t want anyone to get too rowdy around me. He didn’t want anyone to hit on me... well, they could hit on me, but if they tried to touch me (which he knew I hated) Mark became an aggressive bear.
The only time I acted like a jealous lover was around that psycho Greg. I had warned Mark about him... I kept them separated. I would appear at Mark’s side the moment Greg entered the club. I would dance with my lover the entire night, just so Greg would stay away.
Mark loved my extra attention; he ate it up and wanted more of it. So he let Greg stay around instead of banishing the psycho like I suggested. It was a strange dynamic... Mark wanted me to protect him, so he needed someone to be protected from.
Ugh.
The next morning we learned how vicious and mean-spirited Greg could be.
I woke up first, as usual, so I headed out to do my morning writing. The bathroom was already occupied. I started typing while waiting for the bathroom to become available—this was the first morning I’d ever encountered this problem.
The door opened and Melanie joined me in the living area. She looked like shit.
“Hey Mel,” I said.
“Hey.” She didn’t show any emotion. The she gingerly sat on the other side of the table and winced.
“Are you... okay?”
“I need some ice.”
I got her a cup of ice water. She stuck it between her thighs. Oh, that kind of ice.
“Is everything... okay?” I asked again.
“No. That fucking faggot took me too quick. I must have passed out. I woke up this morning, bleeding. And now I have a headache, and my body hurts... fuck.”
The Lover (It's Just Us Here Book 4) Page 20