by Rachel Kane
“I don’t even want to say it was bad, at first. If you were playing by Xavier’s rules, life was good. I was staying with a couple of roommates in an apartment, but he moved me out of there, into my own place. I was able to quit working. I can’t even describe what that was like. Like I said, I’d had a job since I was fourteen. Suddenly, I was free--or at least, I felt free. All I had to do was hang out until he wanted me, and then I’d slide into some new clothes and let him show me off at a party, then take me back to his place for...well. I won’t go into detail.
“It didn’t take long before the limits of my freedom became clear. If I wasn’t ready for him the moment he wanted me, he’d be furious. I couldn’t have friends at my place, because if he dropped by unexpectedly, he wanted my full, undivided attention. After a while, I realized it was easier just not to leave the apartment.
“I think I was depressed, but there was no way I could admit that to myself at the time. I couldn’t go out, I couldn’t see my friends, and if I expressed anything other than eager horniness around him, he’d be offended. I’d think about leaving him, but he’d pick up on that. He’d start talking about the future. One of these days, I’ll get you settled in my business. When things calm down, we need to get you a degree. That sort of thing. Promises without a plan.
“At first I could’ve set my watch by his visits. He was so eager to see me, to be seen with me. But those visits...they became shorter. He started to seem tense around me. He still brought plenty of gifts, but he didn’t want to talk to me, and he didn’t want to stay the night. Sometimes a whole day would go by without a call from him. Sometimes that stretched to two or three days. But he still expected me to be at his beck and call.”
His voice trailed off, and he stared at the ocean. I touched his arm, but he didn’t seem to notice me at all, he was so lost in his story.
“I finally had to admit to myself that it was over. And that he was waiting for me to do something so he’d be justified in breaking up with him. I’m not proud of who I became during all this. He had treated me like some pampered lapdog, and I had to begun to think of myself like that. I got snippy. We didn’t fight exactly, but we squabbled. I’d tell him his gifts weren’t big enough, or he hadn’t taken me to a nice enough restaurant. Then I’d hate myself inside for being so fucking shallow. It’s like, I didn’t mean the gifts weren’t good enough, but I’d lost the ability to express myself to him in any natural way.”
“You were afraid,” I said.
“Of course I was afraid. He could destroy me. He could send me back to absolute poverty. I’d lie there in bed, wondering how long I could survive off selling my watches and shoes. I just couldn’t stand it anymore. We finally had a real fight. I told him I was tired of being treated like a used-up mistress. He told me I’d outlived my usefulness to him, that he’d been seeing other boys. That really broke it for me. I flipped out. I’d been a prisoner in this apartment for what felt like years, waiting for his calls, hoping he would visit, and it was just over. I felt used, I felt lied to...I let him have it. I told him exactly what I thought about his sick need to control. I yelled at him until his face turned red--you could see the red, all the way up his scalp.
“I’d had this fantasy that, once I was on my own, I could sell all these gifts, but no. As I was shoving all my stuff into bags, he’s standing there in the doorway, telling me that he never gave me gifts, only offered to loan me some trinkets. And I better not think that I was taking those valuable objects with me. You know, if I’d had a day or two to think it over, I might’ve even called a lawyer about it, but I was too mad, too eager to be free, so I left everything behind. All the clothes, all the jewelry, everything.”
I nodded. “I know a thousand guys like this. You leaving with nothing, that wasn’t enough for him, was it? He had to take it further. He had to win.”
A long, quiet sigh from Marcus was almost lost in the sound of the waves against the cliff. “He had to win. That’s the way to put it, yes. I was staying with a friend, when I started hearing the rumors. I’d stolen money from Xavier. Artwork. Precious stones. Just all this bullshit--anyone who knew me could see I was sleeping on a sofa at night, and spending my days running from restaurant to restaurant seeing who could hire me. I didn’t have a dime to my name. But everybody knew I was a thief. That I’d tried to get my claws into Xavier, and when I couldn’t, I’d left him with nothing.
