A Breath of Innocence

by K. A. Merikan

Mark spun Griff around, making the silk slowly tighten around Griff’s wrists.

  Griffith fought for breath, dazed by the impromptu bondage and yet so very aware of the throbbing cock inside him. Drifting in the air, Griffith felt like a man caught between two lovers, in need of motion and the firm touch of Mark’s hands. He greedily bucked his hips, gasping when the thick dick slid back and forth in his relaxed ass.

  Mark’s kiss only became hungrier, his tongue circling Griffs and diving deep, as if he wanted to suck all of Griffith’s essence. After two spins, Mark tightened his grip on Griff’s thighs and leaned over him, making sharp and shallow thrusts that teased his sphincter yet didn’t give him the sense of fullness he so desperately craved. With pressure echoing deep inside him, he was desperate to push back onto the stiff dick.

  “Come on, please,” he whimpered, tensing his stomach muscles and shoving his hips down on Mark’s cock. It burned slightly, but the mind-numbing sensation of his insides exploding with lust made it worth the discomfort.

  Mark gave a low grunt that might have come from a wild cat, and squeezed Griff’s buttocks hard, spreading them even more as he pushed his cock all the way in. “Like this?” he said right into Griff’s ear and licked it. “You’re begging for my cock, dirty boy?”

  The tone of his voice would have been enough to send Griffith’s mind into a spin, but the show of force had Griffith barely hanging on to sanity, with lust soaking into the fabric of his brain to create a new, exciting pattern.

  “Yes. Fuck me hard. Come inside me. I need it so fucking much.”

  Mark nipped on Griff’s jaw and his nails dug into Griff’s ass. There would be no more slow motions or mercy. Mark started fucking Griff’s wide open hole fast and to the point, making him whine and tighten his thighs when the pressure became almost too intense.

  “I should tie you up with those silks when I’m done and leave you dripping cum onto the floor for everyone to see that you’re no innocent.”

  Mark’s words were like a squeeze to Griff’s balls—edging the line between hurtful and arousing in a way that made his cock bead with precum. “Oh yes. I want to be marked by you,” Griffith moaned, thrashing in Mark’s arms. He was so desperate to come his cock was starting to make him mad, and yet he had no means of touching himself.

  “No need. You know your place already.” Mark grinned and sucked on Griff’s neck with such ferocity he surely left behind a hickey, but with the way he pushed his cock in time and time again, Griff didn’t even care anymore. He used to be so intimidated by the perspective of having sex with another man—afraid of the vulnerability of giving away control, of the potential inadequacy, and indiscretion—but here he was, taking and giving pleasure without a sliver of inhibition.

  Mark let go of Griff’s ass with one hand, and it meant Griff had to hold on to the silk harder, but Mark’s slippery hand wrapping around Griff’s cock paid for that extra effort twice over.

  Caught between the warm fist and Mark’s cock penetrating his insides, Griffith used the leverage of fabric and the hold he had on Mark’s body to move in between, galloping on the back of pleasure faster and faster the closer he was to the finish line.

  The sensations washing over him enticed him to close his eyes, but with Mark so close—damp with sweat, with hair plastered to his forehead, a healthy flush on the muscular chest—he couldn’t bring himself to just let go, in awe of the stone-hard abs powering Mark’s thrusts.

  Mark moaned against Griff’s neck, sending delicious vibrations up his ear. His hand kept working Griff’s cock so fast it was making them both breathless, but the heat exploding in Griffith’s body and the tremors shaking Mark’s muscles meant one thing. Mark thrust in a final time, and Griffith pulled him even closer with his legs, shuddering with pleasure as Mark’s cum pumped straight into him.

  Griffith pushed back, eyes wide when he caught Mark’s gaze. “Go on. I’m all yours. You feel so fucking good,” he whispered, sensing the irresistible warmth melting his insides. Seconds later, his back arched into a bow when his balls tightened, and his sperm splashed all over his chest like celebratory champagne.

