Breath trapped in Griffith’s chest when Mark licked his skin, all the way to the toe with a satisfied groan. “A dancer,” he muttered.
Griff choked on the warm air and couldn’t stop his foot from twitching in Mark’s hands as sensation danced up his body, as if Mark were already kissing him all over. He couldn’t look away, transfixed by the way the handsome features relaxed, Mark’s cheek pressing into the sole of Griff’s foot as if adoring the lowliest part of Griffith’s body was already extasy for him.
“Do you even understand how much power you have over me?” Mark progressed to kissing each one of Griff’s toes and tickling them with the touch of his lips.
A man like Mark.
Professing that it was Griffith who held the power here.
Griff’s emotions were spinning out of control, and he didn’t know what to think anymore, but when Mark gently sucked on his little toe, a shiver of excitement went up Griff’s leg and all the way to his cock.
He covered his mouth with his hand and watched Mark cradle his foot as if it were a baby that needed the gentlest care. His hair was wild and hung over his face like a tattered curtain, revealing the beautiful angles of Marks brow line, cheekbones, his nose. When their eyes met, it was as if a strong current had gone through Griffith’s body. He chewed on the flesh of his hand, staring back into the intense brown gaze that invited him in for a night of indecent yet wonderful things.
Mark’s lips moved over his big toe, their softness exerting pleasant pressure on the bruised flesh. His tongue tickled it on the underside, where it met the ball of Griffith’s foot, and then he sucked on it, the warm, damp interior of his mouth caressing Griffith so deliciously he couldn’t help but think of more. Of Mark doing that same thing to his cock.
“Why?” he choked out in the end.
Mark sighed deeply and closed his eye. “Because they’re so beautiful. Like all of you. The more I know you, the more I adore you. I’ve tried to be chill about it, but I can’t anymore.” He kissed the side of Griff’s foot, all the way to the ankle while his fingers travelled up Griff’s calf.
Griffith’s eyes shut, and he gasped at the unexpected pleasure of being handled this way. It was by no means the first time his legs and feet had been touched, but it had never felt anything like this. Unlike the expert touch of a doctor or masseuse, Mark’s was gentle and—for lack of a better word—cherishing every bit of Griffith.
But Mark was wrong about one thing—he was the cool one.
“Really? But you kept your distance,” Griffith whispered.
“I had some stuff going on, but you kept enticing me, and I didn’t want to push you into something until you were ready to come out. But I could see you looking at me, and it was like sitting on pins and needles.”
In a move so smooth Griff would have sworn if was practiced, Mark let Griff’s foot slide up his chest and over his shoulder as he leaned forward, all the way to kiss Griff’s lips, pushing him down to the floor. The sudden change of position meant Griff’s legs were spread, and through the jeans Griff could feel Mark’s erection against his stomach.
“I was losing my mind thinking of the things I want to do to you.” Mark licked along Griff’s bottom lip as he caressed the back of Griff’s thigh.
Folded in half, Griffith put his hands flat on Mark’s pecs, not sure if he wanted to push him away or twist his hands in Mark’s top and pull him even closer. His tongue was so hot its touch was searing Griffith’s already-tenderized flesh in the sizzling of Griffith’s desires.
“Oh, God,” he whispered, sucking in Mark’s earthy, masculine scent. He didn’t even know when his dick got fully hard, but when Mark pressed his hips against Griffith’s, the erection became a throbbing presence that was impossible to ignore.
“All I want is to make you feel good,” Mark muttered when his kisses shifted to Griff’s cheek, and then down to his neck. His one hand still petted the back of Griff’s thigh, the other caressed Griff’s side, and before he knew it, Mark teased his nipple with his thumb.
Griffith’s head contained a raging storm of thoughts, needs, and fears that mingled together into the blurriest of concoctions. Before Mark, he had never even kissed anyone. Well, there had been that one kiss Leon had stolen, but that didn’t count. Griffith hadn’t been into that, and he most definitely didn’t want to think of Leon as the guy who kissed him first. Leon was dead to him.
