“No?” Owen cocked his head. “Why not?”
“Not my thing. I’m not a big believer in love or romance, or anything schmaltzy. Ironic given Lauren and I were born on Valentine’s Day.”
Owen snickered. “That’s way too perfect. So you consider yourself aromantic?”
“Ugh, you’re such a millennial with your labels,” Mark said with a wink. “If I must classify myself, I suppose aromantic fits better than anything else.”
He heard the reluctance in his own voice, but knew Owen had a point. Mark had never felt romantically attracted to anyone. That heart-fluttery, over-the-moon kind of feeling people talked about when they met a special someone? He had no idea what that was all about. To Mark, falling in love sounded a little like being motion sick. Friendships and sex he understood, particularly in combination. They’d always been enough for Mark and he’d never questioned that about himself.
“Alistair would cringe at hearing me called Mac, too,” he said.
“Well, that’s stupid.” Owen glanced Mark’s way and smiled. “You can be the mac to my cheese any time you want.”
Mark tipped his head back and laughed. Damn, but this kid was fun. “Are you comparing me to comfort food?”
“Oh, yeah.” Owen’s eyes heated and Mark fell right into their warmth before he could stop himself. “You’re all kind of delicious, as far as I’m concerned.”
“I’ll accept Mac from you but only behind closed doors.”
The corners of Owen’s lips quirked up. “Okay. It’ll be our secret.”
He leaned in and covered Mark’s mouth with his own and a little while passed before either of them spoke again. A distant part of Mark knew they should ease off with the PDA. Overall, Boston was LGBTQ-friendly and the majority of its citizens didn’t care what two adult men got up to with each another. That didn’t mean bigotry was dead, however, and especially when the nearby sports arena meant a population of boorish homophobes in the crowd was almost a given. Mark didn’t stop, though. The shine in Owen’s gaze when they finally parted made him glad he hadn’t, too.
~ooOoo~
Mark meant to pour drinks once they’d returned to his apartment and stowed Owen’s skateboard in the hall closet, but Owen’s tongue in his mouth proved an excellent distraction. He and Owen were by the bed and tugging at each other’s clothes before Mark really registered what was happening, and the breathless laugh they shared felt damned good.
Once Owen’s clothing fell away, Mark drank in the sight of him nude, and the lust in Owen’s eyes seared him in return. Owen ran his hands over Mark’s pecs.
“I love your body.” He wet his lips with his tongue. “The way your muscles feel under my fingers...so sexy.” He pinched Mark’s nipple and both of them groaned.
“Fuck, you are hot,” Mark murmured.
Cock already standing rigid against his abdomen, he urged Owen down onto the mattress. Owen lay still under Mark’s gaze, his head pillowed in his hands, his chest rising and falling with each breath. A flush turned the tips of his ears red, and he sighed when Mark bent and skated his fingers over Owen’s torso.
“Want you, Mark,” he murmured.
Mark sat down beside him. “I want you, too.”
He teased the sensitive skin of Owen’s pelvis before he wrapped his hand around Owen’s cock. The noise that rolled through Owen seemed shockingly loud in the quiet of the apartment, and he brought his hands to Mark’s shoulders, pulling him closer. Mark slotted their mouths together and swallowed Owen’s greedy hum, and pumped him slowly while they kissed. He took his time stretching out on the bed.
They stayed like that for a long while, making out and grinding until they were breathless and Mark thought his heart would beat its way out of his body. With a gasp, he broke away, and pressed deep, wet kisses into the skin of Owen’s neck, licking and sucking while Owen groaned.
Mark worked his way lower, nosing at the sweat that sheened Owen’s ribs, then bared his teeth and nipped in just the right spot. Owen’s bark of laughter made him smile.
“Gah, no.”
Owen brought a hand up and wound his fingers in Mark’s hair, pulling lightly so Mark hummed. Mark moved back up Owen’s body, dropping kisses along the way, but Mark’s cock was hard and he was done teasing, particularly when Owen reached between Mark’s legs and palmed his dick. Mark arched against the touch with a gasp.
“Christ.”
Lust painted Owen’s face. “No religion during naked time,” he murmured, and even through his haze of need, Mark couldn’t stop his laugh.