  Holding on to the silks was becoming too difficult, but Griffith trusted Mark to hold him up if his muscles weakened. They were entwined in a perfect tangle of limbs—sweaty, cum-soaked, and trembling, but Griff couldn’t care less. Not about the hickeys, not about the bruises he’d undoubtedly sport on his wrists and arms tomorrow. Mark was his, he was Mark’s, and they’d be moving in together. Nothing would stop Griff from reaching for his dreams when Mark was there to hold him up.

  He eventually put his legs down, but they were so weak he ended up supporting himself with the silks until the controlled collapse to the floor. “That was close. I avoided homelessness by being irresistible,” he said, still drunk on their closeness. Mark got them some tissues, but then lay on the floor next to Griff and squeezed his hand with a deep exhale. “Are you my sugar baby now?”

  Griffith gently slapped his chest but didn’t hesitate and went in for a kiss right away. “No! Don’t be like that. I’ll get a job and pay my bills,” he said, rubbing his mouth over Mark’s scruffy chin.

  Once his things were moved to Mark’s place he would have to get a job. He would have to train, and apply for schools, study, and work? How did anyone manage to do it all at once? He thought he wouldn’t have to work until at least later in his twenties. How did one even go about looking for a job?

  “Unless you wanna give homelessness a shot. I could give you some tips.” Mark snorted, but this wasn’t funny at all.

  Chapter 25 - Griffith

  The minimum wage was ridiculous. How could people possibly survive doing jobs that paid so little? Griffith was one of the lucky ones who didn’t have to pay rent—and that only because Mark refused to take money from him from the get-go. Griffith had been cross with him at first, but once his first ever pay came through, he never raised the topic again. Money was one of the very few unmentionable things in their relationship, and as embarrassed as that made Griffith, he allowed Mark to pay most of the bills for the apartment and pay for their shopping whenever they went out together for the past two months.

  And still, he found himself struggling. While Mark’s rather empty sitting room could serve as a dancing space, it wasn’t enough for Griff’s needs, so he paid to use space at a local studio. Then there were personal necessities, the phone bill, the exam costs that needed to be paid in advance, and even though he managed to still save a bit each week through controlling all current costs, it was dawning on him more and more heavily that he might not be able to afford school without help.

  Who’d come up with this system? Not everyone had a safety net to fall back on or parents who supported them. And since Griffith had to juggle work and all the preparation for his exams, he could only do so many hours. Between all the things he needed to take care of, free time was hard to come by, and he soon found himself living a life without a single day in the week that he could truy call his time off. It was exhausting. Somehow, a couple of hours waiting tables left him more achy than dancing ever had, but the mental strain of never being able to truly relax was so much worse.

  And the patrons were the worst! While most seemed like decent people, and Griff had been initially happy that he wouldn’t have to deal with a drunken crowd in his workplace, posh sober people with polite accents could be a handful as well. He’d known as much before, but being around such people and having to adhere to their wishes were two different things. And the worst thing was that in the past he might have done some of the annoying things he was now subjected to. Now that he was on the other side of the money-for-service equation, the sums exchanged seemed less than fair.

  So he had a nice uniform and often received tips, but the manager was an uptight bitch, who often lied to his face about the impossibility of adjusting schedules, because she was too lazy to look into them when she could spend some time chatting to the head waiter. Their daily staff meetings felt
like elementary school, with the manager in the role of an incompetent and naive teacher who believed the waiters and cooks had the brainpower of goldfish.

  Actually, that was the worst bit. Not the rude and demanding patrons, not the pay, but having to work under someone who had incredibly narrow horizons—yet thought of themselves very highly. Most of the waiters were dedicated to their jobs, even those for whom this was just a temporary way to pay the bills. As far as Griffith was concerned, he would have done a better job managing staff than their actual manager. But he needed to keep his job, so he smiled and nodded when she’d come in this morning and introduced concepts, that every person with half a brain should understand, as if they were revelations. She then spent even more time boasting about the weekend managerial course she did.

