Question Mark

by Culpepper, S. E.

  Zane stroked up and down as his mouth and tongue wandered Mark’s stomach, weaving a hot, wet line to the tip of his cock still concealed by fabric. He closed his mouth over it and tightened his grip at the same time.

  “Fuhhhh—” Mark’s shout was cut off as Zane moved to jerk down the briefs and take him in fully. Leaving one hand to grip the base and milk the full response out of Mark, Zane sucked, kissed, and teased with his tongue to the point that Mark’s body was a taught cord in front of him, his hands on Zane’s head acting as a guide as they rocked toward one another in perfect rhythm.

  Mark was panting when he abruptly pushed Zane away and kicked out of his shoes, jeans and underwear. All at once, he was naked in front of Zane, the light tan that he had in Bora Bora already fading into that luscious fair skin that reminded Zane of smooth marble. The dark hair on Mark’s chest and his proud, glistening cock had Zane sweating.

  Oh hell… Oh fuck.

  Sensing the challenge in Mark’s stance, Zane reached behind his head and pulled off his own shirt with slow intent. He watched as Mark sank to his knees in front of him and removed his shoes and socks for him. When Mark’s hands clasped around the band of his sweats, Zane dutifully lifted his hips and let his tongue dart out of his mouth to wet his lips. Mark moaned at the sight and never took his eyes from Zane’s face even as the pants slid further down his legs to reveal his readied body.

  When they were both free of clothing, Mark finally looked away and let his eyes travel. Zane felt that gaze the same way he would a touch. He didn’t have much hair and he was darker than Mark, but they complimented one another and it was clear that skin-to-skin they could move together perfectly. In sync.

  Zane wouldn’t have thought he’d have the energy left in him to do it, but with the need to feel Mark against him, he dragged the man up onto the couch until he was straddling Zane’s hips. His ass was tight against Zane, trapping his cock between them, and Mark drove his hips forward over the sensitive shaft, sending a lightning bolt through Zane and making him buck upwards.

  Mark lowered his head and captured Zane’s lips. He plunged his tongue deeply as his body kept thrusting, that delicious sensation making Zane hard to bursting. As Mark’s tongue worked its magic, Zane reached between them and rounded his palm over Mark’s head, using his thumb to swipe across the tip. He brought his thumb to their joined mouths and pushed it between Mark’s lips. Both their tongues swirled over the salted flavor and Zane hissed when Mark bit down, imprisoning him in the moist heat of his mouth as he sucked.

  Mark was with another man. He lied.

  With his free hand Zane grabbed a handful of Mark’s hair and jerked his head back. Mark gasped in pain-edged surprise and released Zane’s thumb. He waited for what Zane would do to him, pulse throbbing in his exposed throat and his body shining in the low light. Zane traced that fluttering line beneath Mark’s skin and ran a finger into the hollow at the base of his throat before he grasped a hold of his neck just tightly enough to get Mark’s attention.

  Zane brought his lips to the other man’s ear and bit the lobe meaningfully. “You. Were. Mine,” he growled deeply. Mark tried to move but Zane’s hold was firm. “You were fucking mine and you let him touch you.”

  The tears were back and as they seeped between Zane’s lids to flow unchecked down his cheeks, he released Mark to look at him, to show him what he’d done. Mark’s eyes were also wet and he silently kissed Zane’s tears away.

  “I was never…ever…his,” he finally murmured, his hips beginning to thrust once more as Zane clutched Mark’s ass, guiding him. Any other words died away as he found his rhythm on top of Zane, his own cock jutting between them. Their movements together created a mouthwatering friction that had their blood pumping and their bodies heating and dripping in sweat.

  Zane licked at Mark’s chest and pushed back to give himself room to touch that weeping shaft, stiff as a steel pipe. He stroked and squeezed, watching as Mark grew closer and closer to coming. Zane sensed his own orgasm rising from the seat of his balls, the hot tingle rising past the base of his cock. Mark’s body rocked against him wildly and when his dick jerked in Zane’s grip, he forced Mark to look into his eyes.