“I waited for the police to come. I was ready, more or less. I’d tell the whole story, and they’d either believe me or not. But of course the bastard had no intention of calling the police. That would bring the truth to light. No, as long as it stayed in the world of rumor, I could be punished and punished and punished, without any proof.
“I was radioactive. No one would hire me, because everyone knew what a thief I was. I finally got a job working the counter at a diner. Gradually worked my way back up. Xavier left town, and the gossip eventually died down. You know what the restaurant business is like in Oceanside; whatever’s hot this week will be bankrupt next week. So new places would open, with owners who hadn’t heard of me. Friends would get me spots as a cater-waiter to keep the money coming in. And I’m doing okay now. For the past year or so, I’ve made enough to live on my own. But it changes you, going through something like that. You’re always looking over your shoulder. You’re worried about what someone might say.”
I rubbed my face. “God, Marcus. To think I was a part of that. I feel so fucking guilty.”
“It’s not your fault. I mean, it is. But you didn’t know. That’s the whole problem. Nobody knew. They just believed.”
I took his hand in mine, and we looked out over the water. “I believe you,” I said.
“Are you sure?” His voice hesitated.
I kissed him then, our feet dangling out over the cliff, the ocean roaring beneath us. Our arms entwined, and we lay back on this beautiful, dangerous spot. I felt so much for him. I could feel his need, in the urgency of his kisses. His hands raised my shirt, and ran down my flanks.
“Someone might come,” I whispered.
“Don’t care,” he whispered back. Even under the hot sun, I shivered at the touch of his tongue against my chest. I was almost instantly hard, and eager to climb atop him. I love that little struggle, the tussling to see who will be where...but my foot hanging out into empty space stopped me.
“Marcus,” I said.
His voice was muffled. “Yeah?”
“Look, I really want to do this. I do. But if you move down any further, you’re going to fall off the cliff.”
He stopped, and looked behind him. “Oh. God.”
“I know you really wanted to dive--”
“Diving is one thing. Sliding off you and falling forty feet to my death is...I mean it’s not exactly erotic.”
He rolled off me, and we got up, but we didn’t get far. I pushed him back down once we were a few yards from the edge. The waves were still loud, and the birdsong in the trees overhead were a riot of sound.
We stripped each other quickly, kicking shorts into a pile nearby. The trek up here had left a sheen of sweat over his body, and I put my tongue against his belly, tasting the salt. As I sat cross-legged, he settled into my lap, wrapping his legs around me. Our cocks were touching, our chests were touching...his skin was burning hot from the sun.
I slid my hand between us, and tried to get both our cocks into my grip. Together, we were too thick, and my fingers wouldn’t close, but it was good enough to begin stroking. He put his arms loosely around my shoulders and closed his eyes.
I was a bundle of contradictions. How could I want someone so strongly, so urgently...and yet want this to be long, slow, leisurely? I let my hand squeeze our cocks together, so gradually moving upward it was almost hypnotic. As my hand rose towards our tips, precum poured out of his slit, drizzling down onto my cock, down over my hand. It made my palm slick, and I stroked even more slowly, listening to the low noise he was making.
His l
egs tightened around me, and I could feel his ass against my thighs, tensing in rhythm with my strokes. I lightened my grip on our cocks, letting my fingers softly play over his shaft, teasing him. His eyes moved under his closed eyelids, like he was dreaming; he took in a sharp breath through his teeth. He was fascinating to me. The muscle of his jaw, the line of his neck, the rounded thick shoulder: everything about him drew me closer. I wanted to sculpt him. Sometimes I say that I see best with my hands, feeling the planes and angles and curves beneath my palms. I felt that I could spend the rest of my life seeing him this way, brushing over his skin, reconstructing him in stone.