“You are bananas.”
Owen smiled. “Pot, meet kettle.” Mark took him in hand, too, and Owen actually whined as Mark lined up their cocks so he could frot them. “Oh, my...fuck.”
“I’d love to.” Mark brushed their lips together. “You okay with that?”
“Hell yes.”
Owen rolled onto his stomach while Mark pushed up and grabbed for the nightstand. It seemed an age before he was sheathed and slicked, especially with the tempting sight of Owen’s gorgeous ass as distraction. Owen hummed when Mark spread his thighs and the sound pulled at something inside Mark. He held his breath and slid a finger inside.
“Mmm, Mark.” Owen’s voice wavered.
Mark stretched out over Owen. He slipped his free arm under Owen so he could hold him steady, and pressed his mouth to Owen’s ear. “You should see yourself. So hot.”
Owen gasped. He held on to Mark’s arm with both hands and turned his head on the pillow, and he panted while Mark slowly worked him open.
“Mmm.” Owen bit his lip when Mark slipped a second finger inside. He rolled his hips against the mattress, his breath catching on every exhaled breath. “I need—uhh, fuck. Fuck.”
“I know.” Mark kissed Owen’s damp temple and drew his fingers out, holding Owen tight against his shudder. “Okay.”
He nudged the head of his cock between Owen’s ass cheeks, and sensed more than heard Owen hold his breath. Owen whined as Mark pressed forward, however, and Mark forced himself to take his time, though the heat and pressure of Owen’s body was almost too much to bear. He went still and made himself wait until the rigid set of Owen’s shoulders relaxed a little, then dropped a kiss on the nape of Owen’s neck.
“Okay?”
“Yeah,” Owen murmured. “Need more.”
Mark rolled his hips, fighting to keep control, and closed his eyes as he bottomed out.
Damn, Owen felt good.
Moving together, they built a rhythm that soon had Mark’s head spinning. He buried his face against Owen’s neck and shifted his weight, and the noise Owen made when Mark tapped that spot inside him sent prickles all through Mark’s body.
He slid his other arm under Owen’s body and took him in hand, reveling in Owen’s gasp. Mark pumped him, matching the strokes with his own thrusts, and a familiar ache built low in his groin, winding its way up his spine. He gritted his teeth against the building wave, intent on pushing Owen over first.
“God, you’re gonna make me come,” Mark muttered, his voice hoarse. “Gonna make me fill you up, Owen, so fucking good.”
Owen let out a strangled cry. He went rigid under Mark, his grip like iron around Mark’s arm and his cock pulsing in Mark’s hand, streaking the sheets beneath them. The sound of his name on Owen’s lips set Mark ablaze. He swore, his teeth bared, and fucked into Owen until the room tilted around him. Mark’s world tunneled down into a white roar, and he came with a force that stole his breath.
He floated for a little while, content simply to coast while his brain came back online. He pulled Owen with him as he rolled onto his side. Still panting, Owen turned in Mark’s embrace. He rested his head on Mark’s shoulder and while Mark knew he should get up and find something to clean them off, he lingered instead and soaked up the feeling of Owen stretched out against him, warm and solid.
At last, he forced himself to rise and get a washcloth from the bathroom. Owen smiled as Mark wiped him dow
n.
“You’re such a gentleman,” he murmured.
Mark wanted to laugh, considering what they’d just done, but the sincerity in Owen’s eyes warmed him. He traced a cluster of freckles on Owen’s shoulder with his fingers. “You may change your mind when I ask you to get up so I can change the sheets.”
Owen chuckled. “Fair enough.” He pressed one palm against Mark’s hip. His eyes were clear, though his expression more somber than Mark had ever seen. “I’ll help you with that before I go, if you want me to clear out for the night.”
“I don’t, actually.” Mark stroked the freckles again. “My post-dinner plans were to watch Iron Chef with beer and cookies.”
Owen chuckled. “I’m oddly interested in this idea.”
“You’re welcome to join me if you’re in the mood to chill out for a while. I need to look up some movies for a dinner with Lauren and Keith next week anyway. We do a Shitty Movie Night once a month and it’s my turn to choose. Hanging out here tonight probably doesn’t sound very exciting to you, however.” Mark’s stomach flipped a little at Owen’s answering grin.