  “Fucking say it.” Zane growled. Mark made a noise akin to a whimper as his body went taut. “Whose are you? Fucking say it now!”

  Mark choked on his answer as he erupted, the warm fluid washing over Zane’s stomach and chest as he held onto the fragile threads of his own control. “Yours, Zane,” he hissed. “Only yours.”

  The admission acted as a live wire in Zane’s body and he jacked up off the couch, carrying Mark as the electric sensation ripped through him. He came in waves that stole the last of his strength and had him collapsing back on the couch cushions with a muffled groan.

  The roughness—the fight of the whole experience—faded little by little until he was sagging against Mark and waiting. His breath hitched. Had he been too forceful? Was Mark leaving him? Was this some kind of horrible pity fuck?

  The pain and stress of the previous days broke over him and he shuddered, pulling Mark against him tightly. He had to hold him while he still could.

  “Mark…” he breathed. “I…”

  “Shhh… I’m here.” Zane heard the answer whispered in his ear and he lost it. Mark wrapped him in his arms and held him as everything but the hurt faded away.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Mark’s stomach was tied in knots. No eye contact and barely a word had been spoken between the two of them. This was a very bad sign, he knew. He wasn’t foolish enough to believe that what they’d just done together was a cure all. But passionate? Yes. Rough? Yes. Better than Mark had dreamed? Hell yes. Except they weren’t curled up happily together in post-sex bliss. Rather, there was what seemed like a growing chasm between them full of unspoken accusations.

  Mark knew Zane was stronger than him; he even knew the man was filled to brimming with energy and heat, but he didn’t expect all of that to be spilled over him so intensely. He wanted to be thrilled that they were finally together again, that he’d been able to touch Zane the way he wanted to for so long, but the pain he saw in Zane and the rough anger in his actions made that impossible. Mark still had to explain what happened with Christian and a sexual intermission didn’t erase that. Until Mark told him everything, Zane was going to keep up the silent treatment.

  How was he supposed to dive into the explanation though? “Listen, about that kiss caught by an army of photographers…”

  It was clear that Zane was angry with himself for letting his emotions get the best of him. Mark had held onto him, never wanting to let go, cradling his dark head to his chest and trailing little kisses over his temples and his hair. Mark whispered how much he cared and how sorry he was, but the words of forgiveness he prayed for never came. In the end, Zane gently pushed Mark off of his lap and used his own t-shirt to clean both of them off. He wouldn’t meet Mark’s eyes. When he finished, he wadded up the shirt and tossed it in a laundry bag by the door and mumbled that he was going to take a shower.

  Now Mark was waiting around in his jeans, feeling sticky, sweaty, and unhappy. Zane had been in the shower for fifteen minutes now and he showed no sign of coming back out.

  You should go in there, Mark told himself. Force him to look at you. Force him to talk or at least hear you out.

  He stood with a burst of speed, deciding he was right and now was his chance, and then the water shut off. He instantly flopped back down on the couch like a coward, landing right on top of the “crime scene evidence.” Mark jerked away from the couch and into the arm chair. There was still only the single light straining to brighten the room, so Mark looked like he was lurking in the shadows à la Hannibal Lecter, albeit a shirtless, gay Hannibal. Hello, Clarice.

  The door finally creaked open and Zane came out in just a towel—oh fantastic—stopping short when he didn’t see Mark. He let out a juicy curse and stalked toward the door of the suite, hellfire burning in his eyes
, which sort of gave Mark hope.

  “I’m still here,” he called out, standing as Zane whirled back his way. The anger in his expression dimmed, but the rest of Zane’s body didn’t get the memo. He was wound tight with stress and acted as though he wanted to say something more, but instead just jerked his thumb toward the bathroom and mumbled, “It’s open.”

  “Can we please talk?” Mark pleaded, lifting his hands toward Zane in entreaty.

  Zane’s eyes danced away from him and Mark didn’t like it. Stalking across the room, he grabbed Zane’s chin and forced his head around. “Hey!” Those blue eyes glittered in the half-light and that same resentment pulsed to the forefront. “Let me explain, please?”

