by Dev Bentham
In his car he sat for a moment, looking up at the light in Seth’s window. He picked up the cell and dialed.
“Hello?” Seth sounded relaxed.
“Hey,” Mark whispered.
“Hey, yourself.” He could hear the smile. “Was it something I said?”
“No.” Mark shook his head in the dark car. “I’m fucked up. I got so scared after the first time, I thought maybe if I left now it wouldn’t be so bad.”
“And is it?”
Mark laughed. “I don’t know. I’m not scared right now. At some point in all this, need trumps fear. I’m in that place right now.”
Seth chuckled. “You want to come back up?”
Mark slid his key into the ignition and started the car. “No. Maybe I can call you when I get home. You could talk me through it.”
Seth’s laugh was low and sexy. “That’s me, the talker.”
Mark hung up and shifted into gear. At least the hard-on he was taking home wasn’t the same one he arrived with.
* * *
Belle wagged through the kitchen door before Mark had it fully open. Thank God for best friends. A line of light shone from Lisa’s closed door. He tiptoed past, not really up for describing his evening.
“Hey, Mark, is that you?”
He paused in the hallway. “Um, yeah.”
“Did you get what you needed?” Now, that was an interesting question.
Mark opened the door a crack and peeked in, careful to keep his still-aroused body parts out of her line of view. “Uh, yeah.”
She lay back in bed with her knees up, her belly a small mountain beneath the covers. “I figured it must be something important, the way you lit out like that. Your computer okay?”
He nodded. “Fine, thanks.” Before she could ask more, he rushed on, “I’m off to bed now. Call if you need me.”
She smiled radiantly. “It’s so great you’re here. Thanks, Mark.”
“Uh, sure.” He closed the door and scurried into his own room. He turned on the clock radio, found a classical station and flopped on the bed. Belle curled at his feet. Images from the evening assailed him: Seth, so beautiful in his dancer poster, standing in the doorway as he arrived, Seth’s skin, his smell, the unexpected silkiness of his hair, the marvel of his tongue.
Mark picked up his phone, dialed.
“Hey,” Seth answered sleepily. “You’re home.”
“Yeah.” The image of Seth stretched naked on his bed left Mark suddenly tongue-tied.
Seth’s voice was warm. “I had a nice time tonight.”
“Me too.”
He chuckled softly. “I hadn’t imagined you would be so… I thought you’d be more, I don’t know, tentative.”
“Oh.” Mark’s stomach clenched. “Sorry.”
Seth laughed. “Don’t be. I liked it. I liked it a lot.”
“Me too.” The anxiety faded and desire rushed in, his own personal roller coaster.
Seth’s voice dropped. “Good. Then maybe we can do it again.”
Oh God, yes. “I’d like that.”
“How do you feel about fucking?” Seth asked lightly.
Mark’s heart started pounding, in a good way. His cock sprung to full attention at the thought. “I, uh, I’m all for it. But I don’t, I haven’t.”
“But you’d like to.” It wasn’t a question.
Mark unbuttoned his jeans to give himself more room.
Seth continued, “If you’re on top it’s different than with a woman but not entirely.”
“That’s not a relevant comparison for me.”
Silence on the other end. “Never?”
Mark shook his head, then remembered that Seth couldn’t see him. “No. Ruth would have, I’m sure, but it seemed cruel when I knew she couldn’t be what I wanted.”
Another silence. Seth cleared his throat. “So it should be special. With someone special.”
Mark’s heart sank. This was where Seth would tell him that all in all he was a nice guy but way too complicated and serious and too, too much. He sighed. Probably better to end it now, before he got hurt.
He opened his mouth to speak as Seth asked, “So, you must have thought about it, fantasized?”
Unsure where this was going, Mark grunted his assent.
There was a smile in Seth’s voice. “So which did you fantasize? Fucking, or being fucked?” When Mark didn’t respond he added, “Don’t worry, there’s no right answer. I’m a versatile guy.”
Mark swallowed. “Uh, both I guess, but mostly…”
“Yes?”