“I already told you that I’m into it.” Owen stretched. “I worked a lot of hours this week and a night in would do me good.”
Mark sniffed. “Okay, old man. C’mon and help me change these sheets so we can get some treats from the sugar stash.”
“Okay, Mac Daddy.”
Owen’s cheeky grin dissolved in laughter when Mark picked up a pillow and smacked him in the face with it.
CHAPTER FOUR
“Someone’s in a good mood.”
Mark glanced at his sister. It was Thursday and they were making meatballs with pasta for Shitty Movie Night. Lauren was going to pump Mark for information too, something he could tell simply by the way she smiled at him.
“If by someone you mean me, then sure, I suppose that’s true,” he said.
“It’s a good look on you.”
“I’m not sure I appreciate the tone of surprise.”
“It’s not surprise.” Lauren knocked her shoulder against Mark’s. “I’m saying I like it. You’re serious a lot these days and it’s nice seeing a smile in your eyes.”
Mark dropped his gaze back to the meat in his hands and considered his sister’s point. Between the two of them, he’d always been more sober while Lauren was bubbly. It seemed he’d become even less smiley of late.
When did that happen to me?
He chatted with Lauren and they roasted three trays of meatballs before turning to the business of making sheets of pasta. A pot of red sauce that Lauren had cooked the night before was simmering on the stove by the time Keith turned up in his blue hospital scrubs with a loaf of fresh bread, and he opened a bottle of wine for them all.
“What are we watching tonight?” he asked.
“I Love You To Death,” Mark replied. He nodded thanks when Keith set a glass down beside him. “There are fake Italian accents and murder plots, and it all sounds completely terrible.”
“Excellent.” Keith rubbed his hands together. “Shitty Movie Night is one of my favorite things.” He came around to drop a kiss on the sides of Lauren’s and Mark’s heads, then sauntered off for a shower. “We should have one every week!” he called over his shoulder.
I can imagine Owen saying something just like that.
Mark went still even before the thought had fully played out in his head. Where the fuck had that come from? And why the hell was Lauren smiling at him like the cat who ate the canary? He almost gulped at her next words.
“Owen said you guys have been hanging out.”
Mark cleared his throat. “Told you? Or confessed after you badgered him until he cracked?” He shook his head at Lauren’s shit-eating grin. “That’s what I figured.”
“Hey, you guys left together on New Year’s Eve, so it wasn’t exactly a stretch to assume you’d hooked up.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Mark folded a sheet of pasta in half. “We’ve had dinner a couple of times since then.” They’d had a lot of dinners, actually, often followed by breakfast on the morning after. He and Owen had been fooling around for the better part of the two weeks since New Year’s Eve, not that Mark was counting. “Owen’s fun.”
“Mmm-hmm, I see.”
Mark didn’t bother hiding his eye roll. “Ya do, huh?”
“Yep. You should have invited Owen to join us tonight.”
“Mmm, no, I don’t think so.”
“Why not?” Lauren argued. “You like him, don’t you?”
“Sure.” Mark shrugged. “But I don’t invite guys to Shitty Movie Night. You never did either, until Keith, and that’s how I knew you guys were serious. Despite the fact he’s five years younger than you, you goddamned cradle robber.”
Lauren rolled her eyes. “Like you never date younger men. Look at Owen!”
“Yes, point taken,” Mark said. “I’m not serious about Owen, however.”
“Not even a little bit?”
“Nope. We go out, yes, but that’s all. We have a good time, too. Owen’s easy to talk to and he’s vers, both plusses in my book.”
“Argh, no.” Lauren grimaced so hard Mark snickered. “I don’t want to hear about my brother’s sex life.”
“That’ll teach you to mind your business, then.”
“I asked if you liked him, Mark, not who bottoms!”
Mark laughed. “I thought you said you didn’t want to talk about my sex life.”
“Oh, don’t be such a pain.” Lauren positioned her knife over the folded sheets of pasta. “How thick should I cut?”