Mark was the first person he willingly kissed, the person he wanted to be around all the time, the cool guy who made Griffith dream of very naughty things, but the way their languid pace had suddenly become a gallop awoke a glimmer of worry inside Griff’s head. Even when he caressed and kissed Mark back, a voice inside his head whispered in warning, and as Mark’s fingers dipped under Griff’s waistband, the voice became much louder. It was as if they had jumped over several milestones to arrive at this point all too fast.
“I promise it won’t hurt,” Mark said as he nuzzled that sensitive space behind Griff’s ear.
No matter how pleasurable that was, the promise had Griffith rapidly sitting up—or rather attempting to, because with his one leg trapped, and Mark’s weight pressing down on him, he couldn’t freely move. “I... what?” he uttered breathlessly, feeling as if he’d been pulled out of the sauna and tossed into the snow.
Mark kissed the side of Griff’s lip with gentleness that went against the insistent pull on Griffith’s dancing tights. Mark was undressing him, and Griffith’s heart couldn’t have pounded in his chest any faster.
“Sex. It doesn’t hurt if done right. You hard under that codpiece?” Mark joked around as if he wasn’t nervous at all over being with someone new for the first time. How on earth did he do that?
Griffith shook his head, not even sure at what exactly, because he definitely was hard. “I don’t think this is a good idea,” he whispered, suddenly aware of the hard floor under him, and even more conscious of the strength of Mark’s muscles. He could easily hold Griff down if he wanted. What if Mark had only saved him from Leon because... well, for himself? Hadn’t he said he could barely control himself around Griffith?
“No? You sure?” Mark whispered and slowly grinded his hips against Griff’s crotch. His hypnotizing gaze held Griffith captive as the tights slowly but surely slid down Griffith’s hips The heat of his body was both exhilarating and oppressive, trapping Griff in a hell of his own making.
He pushed at Mark’s chest, his heart thrashing so fast it was making his chest throb. “No. Let go.”
Mark licked his lips. He hung above Griffith for a few seconds but eventually backed off. His moves were slow and hesitant at first, but then he let go completely and sat back on his heels. Flushed and handsome, an illustration of arousal, he still seemed like a potential threat. Bigger and stronger than Griffith, he could do nothing at all and still make him uneasy.
“Did I… do something wrong?”
Griffith frantically moved his tights back into place. How was he to even answer this question when his mind was in a state of chaos? “No. But I think we’re both a bit... we might have gotten too involved in the dancing, right?”
Mark sucked his lips in and just sat there for unbearably long seconds. “Right,” he said in the end and got up fast, the hard-on painfully obvious in his jeans.
Griffith looked away, wanting to give him privacy, but even now his thoughts wouldn’t leave him be. Had he done the right thing? Maybe there was still time to ask Mark if he wanted to stay, call off the rejection, and apologize? But what would have happened then? His fantasies about Mark didn’t even involve any activities that could be physically painful, so how was he to make a decision? He could still taste the fear of waking up in an unfamiliar bed with only splinters for memory.
He wished to put on his robe, but it was far away, and he didn’t feel comfortable walking while his cock remained stubbornly hard. What was going on in Mark’s head? Did he think Griffith was a tease? Did he secretly despise him now, just because he wouldn’t
gain access to Griffith’s body right here and now? He was certainly quiet.
Mark slung the bag over his shoulder and wouldn’t meet Griff’s gaze, already heading for the door. “So… Thanks for dancing for me,” he mumbled and the flood of darker color on his face was obvious even on his dusky skin.
Griffith pulled himself up, nodding. His throat felt too tight to breathe, and for some reason he couldn’t explain, the sudden tension felt like a sentence. Mark’s upset expression was like a stain on his conscience, and despite not a single accusation flying his way, he couldn’t help the sense that he had done something wrong. He’d been leading Mark on—they both knew it—and he was at fault for this sorry situation.
Walking Mark to the door felt like guiding him to the electric chair, and Griff grabbed the robe on the way, hiding at least some of his burning skin. The skin that Mark had touched and kissed only a minute ago. The skin Mark wanted to see more of.