  The last hour of his shift was always most pleasant, particularly when he started in the morning and didn’t have to participate in the hustle and bustle of closing the restaurant. With only thirty minutes remaining, Griffith happily strolled through the airy interior of the brasserie, all the way to a booth surrounded by large potted plants for privacy. The two women who sat there had been quite openly eyeing him throughout their meal, and while this wasn’t all that unusual, the prosecco they’d had with their afternoon tea made them a lot bolder. What had started as discreet glances progressed to giggles and open flirting, and while he hoped his politeness could earn him a large tip, he couldn’t wait to send them on their way.

  “There you are, Griffith,” chirped the blonde lady who’d earlier introduced herself as Jane. The half bottle of prosecco she’d had must have been way over her limit, because her manners were long gone. She now had both her elbows on the table, and her shirt definitely used to be buttoned up way higher, since it was now opened to show a glimpse of a green bra.

  Her friend, Victoria, chuckled and bit her thumb, finding it all very amusing. “Aww, don’t do this to him. Don’t you see he’s still a boy?

  Jane pouted and ignored the bill Griffith set down in front of her. “Stop it. You’re embarrassing him now.”

  This was the moment where Griffith would ordinarily ask how they wanted to pay, but his training hadn’t touched upon getting out of this kind of trouble. He could technically ask one of the waitresses to deal with this for him, but he really needed that tip.

  “Don’t worry, I’m not so easily embarrassed. What counts is that you enjoyed your visit here.”

  Victoria made a face at Jane. “Aww, isn’t he precious?”

  This charade continued for a bit more, with Griffith finally receiving the card payment during which Jane ‘accidentally’ touched his hand. Once the two women left, Griffith found a phone number and a lipstick stain on the back of the bill, which somehow made him feel dirty about the tip.

  He was halfway through the room when his eyes were drawn to a familiar figure sitting at a small table by the window.

  “Oh, no you don’t. He’s mine.” Bianca laughed and nudged Griff with her elbow in passing. She’d only started working here last week, so she didn’t know Mark was Griff’s boyfriend. Or Griff’s ‘friend’ for that matter, because Griff hadn’t yet decided whether he wanted to come out at work. Freezing with the tray full of dirty glasses, he followed her with his gaze, but as annoyed as this situation made him, he figured it wasn’t that big of a deal and left the dishes in the kitchen before emerging in the main room again. His eyes darted to Mark’s table.

  To his amazement, Bianca was still there. Tossing her curly hair from side to side, with a hand on her hip, she was still chatting to Mark. Not taking an order, not explaining anything about the menu (which Mark knew very well by now). Chatting. What did she think she was doing? This wasn’t a bar.

  But while Bianca’s behavior Griffith could explain, it unnerved him that Mark wasn’t making an effort to find him, and just sat there with a wide smile. At one point, he reached up and patted Bianca’s arm.

  Oh, no, he didn’t!

  Griffith walked that way before he could even think it through. A customer raised his hand and leaned forward, trying to catch Griffith’s attention, but he chose to pretend he didn’t see the gesture and stopped only once he reached Mark’s table.

  He had no plans beyond that, so he stood still, suddenly out of breath and awkwardly staring at both Bianca and Mark.

  Mark looked up at him, as if he had nothing to hide, and Bianca raised her eyebrows.

  “Is everything all right?” she asked.

  Griffith took a deep breath, flustered. And then he did the one thing that came to his mind and put his hand on Mark’s, squeezing it that bit too hard. “Hi, babe. I’ll be off soon.

  Do you want anything?”

  He could physically feel the stillness Bianca exuded next to him, but his focus was on Mark, his growing smile and the way he squeezed Griff’s hand in return. “Flat white and three macaroons. Whichever flavor. You choose.”

  Bianca laughed, but it sounded a bit awkward, music to Griffith’s ears. “Guess you don’t need me to take the order then. Nice meeting you,” she said and walked off.

  Griffith’s lungs burned, and as happy as it made him to be the last person standing in this contest, this was not how he’d wanted to come out at work. His eyes met Mark’s, and he frowned at him without a word.

  “So you finally decided to tell your colleagues? Am I understanding this correctly?” Mark asked, rubbing his thumb over Griff’s hand, as if he’d done nothing out of the ordinary.