Mark cleared his throat. “Mostly I think about being on the receiving end.”
Seth chuckled. “That’s delicately put. Is that what you’re thinking of right now?”
Mark inhaled sharply and suddenly, yes, that was exactly what he was thinking of. “Uh-huh.”
“Good. I don’t know if I’m your special guy or not. It’s too early to know. But if I were that guy I’d… Wait, are you still dressed?”
Mark looked down at his underwear-clad erection poking through his open zipper. “Uh, yeah.”
“Put the phone down and take your clothes off. I’ll wait.”
Mark dropped the phone, ripped off his shirt and kicked out of his pants and underwear. Belle looked up indignantly, jumped off the bed and trotted to her own bed, where she circled twice and flopped down with a heavy sigh.
Mark put the phone back to his ear. “Seth?”
“I’m here. Just the way you left me,” Seth said softly. “Well, not quite the way you left me. Around you I seem to, er, rise to the occasion. How about you?”
Mark’s breath came out in a little puff of sound. “If by that you mean am I rock-hard for you, then yes.”
“Good.” Seth’s voice dropped a register. “So you’d like me to fuck you?”
Would he like Seth to fuck him? Oh God. “Yes.”
“We’d start by kissing. I like how you kiss, by the way. You’re very present.”
Mark blinked. “Um, thanks. I like kissing you.”
Seth chuckled. “Good. We should do that some more. And if I were going to fuck you we would kiss for a long time. I’d want you to be begging for it.”
Mark stifled a groan. His hand drifted to rest on his cock.
Seth continued softly, “Are you begging?”
“Yes. Please.” The words exploded from him more intensely than he’d planned.
“Good. Next I’d grease my fingers with lube and touch the rim of your asshole. Gently. Like a warm tickle to introduce myself. Can you imagine that?”
“Yes,” he whispered, his ass tingling in response.
“And I’d stroke your cock with my hand. Like I’m stroking mine right now. Is your hand on your cock?” He could hear Seth’s breath quickening.
Mark’s hand moved. “I’m imagining it’s your hand on me and it’s good.”
“Yes it is,” Seth whispered. “I’m pushing my finger into your ass, oiling you up, loosening your muscles. Can you feel that?”
Mark closed his eyes. He rolled onto his side so the pillow held the phone against his ear and slid his spare hand down to finger his own ass. He gasped. “Yes.”
“Now I’m sliding in another finger. Can you feel it? Maybe it burns a little until your muscles let me in.” Seth’s breathing was as ragged as Mark’s own.
Mark felt a rush of vulnerability. “Yes. I can feel it. I want more.”
“Oh God, you’re hot.” Seth groaned. “I want you to lube my cock, get it ready.”
“What about a condom?” Mark asked.
Seth chuckled. “I think at the moment we’re pretty safe, but if you want to put a condom on me go ahead.”
Mark blushed. “Oh, yeah. Never mind. I’m warming the lube in my hands and then covering your cock with it.”
“That’s good. And I know your ass is going to be good too.”
Mark’s hand moved faster as he pumped. “Please, Seth. I’m going to come very soon.”
Mark groaned. “Oh, please, fuck me.” And came, spattering in a long arch across the sheets.
Seth gave a long moan. “Oh God, I’m coming.”
They lay panting into the phone. Finally Seth asked, “Did we just come together on the phone?”
Mark shivered and pulled the covers over himself. “I think so.”
“You’re amazing,” he whispered.
Mark snorted. “Unique or eccentric is how most people put it.”
Seth chuckled. “Most people don’t get to spend time with you like this.”
Mark laughed.
“Can I see you again?” Seth whispered. “I mean, in person.”
“Yeah.” It sounded gruffer than he’d anticipated. “But Seth. You might want to think about whether you want to get involved with a nutcase like me. I mean, I… It probably wouldn’t be easy and if you keep this up I’m likely to… I mean… Look, think about it, okay?”