When Mark stopped in the open door, and the cool air from outside tickled Griffith’s naked chest, he went tense, preparing for an onslaught of anger.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, pulling the folds of fabric tighter around him as guilt turned into an impossible weight in his heart.
He wanted Mark to stay. He wanted him to leave. He just wanted to be around him.
Mark rubbed his forehead, but Griff wouldn’t be given the privilege of being looked at. “We’re still friends, right?”
“You want to be?” Griffith asked, squeezing his hand on the handle.
Mark groaned. “Well, yeah. I like spending time with you. I’m sorry if I was too dirty or whatever…”
Griffith could hardly take the embarrassment of this situation. Nisha wouldn’t find out about this. No one would. And on top of it all, he felt like the biggest idiot for asking the hottest guy around to leave once things got intense. Maybe there was something wrong with him? Was he really even gay?
“No, it’s fine. We can... carry on as friends,” he said, practically crying on the inside.
And to top off this total clusterfuck, Mark shook his hand goodbye.
Shook. His. Hand.
When Griff closed the door behind Mark, he slid to the floor, floppy like a noodle yet still turned on. He listened to the fast-paced footsteps outside while his heart raced, but by the time the sound died down, he scrambled to his feet and entered his room, rolling onto the bed in just the robe and tights. The fabric caressed his heated flesh, the mattress pressed against his groin, triggering an outpour of pleasure streaming all over Griffith’s body. He rocked his hips with his face pressed into the pillow, and a small moan escaped his lips when he remembered the blissful expression on Mark’s face when he sucked on Griffith’s toes.
Second after second, desire rolled over Griffith in powerful waves, and he pushed down his bottoms and underwear, exposing his hot prick and balls to the cool air. It felt like the lightest brush of fingers—Mark’s fingers—teasing him where he was most sensitive. His mind brought him back to that moment minutes ago when Mark lay on top of him, pressing Griffith into the floor, his lips stealing Griff’s breath.
He smelled like no other man Griffith knew, and as they rubbed against one another that scent clung to Griffith while their hands wandered. In that alternate world, Griff had his hand around Mark’s dick, for the first time sensing its weight and girth. He wanted to get intimately familiar with its taste, and feel sperm dripping between his fingers.
And Mark would have that blissful expression on his face when Griff touched him back. He’d moan his excitement into Griff’s ear, so sturdy and strong even when accepting pleasure.
Griff couldn’t wait any longer and stroked his cock quickly as his mind drowned in the memory of Mark’s scent, his firm shoulders, and the way his thumb had teased Griff’s nipple. In the safety of his bed, none of this was threatening. Mark was in awe of Griff, and once the heat of his lips was done with plundering Griff’s mouth, he gave Griff that cocky smile and went so much lower. All the way to Griff’s cock.
Griffith’s hand was a bland replacement for the heat of Mark’s lips, but it only took a few pumps—and dream-Mark hollowing his cheeks as he sucked on Griffiths cock—for Griffith’s real-life dick to erupt. He pushed his hips up, helplessly digging his heels into the covers as he shuddered through the brief moment of bliss.
Drained, he gasped for air, looking at his bedroom, which all of a sudden felt cold and lonely. For the first time, he’d had a chance to come with another guy, and he’d blown it!
And now he and Mark would forever remain just friends.
Which was great.
But also horrible.
Chapter 13 - Mark
Three weeks passed as if the embarrassing incident in Griffith’s dance studio had never happened. Mark still watched Griffith perform from across the yard, they went on walks, to cafés, and for oh-so-many brunches, chatting about everything and anything but the simmering energy that kept pulling them together. He was at Griff’s heel whenever he was wanted, in hope that he could somehow make up for his hurried advances.
He should have known to keep it in his pants less than a day after Griffith was almost assaulted by someone he’d considered a friend, but when Griff had wiggled those kissable toes, the heat of the moment got the best of Mark and landed him—literally—foot in mouth.
Still, despite their relationship never once transgressing the boundaries of friendship since that awkward afternoon, the chemistry he’d sensed before was still there, present in every glance Griffith sent his way.