  “I’m understanding you flirted with my colleague,” Griffith said, trying to hide the nervous throb inside him. Sure, one of the waitresses was gay, and literally no one cared, but he wasn’t sure he was ready yet to open up about his sexuality. Or maybe he was—otherwise he wouldn’t have outed himself over something so petty. He wanted answers regardless.

  Mark blinked at him, looking like an innocent man—something he most definitely wasn’t. “No, we were just talking about our gym routines.”

  “Really? I’m watching you.”

  Mark snorted. “Okay, maybe I was a bit too friendly, but a man’s gotta make sure the staff don’t spit in his coffee, right?”

  “Watching you,” Griffith repeated before walking off with molten lead in his chest. The two pairs of eyes watching him from behind the counter told him news was spreading fast.

  Oh, Goddamnit. Couldn’t this be a busier day, so that people had something more to do than gossip?

  As soon as he was out of Mark’s sight, Bianca pulled him by the arm behind the coffee machine. “Why didn’t you tell me? I’m so embarrassed.”

  As much as he disliked confrontation, sometimes it was better to just disperse the tension right away. He sighed. “I’m sorry. You walked too fast. And it’s fine, I know he flirts with everyone,” he said, even though he very much hoped Mark didn’t actually do that. So it was a bit mean. Big deal.

  Bianca pouted, stepping back. “I guess you can make his coffee yourself then.”

  Of course he could. He’d gotten so good at making coffee since he’d moved in with Mark that he was positive he could deliver way better quality of the espresso than Bianca. In the time it took him to make the flat white and pick the macaroons, the gossip had spread like mites in kindergarten, and when Griffith walked off to deliver Mark his food, five people discreetly watched his every move. He was tempted to ask them to pay for their tickets to the show.

  Mark looked a bit more classy than usual today, so handsome in the black turtleneck and dark gray suit jacket combo it was hard to stay mad at him.

  “Did you spit in it?” Mark asked with a silly smile.

  Griffith put the coffee and plate in front of him before catching his gaze. “You will never know.”

  Mark leaned a bit closer and lowered his voice. “I swallow your cum. What’s a little spit, right?”

  Why did he have to be so sexy? It was unbearable how charming Mark could be when he cared to. Even now, regardless of the crude language or the earlier flirting with Bianca, Gr
iff was ready to sit in his lap and make out for hours.

  He stared back at Mark while the world around him moved on. He lost that battle. “You are going to swallow more of it tonight.”

  Mark bit back a smile and put a whole macaroon in his mouth. “Oh, no!”

  “Horrible fate, I know. Now wait here and think of what you’ve done.”

  “No! Not corner time.” Mark burst out laughing, but Griff was already walking off. He still had to deal with a few minor things before leaving.

  He managed to dodge any uncomfortable questions in the staff room as he changed, but that was likely only because everyone would have found it too rude to ask him questions about his sexuality. Instead, they gossiped, like all polite people did.

  It was odd just how little Griffith cared about the restaurant staff knowing that he was gay. It had seemed like such a big deal before, but now that the word was out, he couldn’t find it in himself to stress about it. Coming out felt like being able to breathe without restriction.

  He wore the coat Mark had given him for Christmas every day, and after a very necessary dry-cleaning that followed his weeklong pity-party back in December, the garment was good as new.

  When Mark spotted him, he left some cash on the table and stood up, joining Griffith by the door.

  “Out of your naughty corner already?” Griffith asked.

  “Didn’t I get enough time out?” Mark stroked Griff’s back, as if he wanted to acknowledge Griffith’s claim on him in front of everyone.

  Despite his earlier annoyance, Griffith put his arm across Mark’s back and placed his hand on his hip. That was a lot of PDA, he knew, but he was eighteen, with his first boyfriend, and he didn’t give a fuck anymore that seeing them hug could make some people uncomfortable. At least in this area of town, the likelihood of anyone actually confronting them was as slim as Griffith’s chances to become a lawyer.

  “I think you still need to grovel.”

  “How about taking you out to movies and dinner?”