As he led the way to Nisha’s wardrobe, the sound of Mark’s steady footsteps was like the thudding of a vulture’s wings about to descend on Griff and leave him in tatters.
“There’s no room here,” Mark complained when they opened the sliding door, but he dove in and lifted some of the densely-packed clothes along with their hangers before throwing them on the bed.
He then bowed and invited Griffith in with a broad gesture.
“Unless you’re chickening out,” Mark whispered, putting Griffith on the spot.
Griffith glanced into Mark’s calm brown eye and then walked into the wardrobe without a word, diving into the jungle of floral-scented clothes. His skull emptied when a piece of silk tickled his cheek, setting off alarms of unwanted touch. With very little space to spare, he moved away from Mark on his knees, ending up in a tight crevice between the wall and Nisha’s woolen coats. The air was stuffy, the wooden bottom of the wardrobe—hard under his knees, and in the far-off corner, behind thick fabrics where no one could see him, he dreamed that there was another door somewhere, one that would lead him to a place where he could be carefree about kissing anyone he fancied.
His heart thumped heavily, as if there was a black hole forming in his chest, when the precious light that reached his secret spot dimmed—a sure sign that Mark shut the wardrobe.
"No cheating, we've got a timer!" came from beyond the wooden doors. The bottle and the people gathered around it were part of a separate world at this point.
Griffith’s reality consisted of the presence of another person in the tight space. Mark could have stayed by the door, but instead scooted closer, a shadow approaching Griffith in the dark with the most vicious intentions. Despite Griff’s attempts at making room behind the coats, Mark’s knees still touched his, one sliding between his legs and parting them on purpose. The touch was shockingly hot—the kind that you don’t want at first, only to start craving it after having a taste.
The grayish lines of light on the sides of the sliding doors were the only source of light in this warm cave of wood and fabric. Barely any of it touched Mark’s face, but as he came close enough for Griffith to smell the orange juice on his breath, somehow he managed to see the tempting lips move.
“Are we doing this, or are you scared?” Mark teased.
Breathing was so unbelievably hard.
A perfect crime.
Griffith didn’t even bother answering and just pressed his mouth to Mark’s. A spark exploded when their skin touched, but it wasn’t static electricity. It was something else—a steady humming energy that somehow trailed all the way down Griffith’s torso and twisted around his cock.
Before he could figure out the answers to questions blooming in his mind, Mark’s hot tongue parted his lips, and the slow exploration went down his body in a shiver of invisible touch. He couldn’t gather his thoughts fast enough when Mark pushed him back until his head hit the side of the wardrobe. Fortunately, the impact was softened by something made of tulle.
Mark pulled him right back by the tie and worked his hot tongue into Griff’s mouth, deepening the kiss as if he wanted to devour Griff alive.
Griffith barely knew where the floor was when his head spun, sending his rattled body against Mark’s. He clutched at the steady presence above him, holding on to shoulders that were so wide, and so strong they allowed for an endless amount of pull-ups. His mouth was filled with phantom popping candy flavored with brown sugar and tobacco, and reacted to Mark’s attention with a warm prickling.
This was nothing like the kiss with Leon. When Griffith finally broke through the wall of shyness and stroked the underside of Mark’s tongue with his own, shivers erupted in every single place on him. He fought back a whimper when Mark slid his hands up Griffith’s neck, all the way to his jaw, which he caressed with warm, somewhat rough thumbs, as if trying to coax out even more sweetness.
Griff would forever associate the soft rosy scent of Nisha’s wardrobe with this kiss.
Air soon became a precious commodity, and when he pulled away to breathe, Mark pushed him down, until Griffith slid all the way to the wardrobe floor, still heaving, still hot and confused when Mark’s knee pushed its way between his thighs.
For a brief moment, Griffith dared to open his eyes to a darkness that wasn’t quite as impenetrable as before.
