Marco inhaled slowly, bracing for complete honesty. Adam was listening; but this new place they'd reached offered just as many chances to fuck things up worse. Marco had never been great at expressing himself with words. Action, invention, those were things he knew how to do. He needed Adam for the rest.
But Marco needed to do this. He was the one who had bent everything askew in the first place, and damned if he intended to waste the chance to fix it. He might not be sure what a romantic relationship between them would look like, but more than anything he wanted to find out.
Because Zoe was right. Marco had been falling in love with Adam for years. He couldn't believe he hadn't seen it, but the truth was painfully obvious to him now. Twenty-twenty hindsight. He just needed to prove he hadn't lost his mind. Adam was too stubborn to accept anything but the soundest reasoning, even in matters of the heart.
By some miracle there was no sign of impatience on Adam's face. Apparently, having agreed to hear Marco out, he was willing to allow as much time as Marco needed to find the right words.
Marco didn't have the right words, and he wasn't likely to find them anytime soon. He would have to settle for clumsy honesty and pray it would be enough.
"I know I'm an idiot. And I know how crazy this sounds coming out of nowhere. But I really am in love with you."
One of Adam's eyebrows inched high on his forehead, painting his expression dubious.
"I'm a little late to the party, but I know what I'm talking about," Marco pressed. "God, Adam, there is literally no one who means as much to me as you do." Even his own family took a close but decisive second place, an order of priorities that hadn't changed in years. Marco honestly couldn't believe it hadn't been enough to tip him off about his own feelings.
"That doesn't mean you're in love with me." Adam's reasonable tone was belied by the faint spark of hope in his eyes.
"You were right when you called me out before. It wasn't just sex. It wasn't just anything."
Marco hesitated then, not sure how much candor was too much.
Fuck it. He was already in over his head. There was no point trying to soften his own blunt edges.
"I have plenty of intimate friends," he said, putting pointed emphasis on the last word. "And as long as I know they're being as clean and careful with everyone else as they are with me, I don't give a damn who they sleep with. But you? The second I touched you, I knew sharing you would kill me. Forgive me for not understanding what that meant." There was nothing snide in his plea for forgiveness. He meant the words in complete earnest. His lack of comprehension was what got their signals crossed in the first place, and he genuinely craved absolution for a cluelessness so thick Marco barely believed it himself.
Adam's expression had taken a turn for the incredulous during Marco's speech. "You realize this is exactly the opposite of what you said in my office."
"I know." Marco's face heated, but no amount of embarrassment could staunch his confession now. "I was in denial. And I was worried you'd freak out if I went possessive Neanderthal on you after one liaison."
"And now?"
"Now I'm still a little worried about freaking you out," Marco admitted sheepishly. "But there's no point lying to both of us when I finally know what I want."
They stared at each other for a long time. The silence in the kitchen took on a different flavor now, like a low rumble of potential filling the shadows. Marco wanted to touch Adam—maybe kiss him again—but he held his ground. This was too important, and too tenuous, and the next move wasn't his to make.
"What do you want?" Adam asked with startling gravity.
Marco didn't let himself think. "You and me. Seeing where this takes us."
Tentative hope was uncurling in his chest, and for a moment he forgot to breathe. When he remembered, he found Adam's expression had crept maddeningly close to a smile.
"So?" Marco's pulse ricocheted faster with a surge of hope. "Are we good?" It was as close as he would come to begging Adam for reassurance that they were finally on the same page. Marco wouldn't take anything for granted now.
In a dizzying instant, the faint smile on Adam's face turned up to full wattage, and the anxious anticipation around Marco's heart loosened all at once.
"Yes," Adam said. "We're good."
Thank God, Marco thought, or maybe he said the words out loud. He honestly couldn't be sure. He was too distracted by the wild rush of relief that hit him with Adam's words.
Quick as that Adam was in Marco's space, kissing him, hard and greedy like the very first time. Like every prayer Marco had wrapped around himself on his drive from Zoe's doorstep. Marco could feel Adam's smile against his mouth, felt a shiver of laughter where Adam pressed close.
Marco didn't mind being laughed at. He reached for Adam and held tight. Adam was welcome to find his shameless desperation amusing, as long as he kept right on doing such clever things with his tongue.