Mark could hear the smile in Seth’s voice. “I’m no great catch myself. You should see my prima donna act before a big show—seriously neurotic. But I get what you mean. You’re afraid I’ll hurt you.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “That’s not something I’d ever want to do.”
They were silent for a long moment. Then Seth whispered, “I had a great evening.”
“Yeah, me too.” As he hung up, Mark felt the reality of Seth’s words. Seth might not want to hurt him, but the truth was, letting someone else in meant he could get hurt.
He started toward the bathroom.
Lisa called, “You all right?”
“Yeah, thanks.” But he wasn’t at all sure that was true.
Chapter Twelve
Mark woke before dawn. He lay in bed going over every minute he and Seth had spent together. His body seemed to tingle with the memory of Seth’s touch. Mark ran his hand down his abdomen, trying to figure out what Seth had felt. He closed his eyes and saw again the way Seth had looked walking naked toward Mark from the bathroom. He hadn’t looked self-conscious, but every step seemed choreographed, his open-chested walk a poem of movement. What on earth could he see in Mark?
No use worrying about it. Mark rolled out of bed. Belle jumped down and followed him.
He scratched her ears. “Let’s get out of here, shall we, girl? How about a nice, long run?”
Her tail thumped exuberantly against the floor. Four-thirty in the morning, dark and chilly outside—it didn’t matter. A long run was always her favorite idea.
Mark found their reflective vests, gulped a protein drink, climbed into his running clothes and then they were outside. The air smelled cold green. Mark shivered. He pushed out at a slow trot, warming up in the welcoming darkness. Belle loped beside him, the best running companion ever.
Mark fell into a kind of meditation, focusing on the slap of his feet, the sound of his breath. He pushed away all thought, willing himself into mindless movement. He paid no attention to where he was going. He’d been running these streets for a month and was pretty sure he’d find his way back. Dr. Schlitz’s little anti-anxiety pills had nothing on the ache of his muscles and the pounding of his heart as he pressed forward, pushing himself to run faster and farther away.
Belle’s tongue lolled in her version of a smile. As Mark heated up he reveled in each breath of cool air.
“Fuck the weights today,” he called to Belle. “Let’s run until we drop.”
The sky went from black to dusky blue. Running through a residential neighborhood, Mark began to make out the architectural lines of adjacent buildings. Low ranch houses lined both sides of the street, some broken into duplexes. Older-model cars sat in driveways. It was like tumbling back down the economic ladder he and Pete had so carefully climbed. He turned a corner, half expecting to see his father emerging from one of the houses to climb into a pickup and drive off into the early morning, on his way to a construction site. He’d worked from dawn until dusk every weekday of Mark’s childhood, coming home exhausted and dirty but determined his boys would not do the same.
Mark allowed the memories to swamp him as he sweated through the predawn streets. The house had smelled of cooking oil, mildew and wet dog. Pete went through a phase where he boiled roadkill and wired the bones back together. Mark taught himself chess and played unending tournaments against imaginary opponents—not an easy trick when you have to play both parts. Those years were hard but held so many gifts. He learned to cook out of necessity, just as Pete learned to sew. Laundry, cleaning, yard work, the boys split the domestic chores straight down the middle. Since he couldn’t afford daycare, their father lied to school officials so Mark stayed back a year and Pete started early. They had each other’s backs, always. And they fought fiercely for the scraps of attention and love their dad tossed their way.
A line of crimson circled the sky to his left. Mark slowed, looking at it. “We’re heading north,” he whispered.
Belle blinked up at him.
“Seth’s house is this way. We’re running toward him.” Mark slowed to a walk and put a hand on Belle’s collar as a car pulled out of the next driveway. “What do you know about that?”
At the next corner he turned toward the sunrise. When the sun topped the horizon he turned left again and began the long run home.
* * *
Lisa’s door was closed when Mark and Belle tumbled in. He filled the dog’s bowls then padded back to his room to stretch. His legs had that buzzy tiredness he got after running farther than usual. His stomach grumbled, but he forced himself to pump through two hundred crunches and then threw himself into the shower.
Lisa emerged wrapped in a worn terry robe as he rummaged in the refrigerator.