Mark’s one remaining eye was closed, his brows gathered over the shapely nose in an expression of absolute focus on the deep kiss that set Griff’s whole body aflame. Mark’s weight was like warm water filling Griff’s lungs and pushing him to the seabed, yet Griffith didn’t want to come up for air. He’d rather let himself be taken over the edge, to the depths of the ocean, where there was no one to judge his choices. He didn’t know when Mark’s hands left his face, and slipped to Griffith’s back instead. Imagination played tricks on Griff and dust particles floating in the dim light seemed to transform the wardrobe into a body of water. One in which he and Mark were alone, safely contained, and with all the time in the world to explore each other’s bodies.
He gave a brief sigh when Mark’s teeth pulled on his lip, squeezing it to the point where it hurt despite throbbing excitement, like an erect cock when you stroked it. Mark didn’t feel heavy, likely keeping himself up and only resting a fraction of his weight on Griffith, but what if he weren’t so considerate? What if he pushed Griffith down and pressed his hips to Griffith’s instead of his thigh? His scent—an earthy yet fresh aroma that reminded Griffith of sun-scorched stone sprinkled with musk—would have been the only thing left for Griff to breathe in.
They were so close now, their hearts beat faster, harder, and Griffith whimpered into Mark’s mouth when he realized he could sense the tremor in Mark’s chest against his. He pushed up his hips, shuddering when his cock rubbed against Mark. Shame was his second name after Uncontrollable Lust, but when Mark rocked back against him, Griffith couldn’t stop the motion of his body, pulled into this game of throbbing and pleasure by his own erection.
How on earth was he supposed to think clearly in the heat of the wardrobe, with Mark’s lips playing him like a flute, and oh—now he was thinking about Mark’s mouth working his cock the way he sucked on Griff’s tongue. Darkness was his refuge from all the thoughts trying to enter without invitation.
You shouldn’t be liking this.
You should have let him kiss you.
He’s exactly who you were supposed to stay away from.
Don’t you remember what he called you?
Griffith opened his eyes wide when someone banged on the wardrobe.
“One minute!” called out Janet.
Mark’s arms stiffened around Griff, and he slowly pulled away, panting as he watched Griffith without a word. When had Griff wound his fingers into Mark’s hair?
Why wasn’t he letting go?
Griffith swallowed, biting back a groan when Mark’s thigh touched his groin. It was only then that Griffith woke up from the sort of trance, shifting away and curling up his legs in a vain attempt to hide what Mark had surely felt. He could barely force himself to look at him as shame sneaked its way through his body, laughing at him wordlessly. Had the people outside heard that noise Griff had made earlier?
"Sorry, I'm a bit drunk," Mark whispered, but there had been no taste of alcohol in the kiss they'd shared. “Got carried away. Secret, right?”
Mark ruffled his own hair, making some of the curls fall to his forehead. Did a more handsome man even exist? Definitely not. With that cocky half-smile, the warm breath, the wide shoulders Mark was the very definition of what people craved. But it was the way he’d touched Griff that ignited more than attraction to a handsome face. There was such confidence and strength in Mark’s hands. He’d just gone for it until Griff ended up on his back and forgot that he should mind.
What would have happened if Janet hadn’t interrupted them?
Embarrassment was a cold sensation down Griffith’s back, and the sense of unease coming from Mark’s last que
stion had him sitting on needles. He didn’t want to leave the wardrobe just yet.
“Sure,” he wanted to whisper but ended up barely making a sound.
Mark watched him in the silence, a half-smile crooking his lips. Griff had no idea what Mark could possibly be thinking about, yet it felt as if each layer of clothes was being stripped away from him with that brown gaze alone. Could they not stay in this fortress? Why was it made out of sand and meant to wash away come high tide?
The silence once more clamped anxiety around Griffith’s chest. What did that knowing smile mean? Was Mark secretly laughing at how easy Griff was to crack? It was Griff who had a giant erection that wouldn’t dwindle. It was Griffith who at first hesitated, and then let a guy he barely knew rub against him. Maybe Mark now thought Griff had done it all on purpose to get his hands on Mark without having to explain himself.
What if any of this reached Charlotte’s ears?
Even inviting Mark to the party would have earned Griff a scolding. This? So, so wrong.