What I could not do, though, is keep up this slow pace. Because he excited me more than I could stand. Without meaning to, my hand had begun to speed up, stroking us both harder. He began to lean against me, and I could hear his breathing grow quicker. I put my free hand on the back of his neck and drew his lips towards mine. I kissed him, and then felt my entire body tense as my climax overtook me. His eyes opened; he knew what was happening, and seeing my orgasm drove him to his own; we were both coming, our seed arcing between us, thrusting against my hand as we gasped and panted.
Finally, slick with sweat and semen, we fell back onto the forest floor. He stared into my eyes for the longest while.
Eventually one of us had to speak. I was feeling so warm and satisfied, drowsy from the sun, my fingers playing over his chest. I said, “You look so peaceful right now.”
His eyebrows rose. “Do I? I feel...peaceful. Maybe. I’m not sure I know what that feels like.”
“This whole trip you’ve looked either pissed off or worried. So peaceful is a nice change.”
He shrugged, and touched my hand. “There’s a lot to worry about. Less, now. I just want to forget the real world for a while.”
“Maybe I can help.”
His smile was soft. “Help me forget? You’re already doing that.”
“No, I mean help with the real world. It’s not that bad a place, if you have help.”
That made him laugh. “Sure thing. Know any restaurant owners? Maybe you can put in a good word for me when we get back. I need a new job pretty much the minute I land back in Oceanside.”
I shook my head. “No, we can do so much better than that. I mean, what do you want, Marcus? Deep down? What’s your dream?”
His look of puzzlement surprised me. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said.
“What do you want to do with your life? Surely you don’t want to be a waiter for all time, right? So like, what if you wanted to go to college? I could pay your--”
He sat up quickly. “No,” he said. I watched him grab his shirt and tug it back on.
“Okay, but lots of things require college,” I said, “and we could--”
He was in his shorts. “I said no. Sergio: No.”
I couldn’t just sit here naked and confused, while he got dressed. I stood, and pulled on my clothes. “You look angry, and I don’t understand why,” I said. “Did I say something wrong?”
“I just--” He shook his head. “I can’t believe this. I can not believe this is happening.”
“Can we just back up? Clearly I said something that offended you, but I really didn’t mean to. Was it the remark about being a waiter all your life? Because...” I didn’t finish. He looked absolutely tortured, as though I’d revealed a horrible, unforgivable secret about myself.
He was already walking away, and I didn’t understand why. “Marcus, wait!”
He turned around just long enough to say, “For five whole minutes, I thought you were different. But you’re not. How can you be just like everyone else?”
He disappeared into the trail. I stared after him in confusion and dismay.
16
Marcus: Hurt Feelings
There are moments in your life when you know you’re being dramatic, and you find you just can’t help it. The words you need to say won’t come to you at all, and the only words you can find are shocked, defensive words. I didn’t want to fight with Sergio. But I didn’t know how to tell him how he had made me feel--how I was swung from one emotion to another so quickly that it felt like whiplash. I trusted you to understand, I wanted to tell him. I trusted you to get the moral of the story I just told you.
That he didn’t get it was such a surprise to me. He had seemed so understanding. How could I have been so wrong about him? How could he have been so wrong about me?
I didn’t want to get into self-pity. None of this, maybe we’re just wrong for each other and I should be alone forever crap. But I definitely needed a minute to think, to regroup, and I wasn’t going to be able to do that with Sergio asking me questions with that hurt, innocent expression on his face. If I had to look like a drama queen for a little while, that would have to be okay.
Sergio wanted to think that he was better than his other rich friends. He wanted to think that he was beyond all the shallowness that money brings. But his ability to think that was a symptom of that same mindset. Offering to send me to college? As though writing a big check would make everything in the world okay?
It was wrong on so many counts, that it was hard for me to untangle them all in my thoughts.
I would be the subject of gossip yet again...everyone, everyone would see me as a kept man. Every single shred of respect I’d gained in the years since Xavier would be trashed. I had worked hard to get where I was.