He waved her to a seat at the table. “Tea will be ready in a minute. How are you?”
She rubbed her tummy. “Tired. He was really active last night. I’m beginning to think I’m giving birth to a squirrel.”
Mark grinned. “Pete is pretty squirrely at times.”
“I’ll be glad when it’s all over. Three more weeks seems like an eternity.”
The kettle boiled and Mark poured. “Anything I can do?”
She smiled as he handed her tea. “I don’t suppose you’d like to take over the pregnancy? I’m kind of sick of it.”
“God, no.” He eyed her belly. “I know I’m supposed to be envious of your ability to produce life and all but…” He shuddered.
Lisa laughed. “Wait until it’s your wife.”
Mark stopped scrambling eggs and turned to her. “Lisa,” he started.
The phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID. “It’s Mom. Sorry, Mark. I have to answer it. Don’t worry about breakfast. I’ll have some toast later.”
* * *
Mark checked his email every ten minutes. No message from Seth. Probably busy having second thoughts about getting involved with a nut job.
He was still catching up with his classwork when Lisa’s first pupil arrived. Mark shut his door and tried to block out the unmusical thumping. Was that supposed to be Brahms? Thank God this was her last workday until after the baby was born.
His computer rang. He’d installed Skype when Pete went overseas the first time and he was still Mark’s only Skype contact. He looked at the clock and answered. “Jesus, Pete, it must be the middle of the night over there.”
Pete’s tired face filled his screen. He looked disheveled, stubble apparent on his chin even in the pixilated image. “Hey, bro. I’m fine. An IED took out most of a convoy yesterday. You’ll probably hear it on the news. I just got out of surgery with the last of them.” He looked away from the screen. “It was pretty grim.”
Mark’s mental image of Pete’s war doctoring was as Hawkeye in some updated version of M A S H. But what he saw in Pete’s eyes didn’t have anything to do with comedy. “I’m sorry, man. Hey,
you want me to get Lisa? She’s with a student but I’m sure—”
“No.” Pete shook his head. “That’s why I’m calling now. I want to talk with you.”
Fear jumped in Mark’s stomach. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah.” Pete ran a hand over his short-cropped hair. “I wanted to tell you how much it means to me that you’re there with Lisa.”
“No problem.” Mark realized he’d been holding his breath. “Glad to help out.”
Pete closed his eyes. When he opened them again he looked sadder than Mark remembered seeing him. “The rumor is that I’m not going home anytime soon. I know you’ve got a life and an apartment to go back to, but I was wondering…”
Mark thought of his dark apartment and quiet, isolated, safe life. He knew what Pete was asking him to do, to trade empty and sad for chaotic, scary and, and what? “Of course I’ll stay ‘til you get back. You think I’m going to leave Lisa alone with the baby? I’m not an asshole, you know.”
Pete smiled. “Good to know. I always knew there was a heart under that Hercules façade.”
“Gee thanks, Dr. Demento.” Mark chuckled.
Pete sobered, he looked close to tears. “You don’t know what it means to me that you’re taking care of Lisa. Especially with the…” He paused, cleared his throat and continued. “Complications. Christ, Mark, I don’t know what I’d do if it weren’t for you. It’s driving me crazy not being there to watch her, monitor what’s going on, make sure she and the baby are safe.” He stopped, closed his eyes and struggled visibly to regain his composure. “You’re the best big brother a guy could ask for.”
Mark blushed. “Hey, I may not have your medical expertise, but we both know I’m a better cook. And from the size of Lisa these days you may not be thanking me later on.”
Pete burst out laughing. “If the worst thing that comes out of this pregnancy is a fat wife, I’ll kiss you both.” Mark grimaced and Pete laughed harder. “Don’t give me that. I’m on to your tough-guy act.”
Mark cleared his throat. “Pete, there’s something I need to talk with you about.”
Pete’s smile dissolved. “You okay?”
Mark nodded. “Yeah. But I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and… Jesus, this is not the right time or place for this. Forget it.”