To make things worse, the countdown behind the doors began, sinking Griffith deeper in the well of helplessness. He didn’t want to face anyone. He’d entered this stupid wardrobe nervous yet also excited, and now he was an aroused mess, desperate to press against Mark’s muscular, strong body. The world that awaited him outside would be different from the one he’d left.
He looked away from Mark, more terrified of having to face his friends by the second. He had an erection, and it just wasn’t going down. What if this situation became some kind of gag to tell everyone in his class? Everyone would say that it’s just a game, but they would have their suspicions. Of course they would, and he would be all alone with that dreadful outcome.
Mark lifted Griff’s chin and forced him to look. “You okay?”
The distant door of the wardrobe slid open to the disharmony of Janet’s laughter. The light invaded the sanctity of the space uninvited, without care for how profound those past few minutes had been for Griffith.
In the bright light, Griffith looked at Mark from up close. He had such long lashes, and the two small beauty spots under his remaining eye seemed to exist only to complement the handsome, tanned face. Griffith’s head rattled, leaving him with a sense of painful weightlessness in anticipation of having to brave the mob outside. But Mark’s lips were no longer smiling. He took one more glance at Griff, and pushed the door back in place, once again drowning the wardrobe in the comfort of darkness. “Sorry, we like it here. We’ll be staying.”
“That’s against the rules!” Nisha said. “Oh, my God! Mark, you really can’t play this game, can you?”
But no one was prying the door open, and it slowly sank into Griff that most people out there were in fact too drunk to care about Griffith’s erection, or what he really did with Mark in the wardrobe. Breathless from the stress of it all, he watched Mark shift closer again, the skin on his nape prickling in anticipation of another kiss.
There were many things that he disliked about Mark’s earlier behavior, but his bravery, the conviction that he didn’t have to satisfy everyone and could act however he saw fit, were making Griffith rethink his attitude. Sometimes, he thought that maybe if his circumstances were different, and he didn’t have to be wary of others, his life would have been happier.
Mark sat opposite Griff with a sigh. “Take your time,” he whispered. “Don’t worry. I got hard for anything with a pulse when I was your age.”
Griffith swallowed, both grateful and embarrassed to his core. This had to be the worst social mishap that had ever happened to anyone. He gave a shallow nod, trying to swallow the hard tension in his throat. Still, Griff was glad for that opening and laughed.
“You aren’t exactly a grandpa.”
Mark smiled, and Griff had never seen anything more genuine. “I’m twenty one, and I’ve had some experience by now.”
Griffith trembled just thinking about it. This had only been his second kiss ever—the first one being only a few hours back and lasting seconds. Had Mark noticed?
Twenty one was only three years older, yet it seemed like they were on completely different levels when it came to experience. “But not in wardrobes?”
Mark bit the lip Griff wanted to kiss again. “Never in wardrobes.”
Griffith exhaled, happy to sense the pressure between his legs ease somewhat. And yet, being alone with Mark in such a confined space charged the air with electricity. It was so intimate he never wanted to leave.
If he hadn’t been gay before he entered this place, he definitely was now.
Chapter 7 - Mark
Mark’s lips still tingled from the touch of Griffith’s raspberry marshmallow mouth. In the dark confines of the closet, Griffith had let go of his stuck-up words and came undone in Mark’s arms, as eager for the touch of a man as he was shy about it. Mark had given Sleeping Beauty the kiss of life. And now he was stuck with an attraction that was growing on both sides, even though he shouldn’t pursue those pink lips, no matter how loudly his dick told him otherwise.
This was ridiculous.
He was ridiculous.
And yet he kept going back to the way Griffith had clutched Mark’s hair, how he’d rubbed his rock-hard erection against Mark. Griff was a blushing flower, but he sure was horny.
After Griff’s near-panic attack in the wardrobe, they’d explained that they’d struck up a private conversation, and none of the other players questioned their words. Even the few jokes from Griffith’s friends relied on the assumption that Mark and Griff hadn’t actually done anything inside the closet and only played things up for the benefit of the other participants.
