Make It Better (Gay Romance)

by Trina Solet

  Ray tried to punch his arms but he dodged. When Ray went after him, he set off a wrestling match, which he lost because he was ticklish and Marcus wasn’t. That’s an unfair advantage. Marcus should have been disqualified instead of being kissed all over and fondled so much Ray thought he would wear out his beautiful ass from all the groping he was doing. Of course if body parts could be worn out that way, his dick was in even greater danger. It was too soon for that nonsense, so they stopped and Ray went to see about making them some dinner. Going out would have required more clothes than he was willing to put on.

  Ray cooked in his jeans. Marcus was dressed only in his boxers, but then he didn’t have kitchen safety issues to worry about like exposing vital parts to hot surfaces and sharp objects. Sitting on the other side of the kitchen counter, he was only a spectator.

  Watching him cook, Marcus said, “Some day you’ll make some man a wonderful husband.”

  “You bet,” Ray agreed. But the thought of it seemed impossible. Admittedly, thoughts of him and Marcus sharing a life would intrude sometimes. They would shine bright for a second then he would shut them out. Ray had never before wished so much for someone to share his life. Not that he didn’t want that. But it seemed greedy to ask for so much after the good fortune of meeting Lionel. At one time, all Ray wished for was to be safe, to have a real place to live, not to have to do things for money or for food, or so someone wouldn’t beat him or cut him. That wish was granted. Ray didn’t dare to wish for even more. He had met plenty of nice, attractive guys and had plenty of good sex. No one could have everything, and asking for too much would just invite unhappiness.

  Marcus noticed he was lost in thought, maybe even frowning with too much seriousness. Ray smiled at him. He didn’t want him to read the gloomy things that were on his mind. But Marcus kept staring at him just as if he could see what Ray was thinking. Marcus reached out his hand, and Ray gave him his though it had bits of red and yellow pepper on it.

  Along with those gloomy thoughts, his conversation with Lionel was starting to weigh on him. It was so brief and insignificant, but it bothered him to keep it to himself. So he told Marcus all about it. Marcus was annoyed by even that little bit he had shared with Lionel.

  “Why did you have to tell him anything?” Marcus wasn’t really asking for his reason. He was only expressing his displeasure.

  “Because he cares and he’s worried.”

  “No, he doesn’t care. Marcus doesn’t understand. Jake and Vicky were nothing to him.”

  “He does care. It’s just that he cares about you more,” Ray told him. But Marcus dismissed what he was saying as biased drivel.

  “Yeah, I get it. You’re his biggest fan.” Marcus sounded angry, uncompromising. For a second, he was just like Lionel. Marcus had the same hardness to him. Maybe that was why he couldn‘t like Lionel. Marcus saw in him a reflection of his own potential to be harsh maybe even unforgiving.

  “Are you afraid of my uncle?” he asked Ray suddenly.

  “No!” he wasn’t. Maybe that was only because Ray had no reason to be. But he had overheard enough of Lionel’s conversations when he lived with him to know that people who crossed him had reason to be afraid, maybe not for their lives, but there were other ways to strike out at people. Ray didn’t want to talk about it any more. He knew that if they talked about Lionel they would only argue. Marcus took him for granted, considered him corrupt. Ray saw him as his savior. They could never agree.

  Despite that little bit of unpleasantness, Marcus stayed all night. Too often, Ray would open his eyes to find that Marcus was awake, probably hadn’t slept for more than a few minutes. They joined each other in wakefulness in order to kiss sleepily and suck each other off a few more times. Ray knew Marcus couldn’t sleep for long, and he was determined to at least fill his sleepless hours with sex, followed by a little orgasm induced sleep. That little bit of sleep was good for him, even if it didn’t last. Marcus was awake again trying to lie still and not wake him until his hard on wouldn’t let him rest.