“Tagliatelle,” Mark replied. “I know Keith likes his noodles thicker, but I say thin when meatballs are involved.”
Lauren grumbled. “Now everything sounds like sexual innuendo.”
“It really does.” Mark chuckled some more, but helped by sweeping the fresh pasta ribbons out of Lauren’s way.
“So you and Owen are not a thing?” she asked.
Mark bit back a sigh. “No. I like him, Lo, but we’re casual.”
Lauren didn’t bother holding back her own sigh. “That’s disappointing.”
“How so? You know I’m not looking to get into anything serious with anyone.”
“A girl can dream big for her younger brother, right?” Lauren laughed at Mark’s exaggerated snort.
“Your younger-by-three-minutes brother. And you’re just saying all this because you don’t like Alistair.”
“Well, that’s not true or even fair.” Lauren frowned at the pasta. “I don’t even know Alistair, so I certainly can’t dislike him. I’ll be honest and say I’d like to see you with someone who’s at least interested in meeting your family, however.”
“And subject him to interrogations like this?”
“This isn’t an interrogation, honey. This is me making sure you get what you need.”
“No, this is you trying to get me to be settled,” Mark replied, a sharp edge in his voice. “You want me shacked up with a plastic doctor husband and shopping for a baby online.”
“Whoa.” Lauren set the knife down, and Mark wanted to kick himself at the hurt he glimpsed in her eyes. “I have never said anything like that to you, Mark. Or wanted it for you. Do I think you’d be happy in a solid relationship? Yes, I do. But if you want to be the casual guy forever, I will absolutely support you.”
“I know.” Mark set the noodles aside and swept his sister into a hug. “Shit. I know that, Lo. I’m sorry.”
Mark rubbed her back, and his heart cracked a little when Lauren squeezed him.
“You’re perfect the way you are, Mac,” she murmured. “All I’ve ever wanted you to be is you.”
“Yeah, well, you’re lucky there,” Mark said around the rocks in his throat. “I don’t know how to be anyone else, so it looks like you’re stuck with me.”
“Story of my life since before we were born.”
A laugh worked its way out of Mark. He gave Lauren another squeeze before he turned her loose,
but he stayed close and worried his lower lip with his teeth when she swiped at her nose with a napkin.
“Lo—”
“It’s fine.” Lauren sniffed. “I’m sorry I overstepped.”
“Well, I’m sorry I was a dick.”
“Okay.” She cut her gaze his way with a grin. “I was about to ask if Owen would be your plus one for the wedding, so maybe I’m the dick.”
“Oh, man.” Mark laughed, not so much at the idea of bringing Owen to Lauren and Keith’s wedding that spring, but at bringing anyone at all. “That’s not going to happen. For all I know, Owen and I might not even be seeing each by the time your wedding comes around.”
“I get it.” She busied herself brushing at the flour on Mark’s dark jersey, though her expression grew a little sad. “Don’t take it the wrong way when I ask you to be careful with him, okay?”
Mark drew his eyebrows together. “What does that mean?”
“I don’t think Owen’s like you when it comes to relationships.” Lauren tossed the napkin into the trash and washed her hands. “Don’t misunderstand me—he’s an adult and he can take care of himself. He’s not in a rush to get married, either. But he did have a boyfriend when he came to work at Bloom & Glass. They’re not together anymore, but to me that means Owen is the kind of guy who’ll look for Mr. Right at some point down the line. You, on the other hand, have made it clear you won’t.”
“Damned straight.” Mark huffed out a laugh. “So, what—you think Owen would look at me as Mr. Right? Why?”
“I don’t know why not,” Lauren said. “Maybe you don’t see it, Mac, but you’re great, even when you’re being an ass. I think you’d be surprised at how easily someone could want to be with you, if only you’d let them.” She reached for her glass. “Regardless, I like Owen. Enough that I worry you’ll break him when you get around to deciding you’re ready for something new, something we both know will happen.”
Ouch.
Nothing like a dressing-down from the one person Mark loved more than anyone. Still, he knew his sister was right, and that knowledge was foremost in his mind as they turned back to the pasta sheets.
Healing Hearts (Stealing Hearts Book 2) Page 3