The rest of the party became a blur of longing that Mark didn’t yet know how to deal with. He didn’t want to alienate himself, so he chatted to everyone, but somehow he always gravitated close to Griffith. Unlike Mark, Griffith wasn’t stealthy, so every time he tried to watch Mark, his interest was painfully obvious in those glistening blue eyes.
Leon must have already forgotten about his defeat—or was desperate to make everyone believe he didn’t care that he’d lost against a disadvantaged guy—because he was a loud, tall presence wherever he appeared. Mark didn’t know the guy well, but Leon had annoyed him from the second they came into contact, and he couldn’t shake it.
But what really got Mark itching to throw the guy off the closest balcony was the way he’d touched the small of Griffith’s back in the kitchen when he thought no one was looking.
Well, Mark was. And he didn’t like it. Which was completely unreasonable, since he’d laughed off the in-game kiss as experimenting while drunk.
Shit.
Was Griffith… taken? He didn’t appear particularly close to Leon and very obviously hadn’t supported him during the dart game, but maybe it was some misguided front he put up. Was it so wrong of Mark to just want someone sweet and pliant for once? A late birthday present to himself in the form of a boy with skin like rose petals. He wouldn’t hurt the pretty thing. He’d be gentle, take his time, and show Griff the ropes. But Griffith was still a boy, only seventeen. Charlotte’s brother on top of it, and Mark hoped that maybe, just maybe, she would reconsider. Give him a chance to at least explain his actions. So far, he could see no light at the end of this tunnel.
After midnight, Mark saw Nisha making out with a guy dressed as a geographical globe, and the further she pressed against his fabric-and-sponge costume, the more flattened the spherical outfit became.
At two AM, many of the guests were already moving on, but with the booze still powering the party, dancing, games, and conversations in the kitchen were going strong. From his vantage on the balcony where he’d gone for a smoke, Mark watched Leon follow Griffith with a bottle of Merlot. After a lengthy conversation, Griff ended up accepting some more of the wine, but instead of staying with Leon in the quiet corner like a secret lover would have, he led the way toward a large gathering of people.
Mark didn’t miss the sneaky glance cast toward him b
y those brilliantly blue eyes. Their shade had him wanting to jump into those twin pools that only looked cold, hiding sweetness and warmth beneath a thin layer of ice.
Mark could just decide to fuck responsibility, ignore the fact that Griffith was the sibling of his former lover, and start a charm offensive that would breach the walls of Griffith’s castle. But if he were to kiss the prince again, the princess he’d come here for in the first place would never forgive him.
When Griff walked out of the room, followed by Leon and his bottle, Mark butted his cigarette and tailed them past the living room, the kitchen, and down the corridor. Griffith might have been walking his guest to the door, like the good host he was, so Mark leaned against the wall and listened to the conversation beyond the bend of the hallway.
“No, I think I’m good. If I have one more glass I’m gonna just drop dead,” Griffith said with a laugh that sounded somewhat tense.
“Don’t be a baby. You look completely fine to me. You gotta build up a tolerance at some point, right? It’s the worst when your friends have to drag you home,” Leon said, and his words were followed by the clink of glass.
Mark would happily smash that bottle on the douchebag’s head. Griffith wasn’t even eighteen yet, so why was that idiot so adamant to get him drunk? Mark had all to many ideas.
Then again, it was yet another reminder that Mark shouldn’t be fantasizing about Griffith’s underage ass.
He rolled his forehead against the wall in an attempt to cool down. Was it his fault that Griff was this delicious meringue topped with cherries and rose dust that had been created to indulge Mark’s taste buds?
“There you go!” Leon laughed. “Anyway, it’s kinda late. You think I could crash here tonight?”
Mark clawed at the wall and his shoulders tensed. Like fuck was Leon staying here after pushing a drink on Griff.
Griffith was suspiciously silent for a while. “Um... I don’t know. I’d have to ask Nisha. We haven’t really discussed this kind of stuff yet.” A way of saying ‘no’ in the politest and most roundabout way in existence.
A Breath of Innocence Page 8