  In those moments of half wakefulness, Ray tried to remind himself of what he was supposed to be doing for Marcus, but the idea wouldn’t stick. Ray wasn’t his therapy. He wanted him too much for that. When it came to Marcus, he couldn’t help himself. Ray was greedy. In the darkness of his warm bed, he wrapped his mouth around Marcus’s cock with a groan. The vibration he sent into him must have told Marcus how much he wanted him. They went almost to the edge then dragged themselves back to start again. Marcus was panting with need, out of control, hard and dripping, aching for him. It was so beautiful. Ray had never been so desperate for anyone’s body. Ray never wanted him to leave.

  It was early morning. The light was just turning ruddy. Ray was so glad that it was Saturday. If it was a workday, he would have had to call in sick. He went back to sleep since Marcus was snoring away next to him. Just before he was asleep again, he had time to worry that the sound of Marcus snoring made him so happy. That had to be a bad sign. Ray was in too deep.

  Once again Marcus woke him with his touch. There was no better way to wake up. Ray had his back to him and let him continue playing. His hand moved down Ray’s back then around to his chest. His fingers brushed Ray’s nipples. Marcus did it absently not meaning to arouse him so much, but he did. He could hear Ray breathing faster and harder.

  “I forgot that you liked that.” Marcus smiled at him. He liked to be able to make him react.

  Ray turned to lie on his back and closed his eyes to better enjoy what Marcus was doing. Ray moaned when he lowered his face to his chest and started nibbling.

  “I guess you like that even better.”

  “Aha,” he said or more like gasped.

  “I can’t wait for you to fuck me again,” Marcus said. Ray had already told him he had to wait. He wondered if Marcus was trying to influence him with all his attention to his chest.

  “I just can’t get over how a marshmallowy guy like you knows what a dick is for and how to use it.” Or Marcus just wanted to insult him.

  “Maybe if you rephrase that, it will sound like a compliment,” Ray told him.

  “You fuck like a demon,” Marcus said as he raised his face off Ray’s chest only for a second.

  “Your words are pure poetry,” Ray said. “Could you find something between demon and marshmallow? Maybe sex god?” he suggested.

  Marcus laughed at his suggestion.

  “Don’t pretend you aren’t flattered,” he said as he made his way up and kissed Ray’s throat. He then reversed course and traveled back down his body. Marcus didn’t stop until he had Ray’s balls in his mouth.

  He and Marcus were lying lazily, not willing to get up yet.

  “So you like to read,” Marcus said looking at his shelves of books like he had only now noticed them. It was mostly popular stuff and a few classics, not exactly heavy reading material.

  “Sure I like to read. Who doesn’t”

  “Lots of people,” Marcus said, and Ray wondered if he was one of them.

  Ray remembered how books had kept him company when he lived alone for the first time after he left Lionel’s. He had worried then that he couldn’t make it, that he would lose his job, his apartment and end up on the street again. The books had anchored him, calmed him, transported him. He thought of them almost like friends.

  Marcus kissed his shoulder absently. Ray worried about where Marcus’s thoughts might take him. It was time to get up. Noticing how thin Marcus was, Ray decided to feed him.

  Ray made blueberry cornbread muffins. Then just to be safe, he made a few salty ones with cheddar. Marcus had a little bit of blueberry but finished the cheddar one. Ray considered breakfast a success.

  Later that day, he told Marcus about his plan for them to go and watch a charity marathon in the park. It was organized by a gay youth outreach organization. Marcus grumbled despite the good cause.

  “It’s not a walkathon is it? Because I will not watch a walkathon, I don’t care what it�
�s for. I categorically refuse to watch people walking.”

  “I already told you it was a marathon.” Ray showed him the picnic lunch he had prepared and packed in a big shopping bag while Marcus was showering. “We’ll eat this on this great spot by the pond where they have ducks.”

  “Ducks too. Are we eighty? Are we senior citizens? Is that who we are?”

  “Oh, be quiet. You’ll love it,” Ray told him as they left. He knew why Marcus was grouchy. He wanted to stay in bed all day and fool around. Ray wanted that too. But he thought about what Marcus needed. He thought maybe fresh air, some relaxing time outdoors might do him good. Marcus still looked like someone who had been sick, though Ray wanted to think of him as someone who was recovering.