So there he was, helping Griff do some Christmas shopping for his family. As frustrated as Mark’s libido was sometimes, few things were as leisurely as going out with Griffith and doing regular-people things. Even though they weren’t intimate, Griffith remained the sweetest guy Mark had ever met, and Mark loved to hear him chatter about all kinds of stuff. Even the hustle and bustle of shops in December didn’t bother Mark. He’d settled into feeling more or less safe, even if he did occasionally get more tense at the sight of someone who didn’t seem to fit in.
“Last time I saw Leon, I thought I’d have to tell him off, but when he spotted me, he just stopped walking and turned around. I think he’s embarrassed over what he did,” Griffith said with a smile, walking that inch too close to Mark. Not that Mark minded.
The pedestrian zone in the city center had transformed into a packed Christmas market, with stalls offering sweets and all kinds of handmade products, as well as a multitude of places offering festive food and drink. On the way to the huge mall that awaited them at the end of the street, they rolled on with the crowd that was thick even on a regular weekday. They stood close and Griffith even held on to Mark’s arm from time to time, when the stream of people attempted to carry away one of them.
“But I’m glad. I don’t think I want to see his face, let alone talk to him,” Griffith said as they approached an outdoor bar constructed out of wood, with animatronic animals on the roof.
Mark pulled on his beanie to hide his ears from the chill. After so many years in South America, he was still not used to the weather here. “He doesn’t deserve a word from you.” It was good to know that Leon took Mark’s threat seriously, because he couldn’t vouch for himself if Leon hadn’t. Even though nothing serious happened in the end, the whole thing robbed Griffith of the sense of safety he deserved.
His thoughts dispersed when Griffith suddenly changed course and dragged Mark to a store window where a naked chest stared back at him from a whole display of books arranged into the shape of a Christmas tree. It was Secret Chef. Seth’s cookbook.
“My mother loves this guy’s recipes. I’m going to get her a copy for Christmas,” Griffith decided, ogling the cover with way more interest than Mark was comfortable with.
“I don’t know. Guy seems pretty full of himself. Is he selling recipes or his abs?” He barely held back a smile. If only he could tell Griff he knew who Secret Chef was, it would have blown Griff’s mind.
/> Griffith gasped, exaggerating his outrage. “He is not just a handsome floating chest. He is a person, and I wouldn’t mind him cooking for me.”
“I’m afraid he’s married.”
Griffith poked Mark with his elbow. “My thoughts are perfectly chaste. But it must be nice to have it all figured out. You know, be ready to marry another man and be so open about it. Even if you don’t show your face.”
“What? You’re not the marrying kind?” Mark winked at him.
Griffith pressed his lips together, beaming red flush like a lantern. “It’s a big commitment. And I don’t really know how gay relationships work in practice. Movies don’t have to be accurate.”
“What? You mean romance isn’t like in the movies? Do you think Secret Chef is a fraud with a fake husband?” Mark wanted to pet Griff’s nape so bad his fingers itched.
Griffith rubbed his nose, staring at the display, his throat working over and over. “It’s just that... I think I might not find what I see in romantic movies. Maybe my expectations aren’t very realistic.”
“Only one way to find out…” Was Mark being too forward, or too vague? He wasn’t even sure anymore.
Griffith smiled at him, looking up from under an oversized gray beanie. “I have a favor to ask,” he said and led the way into the bar. It was full, with groups of people gathered by small round tables or in booths located along the walls of the artificial alpine hut. The scent of spices stabbed into Mark’s nose the moment they neared the counter.
“Shoot. What do you want to drink?” Because he was guessing they’d be making a stop here. Mark didn’t mind. They had all the time in the world.
Griffith grabbed his forearm with a mischievous expression on the pretty face. “How about you get some of that mulled wine, and I leave you for twenty minutes?”
Mark cocked his head and poked Griff’s stomach. “You’re going speed dating or do you just want to get more bargains with the Flawr app? You know I can follow where you check in, right?”
A Breath of Innocence Page 17