And where is that, unemployed?
Oh, come on. I was out of a job, and that was never a good situation to be in, but I’d built a good reputation over time. Things would get better. I didn’t need Sergio’s help. I certainly didn’t need him to be my knight on a white horse.
Besides--and this was the other objection--what did I want to do with my life?
I had bristled when Sergio asked if I wanted to be a waiter all my life. There was a layer of condescension there that I could hear, even if he couldn’t. No, Sergio, I don’t want to be 60 years old and bringing trays of ribs out to non-tipping customers.
I was thinking about this, asking myself whether I had any vision for the future at all, when I reached the resort. Honestly, I needed a shower, especially after the climb and my time in Sergio’s lap, but first I needed to just sit down and chill for a few minutes. I ordered a beer, and finished a third of the frigid bottle at once.
Josh was sitting at the other side of the bar, looking sleepless and forlorn. I wasn’t really in the mood to talk, but when he spotted me, he moved down to my side.
I looked into his glass. “Whiskey? This early?”
“God, Marcus, this is the worst vacation I have ever taken.” He drained his glass and summoned the bartender for more.
I said, “Hunter’s leaving you alone, I hope?”
“Is he? I’m in deep hiding at this point. I had to ask Cal and Edgar if I could sleep in their room, to get away from Hunter. And then they had a fight that lasted until four this morning, and I’m just drained, man.”
“He’s awful,” I said. “But you’ll be happy to hear that he has moved on to me.”
Josh shook his head. “Welcome to my nightmare. Pushy old bastard. Do you have a crucifix handy? Maybe that will ward him off.”
“That’s not a bad idea. Big stake through the heart.”
“Is that why you look so tired?” he asked me.
“Do I?”
“Well, you don’t look happy. I thought, with you and Sergio being a thing now--”
“Wait, what?” I set my bottle down on the bar.
“Aren’t you together?”
Jesus, did everyone have telepathy on this island or something? I had not spoken to a soul other than Sergio since our conversation in the freezer this morning. “Where did you hear that?”
“You know where. Cal and Edgar, before their fight. They said you were in--and I quote--deep, enduring love with Sergio. Or that you’d hooked up with him or something.”
“Oh my god,” I said. “I just--I can’t--”
“See, I told them it couldn’t be true. I told them you knew better than to fall for that. Wait...is it true or not?” He peered at me.
“I honestly don’t know,” I said. “Things are complicated. Way more complicated than Cal and Edgar could possibly understand.”
Josh nodded as though he knew exactly what I was talking about...which is when I realized just how drunk he was already. “That’s the way these things go. Way more complicated. You be careful, Marcus.”
“I swear, if one more person on this island tells me to be careful...”
“No, but I mean it. Everybody knows about Sergio.”
I finished my beer and got another. Sighing, I said, “Tell me about Sergio, Josh. Let’s have it.”
“I mean, he’s nice and all. Artsy. All the art-people in town love him. But he was totally in thrall to Harris.”
“In thrall?” I rolled my eyes.
“Seriously, what kind of person goes out with a sociopath? What kind of person moves in with one?”
“In Sergio’s defense, I don’t think he realized anything was wrong with Harris until it was too late. Did anyone realize? He seemed so normal. I mean, rich, stuck-up, ruiner of lives...but normal.”
“Damn, I’m surprised to hear you defend him,” said Josh. “After being his enemy for so long, I mean. Something really did happen between you.”
“I just don’t see why one bad decision on his part means I have to be careful.” And honestly, I didn’t want to hear it. What did Josh have to offer me? More gossip? It didn’t matter. What mattered was, I needed to talk things over with Sergio. I was tired of warnings and forebodings and fights and everything. I liked Sergio. I could figure out a way to talk to him about how I felt. It wouldn’t be easy, but I could do it.
I wondered if he was up in the room, or back at the freezer, or what. I set my second empty down.
“We’re just looking out for you,” said Josh.