  Marcus did love their outing in the park. In particular, he loved yelling at the runners to pick it up. It could be called cheering them on if you stretched the definition. The runners took it well and waved at him as they passed. Maybe they felt encouraged. Marcus did have a nice voice, deep and pleasant even at full volume. He also enjoyed the pond, ducks and all. Ray didn’t bring a blanket because he didn’t want to carry it around. He spread out some newspapers and unpacked the food, sandwiches and snacks mostly. Marcus made fun of his “tablecloth” and ate a little more than usual and then took a nap right on the grass.

  Maybe Marcus was right, and they were two eighty year olds. Ray pictured them as an old couple, settled, secure, committed to each other beyond any doubt, feeding ducks and taking afternoon naps. It was a sweet thought as long as he didn’t picture them naked at that age, their equipment failing, everything sagging. To get rid of those mental images, he looked at Marcus and wondered if the signs of recovery were real. Marcus still didn’t eat much and his sleep was always brief and restless. But there were peaceful moments too, like now. It wasn’t a good sign that Ray liked looking at him so much. Marcus was sexy even in sleep. Ray was starting to question his decision to lie around by a pond with ducks and no privacy instead of lying around in his bed looking at Marcus’s hot, naked body.

  He woke up when some kids started shouting near them. Marcus was already awake and staring at them, remembering. Some of the kids looked like they might be related, brothers and sisters, or maybe some of them were cousins. They were arguing about a game of touch football they had been playing. As they moved away to resume their game further on, Marcus followed them with his eyes. He looked haunted. Ray was determined to take him away from those kids and from the memories they stirred up. To break the spell the kids had put on him, Ray took him on a long walk around the park. Feeling refreshed, they strolled all over. Being on the move did Marcus good.

  By early evening, they ended up at a restaurant by the river with a large outdoor space where they were playing live music. Ray didn’t know what it was called but it sounded like New Orleans. It was the kind of music that transports you to a different place. Sometimes the words were in French, sometimes in English. The wait for a table was long, but they didn’t mind except when the band took a break to everyone’s disappointment. Once they were seated, they both had fish. Ray had his in a peppery wine sauce that he was hoping to duplicate. Marcus had his fried. It looked crispy and flaky, and Ray knew he could make that if he was only willing to stink up his apartment. Maybe if Marcus agreed to do what he wanted him to do one of these days, he might. Though he tried his best not to count his bites, Ray did pay attention to what he liked. He was glad to see that Marcus’s appetite was getting a little stronger.

  Though they didn’t do anything more strenuous than walking, Marcus still looked tired when they went back to Ray’s apartment that night. Ray got them beers as they chilled out in front of the TV. Marcus kept his hand on Ray’s thigh. Sometimes he would move it up to his crotch and give it a little squeeze. Marcus did this every few minutes keeping him in a state of constant, unfulfilled need. As long as he could, Ray played along. Then he set down his beer, took Marcus’s beer out of his hand despite his protests so he could rip his clothes off without spilling it. Marcus laughed at him as he got him naked hurriedly. No doubt, he was expecting some more direct action, but Ray started kissing his chest. He ignored Marcus’s cock as it got hard but kissed him everywhere else. After the initial surprise, Marcus saw what he was doing and played along too. They were both such good sports. Ray kissed him on the lips only lightly though Marcus opened his mouth for more. No tongue for him, yet. Ray pulled his body close but not too close. Gripping his ass, Ray brushed his fingertips over the cleft. Marcus panted and tried to grind against him. His cock got no contact. Until now, Marcus had kept his hands to himself like a good boy. But now he started to grope Ray, making desperate grabs as he moaned. Ray took pity on him and gave him a real kiss, his tongue deep in his mouth fighting for space with his. Marcus moaned when he pulled away, but smiled when he saw what he was doing. Ray took his clothes off just slow enough to see the tension mount in Marcus’s body. Then he went to him. Letting their naked bodies meet fully, almost slam together, he let Marcus grind himself against him and he did the same. They had full body contact and a crazy rhythm going. They stopped kissing only to look into each other’s eyes. Ray couldn’t wait to feel him come on him and to come all over him. As it happened, they each had a hard grip on one another’s asses, looking into each other’s eyes as they grunted and their come mixed.