  There was a too-long moment that Mark thought Zane might not let him say a word. He saw the possibility lurking, but then Zane let out a long breath like he was giving up.

  “I don’t generally act like such a jealous, possessive, overbearing guy, Mark. I never have, actually. I’ve left myself open to you from the beginning and asked you for one thing: honesty. You knew how I felt about Christian, but I didn’t stop you from seeing him. I hoped like hell you would call me when you got home because I’m just insecure enough to need that.”

  Mark started to speak but Zane shot him a glare and his mouth snapped back shut.

  “You knew this kid was after you; you always have. Tell me I’m wrong,” said Zane. There was a silent I dare you tacked on.

  “He’s been a friend. I-I wanted to believe that we could get together and have a nice dinner without any expectations beyond that.”

  Zane sneered in disbelief, taking a step back. “Wanted to believe? You knew what would happen. Christian wants you and you’re going through a tough time. Do you think I didn’t see that you needed a shoulder to cry on?—that maybe you were blaming me a little bit for your circumstances—and with perfect timing, here was this guy who would tell you what you wanted to hear. You sit down with him and I bet your problems with me balloon. Christian’s there to kindly point that out and while you’re buying it, he’s moving right along with his agenda.

  “I asked you to talk to me. To let me be there for you because I’ve considered you my man this whole fucking time. You wouldn’t do it though, Mark. You go to him when anything you needed was here,” Zane thumped a hand against his chest. “I offered to fly you here. I offered to try to be with you. You said no. You said now’s not a good time.”

  Mark’s mouth had dropped back open and he finally understood how much damage he’d done. He wasn’t sure he could fix this. He could explain every single detail of what happened at that dinner with Christian, but it didn’t change any of the cold, hard facts. Mark had gone to that dinner knowing there would be come-ons, thinking he would dodge them because he cared so much for Zane, when a part of him he didn’t want to acknowledge was preening because he was about to see how much another person wanted him when he hadn’t seen Zane in weeks.

  Mark was pissed at the time. He’d been pissed for days before that night. All because the guy he wanted to be with was in another country working—and only working, not seeing someone else. Some immature part of him was punishing Zane for the separation. Oh, leave me here alone? Well I’ll just have dinner with a guy who’s going out of his way to see me.

  Mark was such a fucking loser. A selfish, dramatic asshole of a loser. What was this?—his third “awakening” this week? This whole routine was getting pretty tired. One second Mark thought he was making progress, the next he realized he was just discovering new ways to be a dickhead. It’s like he kept finding deeper levels of sludge to add to his personality. Zane deserved better than this. He really did.

  When Mark told him so, he could tell he’d surprised him. “I’m not kidding. You seem to know me better than I know myself, but you don’t have everything right about that night, Zane.” At Zane’s skeptical frown, he continued. “Of course he flirted, you’re right on that end, but he did it all to turn attention away from himself, it’s his defense mechanism. Honestly. He also told me to stop being a hypocrite because I was doing everything perfectly if my goal was to lose you. I thought I was letting you and me happen—giving us a chance. But…I guess he knew I was running scared.”

  “He knew,” Zane jabbed. “He knew, not me. With me, you’re too busy talking around what’s really going on and I knew it after we got off the phone Sunday. You agreed to tell me the truth about you, but you spit game better than anyone I’ve ever met. One minute you’re waxing poetic with all these self-realizations and desires to be different, and the next, you’re meeting up with a man who’d trample his granny to get into your pants. And come on, flirting as a defense mechanism? Was that before or after he super glued himself to your mouth? I have no doubt you’d be a good friend to him, but I also know it’s nice to be wanted and that’s always been your weakness. You don’t think anyone wants you because your whole life you’ve gone after hard-to-get assholes.”

  Okay. So. Big ouch. Mark didn’t even know how to tackle all that, but Zane wasn’t finished anyhow.