When the kiss ended and Adam drew back, Marco had only a fraction of a second to harbor disappointment. Then, sudden and graceful, Adam dropped to the floor. He knelt at Marco's feet, and his posture was blatant invitation.
There was heat in Adam's eyes, and a hunger that sent Marco's blood rushing south. His dick, already interested in the proceedings, hardened against the seam of his pants. There was a glint of teasing warmth in Adam's eyes, too. And then, a moment later—meeting the winded hope in Marco's stare—a lightness that hadn't been there before Marco's confession.
Marco realized then just how far he'd fallen, and he didn't mind at all.
"Just so we're clear." Adam smoothed his hands along Marco's thighs, palms warm through dark fabric. "You're not the only one who gets to be possessive. If we're doing this, it's just you and me. None of your other lovers."
"Deal," Marco said, and it was a promise as somber as any he'd ever given in his life.
When Adam took him in, Marco's knees nearly buckled at the perfect slide of wet heat along his cock. Never mind that he had braced himself, taut with anticipation as Adam opened his fly. And never mind that Marco had experienced more than his share of blow jobs.
This was different—this was Adam—and it turned out Adam ways very, very good at this.
Adam was also a complete tease. There was nothing quick about the way he worked Marco's length, his hands and mouth carrying Marco to the edge of orgasm and keeping him there for a maddening eternity. That clever tongue—fuck—how was Marco supposed to focus on anything else ever again? He groaned, noisy and shameless, when Adam bobbed low and swallowed deep. He was desperate to come now, half out of his mind with need, so close—
Marco clutched at the counter behind him, not just for support. More than anything he wanted to thread his fingers through the soft strands of Adam's hair, already mussed from sleep. But he didn't trust himself to keep the touch gentle, to let Adam guide the pace. It would be too tempting—too easy—to grab firmer hold and simply take, to fuck Adam's mouth straight to the orgasm just out of reach.
A niggling instinct at the back of Marco's thoughts said Adam might be onboard for a rougher ride, but now wasn't the moment to test his theory. This was Adam's gambit, and his offering; Marco's only choice was to ride out the delicious torment.
Even the most perfect torture couldn't last forever. Finally, surely sensing Marco couldn't hold back any longer, Adam drew him even deeper. Marco groaned at the sensation of Adam's throat taking his entire length, swallowing his orgasm while strong hands gripped his hips. Now Marco twisted his fingers in Adam's hair, holding on for life and sanity, helpless to do anything but come.
He slumped against the counter after, the marble edge digging into his backside as his body went loose and languid. His touch softened, and he stroked dazed fingers through Adam's hair before letting go.
Adam sat back on his heels, wiping one hand across his mouth, and his eyes were pure fire. Still on his knees, thighs spread, it was impossible to miss the fact that Adam hadn't touched himself while bringing Marco off.
Arousal tented the soft fabric of Adam's sweats, and Marco's mouth watered at the sight. He was still getting used to the idea that this gorgeous view wasn't a fluke. Adam on his knees—Adam beneath his hands—Adam watching him with lust-clouded eyes that said he knew exactly what Marco was thinking. This belonged to him now. The idea made his chest feel warm and light.
"Come on." Adam rose from the floor, not quite masking a grimace as he straightened sore legs. Marco's own knees gave a faint twinge in sympathy, even as Adam's expression smoothed into a soft, genuine smile. "Let's take this to the bedroom so you can return the favor."
Marco nodded, still without the power of words. He had every intention of returning the favor with interest. Adam took his hand and guided him from the kitchen, down the hall toward the bedroom.
Reeling—giddy and sated—Marco allowed himself to be led.
*~*~*
He woke in Adam's bed, warm and groggy and completely content. Even in sleep he'd apparently held Adam squashed possessively in his arms, holding on so tightly the residual heat had made them kick the covers aside. Now there was only this, two bodies wrapped around each other in the cool air of Adam's bedroom, steady breathing in the quiet.
It wasn't yet sunrise. Adam's face was tucked to Marco's shoulder. There was something disarmingly perfect in the way his smaller frame fit in the circle of Marco's arms.