  *

  Next morning, Ray found Marcus in the kitchen, making coffee that looked way too strong for his taste. Ray stayed quiet wanting to enjoy the sight of Marcus shirtless before he let him know he was up. Marcus was only wearing his jeans and they weren’t zipped up all the way. Ray could see the curls of dark hair where the fly stood open. How indecent. The sight almost distracted him from the crime against coffee Marcus was currently committing.

  “You’re making mud not coffee, you know,” Ray complained.

  “This is coffee. The stuff you make is weak tea. Just throw in the towel and drink tea if you aren’t serious about drinking real coffee.”

  “I’ll have to pour a gallon of cream into your death brew to make it drinkable.”

  “Death brew. I like that.” Marcus sounded pleased with himself like coffee that didn’t burn right through your insides wasn’t worth drinking.

  “Don't be proud of it. This stuff is not for human consumption,” Ray told him.

  He poured himself only half a cup of Marcus’s version of coffee and topped it off with plenty of milk and a little bit of cream. It was pretty good that way. Marcus looked at Ray with disdain as he diluted his coffee.

  “You are a coffee wuss.”

  Ray nudged Marcus out of his small kitchen and made some scrambled eggs. They came out nice and fluffy and Marcus complemented them.

  “Mine always come out like yellow lumps of rubber.”

  “You’re probably overdoing them.”

  “I don’t like them runny,” he said. Ray shrugged. If he couldn’t see that there was something between rubbery and runny, that was his loss. It made Ray’s cooking skills all the more impressive if Marcus couldn’t duplicate what he made. Though he didn’t want Marcus cooking for him, there was that thing he did want him to do. Not being able to fuck Marcus yet, especially the way he wanted him to, had been a little frustrating for the both of them. When he brought it up that morning and he refused him, Ray told him it was the price he had to pay for getting it hard up the ass. He insisted that Marcus’s ass had to take at least a week off. Marcus wanted to overrule his decision. Ray said, “My dick. My rules.” But he was too chicken to ask Marcus for what he wanted right then. As time was running out with the end of the weekend approaching, Ray grew more and more determined not to miss out on this opportunity.

  They took a walk around the neighborhood while Ray got his courage up. As it got late, Marcus thought they might be looking for a place to eat, but Ray didn’t want that. They needed privacy and possibly to skip lunch. Ray said he would make lunch and took them back home. As he pretended to look in the refrigerator, he finally
spoke up.

  “Since your ass needs a break, I can offer you a compromise,” he said as he rummaged aimlessly in the shelves hoping that Marcus’s answer would mean that there would be a change of plans.

  “You could fuck me,” Ray finally blurted out. He didn’t think there was any doubt from the way he said it that it was not a compromise but what he really wanted.

  He wanted Marcus inside him though he wanted to be inside him too. Maybe they couldn’t do that simultaneously, but he wanted to at least take turns. Before Marcus, he had always let the other men decide, an old habit. But he wasn’t going to go by habit with Marcus. Ray wanted to give and get. He wanted everything from Marcus, and he wanted to give him everything in return.

  “I…” Marcus started to say.

  Ray was already feeling a wave of disappointment as he heard the hesitation in Marcus’s voice. Not wanting to hear his refusal, he cut him off.

  “That’s OK. If it’s not your thing. No big deal,” Ray said and turned back to pretend to search the refrigerator again.

  As he bent down to hide his face, Ray could feel Marcus come up behind him. Marcus took his ass in his hands and pressed up against him so he could feel his hard on.

  “I’d like to fuck you,” he said.

  “Really? When? Now?

  Ray straightened up, turned around and stared at him eagerly. Marcus was smiling at him. Despite the hard on and the smile, he could tell Marcus was doing it for him and not because it was what he was into. But he also knew that Marcus wouldn’t regret it. Ray would make sure it was the best fuck he ever had.