  “I wanted you, Mark. From the fucking first moment I saw you in that goddamned shuttle boat. I wanted to talk to you, hear your voice, and see your eyes behind your sunglasses. I wanted dinner with you. I wanted a relationship with you. I wanted to touch you and make love to you. All of it. I wanted all of it.”

  Wanted. Past tense. Mark sensed the panic rising in his chest. He had to find a way to salvage this right now. He was losing Zane…just like Christian said he would.

  “I wanted you, too,” he whispered, then tried to clear the waver from his voice. “I-I was shocked to even get to meet you. You were so…different…than I thought you could be. Gorgeous, too. But, you’re this star and I—”

  “I’m a man, Mark!” Zane hollered, seeming to steal the oxygen from the room. “I’m not this job! I have a heart and feelings. I eat and drink; go to the bathroom. I get sick. I gain weight and lose it. I am just like you. Fuck. Why can’t you get that through your head?”

  Mark stared and felt his whole soul just sag. “You’re an amazing man, though. You’re a better man. I’m a screwed up mess.”

  “Welcome to the world, Mark! Everybody has their own shit to deal with. I could dive in with my own load of baggage from the past. Maybe talk about how I stay up nights wondering if the father that died when I was little would even talk to his fag son if he were alive. Everybody has their own shit. Do you realize we’ve known each other just a month? It took me a fraction of that time to decide that I’d take you any way I could get you, screwed up mess or not. You think this is all about a bullshit kiss in some parking lot? Open your eyes!”

  Mark was standing still but his body was shaking like he was running full tilt. Never ever had a man he’d been with read him so easily or called him on crap so quickly—once when they were back in Bakersfield at his brother’s house and again now. Zane saw right through him to those habits and mistakes Mark so wanted to keep close to his chest. He had to play it safe with love; living under constant public scrutiny would do that to a guy.

  “I don’t know what to say to make this better, Zane,” he finally spoke, his voice rife with confusion as he finally saw how thoroughly he’d sabotaged this relationship. “And I want to make it better more than anything. You may not believe it, but I didn’t ask or want Christian to kiss me. I hate that I wanted his attention and that I saw him to…test you—though I wasn’t thinking that was what I was doing at the time. The truth is, and I swear this on my family, the most important people in my life aside from you, that before he even touched me I wanted nothing more than to be a world away from him and with you. Those pictures in the paper…” he paused and swallowed. “…they’re misleading. I was grabbing his wrists to push him away. God’s honest truth. It was two seconds max. I swear. The photographers followed us and took those shots at the perfectly wrong moment. I beg you to believe me.”

  Zane had paced away to the French doors that led to a balcony where h
e’d stopped to listen. He kept his back turned and in the dim light, Mark couldn’t see his reflection in the glass. Zane’s body was tense and utterly distracting. The sun-darkened skin covered strong muscles that tapered down his back to an ass that was barely covered. Zane’s arms and legs were strong and cut. His skin smooth. He was the most amazing man Mark had ever been with—and not just physically.

  Mark was completely terrified this was the end, even though he absolutely deserved to be kicked out.

  “The second I got home,” Mark murmured, “I called my parents and told them everything. They’re furious with me, but it didn’t stop them from helping me get a ticket out of Albuquerque the next day. There were all these delays, a tropical storm on the east coast, and I didn’t fly out of New York until early this morning. I knew I should call, but I didn’t think you’d talk to me.” Mark was blabbering but was unable to stop until the whole mortifying mess was out.

  “The magazines and the papers were everywhere in the airports—people were taking out their camera phones and taking pictures of me all the time—like, ‘There’s the asshole who stabbed Zane Whitlow in the back.’ I could only imagine what you’d be seeing and hearing so I called Jenny hoping she would help me out.”

  Zane’s head dropped and he entwined his fingers behind his neck. His shoulder muscles rippled beautifully. Leave it to Mark to think about sex during one of the most important conversations in his life.

  “I’ll pay your parents back for the ticket,” Zane murmured.

  “Zane, that’s not why I—”

  “I’m paying them back,” he snapped, dropping his hands and facing Mark again, his expression unreadable.