"Good morning." Adam drew back, apparently already awake and waiting for Marco to catch up. He withdrew only far enough to meet Marco's eyes, making no attempt whatsoever to extricate himself from the tight embrace. His voice was rough around the edges and thick with sleep, and he blinked like he couldn't quite believe the sight of Marco in his bed.
If Adam had looked sleep-tousled last night, he looked even better now. Rumpled and debauched, with his hair in wild disarray from both sleep and the careless touch of Marco's fingers. He wore a scattering of hickeys that Marco had kissed shamelessly into the base of his throat, low enough that Adam's tie and shirt collar would disguise them from prying eyes. Much as Marco liked the idea of making it obvious Adam was a taken commodity, this thing between them was new and thrilling and no one else's business.
Marco felt abruptly, fiercely, devastatingly happy, and he let the feeling show with a shark-like smile.
"You slept well, then." Fond humor ran in an undercurrent beneath Adam's dry tone.
"Beautifully." Marco's smile softened a fraction, and he leaned close to press a greeting kiss to Adam's temple. "Good morning, gorgeous."
Adam breathed a pleased sound. When Marco retreated, there was a spark of satisfied warmth in Adam's eyes.
"Do you have plans today?" Marco asked. He wanted to lie here at least three more hours, dozing and catching up on the sleep he had deprived them both of last night. He wanted to keep Adam close in his arms.
Adam laughed—a lovely, startled sound—and stared incredulously at him. "Marco, it's Thursday. We both have work. We have a company to run, remember?"
The idea of driving downtown and sitting in his office—even the idea of working in the labs—seemed untenable, and Marco protested, "We own the company. It's not like anyone can discipline us for violating the attendance policy." Then nudging closer and pressing a kiss beneath Adam's jaw, "Besides, when's the last time you called in sick?"
Adam hummed approvingly, and for a moment Marco was sure he'd won. Then Adam's alarm clock beeped, a harsh electronic sound, and Adam twisted from his arms to reach and silence it.
"You make a compelling argument," Adam said, but he sat up instead of returning to Marco's embrace. "But we can't call in sick today. There's an HR review I promised we'd both attend, and a board meeting after lunch. I don't want Parson making international licensing decisions without us."
"Oh." Marco stifled a groan and flopped heavily onto his back. His eyes fell closed, but even so he could feel Adam's gaze tracing the contours of naked skin, appreciating the view. It wasn't much consolation against the knowledge that he had to get out of this bed and start a normal day.
"Come on." Adam's voice was gently humoring now. "Up. You can have first shower while I make breakfast." The mattress shifted beneath Marco as Adam's weight vanished, and then there was the quiet creak of floorboards.
"Or." Marco cracked an eye open, taking a moment to appreciate the view himself. Adam stood naked beside the bed, unselfconscious and glorious, the cut of his hips all sharp shadows in the dim bedroom. "You could shower with me, and we can order breakfast at the office."
"You are completely incorrigible." Adam said the words with a smile, though. And a moment later, when Marco rose and headed for the master bath, Adam followed instead of disappearing into the hall.
"Why," Adam muttered as Marco shoved him against the tiled wall, "am I suddenly sure you're going to make us late?"
"I would never," Marco protested without heat. Adam scoffed, and kissed him, and reached to turn on the water.
They were forty minutes late for the meeting with HR. Marco didn't care. He was already counting down the hours to the end of the work day, when he could take Adam home and find out just where this new path between them would lead.
"Incorrigible," Adam murmured, in the privacy of Marco's office just before the board meeting. As though he needed to repeat the point, having proven it was true.
Marco just grinned and kissed him quickly before allowing Adam to lead him out the door.
FIN
About the Author
Yolande Kleinn may be a shameless dreamer and a stubborn optimist, but she is also a proud purveyor of erotic romance. Excitable, fastidious and a little eclectic, she spends every spare moment writing the stories she wants to read. These range from the historical to the modern to the downright fantastic, always with plenty of heat along the way.
A Minnesotan by both heart and geography, Yolande has a lot of experience weathering tough winters. The best methods involve hot beverages, warm blankets and a book to devour late into the night. When the story in her head is more distracting than the story on the page, an empty notebook will do just as well.
You can find Yolande online via her website:
http://www.yolandekleinn.com
Matters of Heart Page 5