by Peter Styles
“Where are we going?” Jason asked when we were back on the road and headed in the opposite direction.
“To see my therapist.”
“Joe?”
I laughed. “No, not Joe. My real therapist.”
Jason’s eyes widened in surprise. “I didn’t know you saw a therapist.”
“I only visit him occasionally these days. How did you think I got a prescription for Xanax, the Tooth Fairy?”
“Or Santa Claus. How the hell was I supposed to know? You never mentioned it.”
I gave him a narrow-eyed side glance. “You think less of me now?”
“Of course not. I just didn’t think someone like you—” He bit his lip and looked out the window, leaving something unspoken.
“Someone like me?” I prodded.
“You just always seem to have it together. Like you’re perfect. In fact, that’s my private nickname for you. Dr. Perfect.”
“Really,” I said, raising an eyebrow. “Do tell me more about this perfection of mine.”
He laughed and turned fully around in his seat to face me. “It’s not a compliment, Mark.”
I was stunned, and from Jason’s renewed laughter, it obviously showed on my face.
“Oh, come on. You don’t have a secret nickname for me?”
“You mean other than Sexy?”
He smirked. “I mean something I wouldn’t like.”
I gave him my stunned face again. “You think I’m going to tell you if I have a nickname you wouldn’t like? I think that would be counter-productive to my trying to seduce you.”
“Come on, Mark. I told you mine.”
“And it hurt me, J. It hurt me bad.” The twitch of my lips gave away my amusement.
“Mark…”
“Okay, fine. Sometimes—not very often, mind you, but sometimes—I might possibly almost call you Tight Ass.”
The space between Jason’s eyebrows creased in confusion. “You already told me that one. At the New Year’s party. Well, sort of. You told me I needed to loosen up that tight ass of mine.”
“Did I?” I shook my head and laughed. “Damn, I must have been really drunk. Did I also tell you it has a double meaning?”
“No. In fact, you were very quick to point out it didn’t have anything to do with my actual ass. As you blushed from head to toe.”
“I don’t blush,” I said.
“Well, you did that night. Trust me, I’ll never forget the first time I made you blush. I really quite enjoyed it.”
“Oh, did you now? And what did you say when I told you that? I know you, and you would definitely have had a comeback.”
“I told you that I did indeed have a tight ass.” He ran the knuckles of one hand down my arm and gave me the sexiest fucking look in the history of the world. “As in virgin tight. As in never-had-a-man-inside-me tight.”
“As in if you don’t quit teasing me, I’m going to pull this car over and fuck you up against that light pole in front of God and everybody.”
Jason pulled away with a smug smile. “You’re blushing again, Dr. Perfect.”
“No, I’m not. I’m just so damn hard my face is turning red.” To illustrate the point, I adjusted my dick, making sure he got a good look at the bulge that now stretched down the left leg of my jeans.
“You’re really proud of that thing, aren’t you?”
I raised an eyebrow and looked over at him. “Do you like it?”
“Hell, yeah, I like it,” he said, his voice slightly breathless.
“Then I’m proud of it.”
He leaned toward me across the car and wrapped his hand around the imprint of my dick, cupping it as best he could while it was sheathed in denim. “You dress to the left, I see.”
I sucked in a sharp breath at the feel of his hand massaging up and down my swollen flesh. “Why don’t you stop making observations about my cock and do something with it?”
His lips stretched into an evil grin as he unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans. “Think you can drive if I take it out and suck it?”
I bit back a groan and lifted my hips off of the seat so that he could work his hand in and pull my cock up through my open fly. “You just get that hot mouth of yours on there and leave the driving to me.”
I gasped when I felt the heat and the pressure of his lips around my cock. With all of the dirty talk he’d been doing, I was near the point of exploding in his mouth already. I leaned the seat back to give him better access and tried my best to keep my eyes on the road and my foot working the pedals properly.
And then my eyes nearly crossed. Good lord, he was good with that mouth. His tongue seemed to be everywhere at once as he lapped at me mercilessly. Then he started sucking, and I nearly lost my grip on the wheel.
“Sweet Jesus, where did you learn to suck a dick?”
Jason pulled off long enough to look up at me and lick his lips. “I told you I could do things.”
“Do things.” I chuckled, but then his mouth was back on me, and I was groaning. I fucked up into his throat over and over so enthusiastically that I came within inches of slamming us into the back of a pickup truck. “Holy fuck, J. Stop. Stop. You’re going to get us killed.”
Instead of stopping, he went to work even harder. We were stopped at a traffic light now, and I chanced a glance over at the car next to me. There was only one person in the car—a man—and he was watching avidly as I got my dick sucked.
Normally, something like that would have instantly killed it for me, but Jason’s mouth on my cock had me too worked up to care. Let the guy watch. Let him pull his own dick out and start stroking. Hell, he could have recorded it and posted the video on Good Morning America, and I wouldn’t have given a shit. I was about to come in Jason’s sweet mouth, and that was all that mattered in that moment.
Traffic started moving again, and it was all I could do to remember which pedal was the brake and which was the gas. I was squeezing the steering wheel so hard my knuckles had turned white. Somehow I got us moving again, but my brain was fried. I was truly afraid I was going to wreck.
“Come in my mouth,” Jason gasped from down below, and an idea had never sounded so good. He continued to stroke my cock with his skilled fingers as he looked up at me with those big blue eyes. “When I start sucking again, you fill me up, okay?”
“I’d like to fill you up, all right,” I said through gritted teeth.
Then his mouth was on me again, and I could have sworn I’d died and gone to heaven. That tongue was ridiculous, like a wet hand jerking me off while he sucked.
“Your tongue,” I said. “What the fuck are you doing to me? That’s— Ahhhh Jesus…” And then I was coming so hard I saw stars in front of me on the road. Heat washed over my entire body as everything inside me tensed and then released, and I was suddenly boneless and tingling all over.
Jason sat up and grabbed the wheel, a self-satisfied smile gracing his gorgeous face. “Was that the first blowjob you’ve ever gotten in a car?”
My voice was slurred like I’d been drinking when I said, “If that was a blowjob, I don’t think I’ve ever had one before at all.”
14
Jason
After our X-rated car ride, I was feeling much better, but Mark insisted on taking me to his therapist for an emergency consultation. Dr. Roberts was in his early forties and dark-haired like Mark, but not nearly as handsome. He had a nice smile, though, and green eyes that communicated understanding with every glance.
While Mark sat in the small waiting room, Dr. Roberts took me into his office and beckoned me to sit on a comfy green sofa. Everything was green in his office, from the moss-colored walls to the calming pastoral paintings lining the walls.
I hadn’t particularly wanted to talk about my problems, especially with someone I’d never met before, but his smile made me weak and vulnerable. I supposed that smile was a good tool for a therapist to have in his arsenal. In the end, I’d looked into his deep green eyes and spilled my guts. I�
�d even told him about my family, and that was something I never talked about.
I didn’t tell him about what was going on between Mark and me. That felt way too personal, not to mention the fact that Mark was in the closet. There was no way I was telling Mark’s secrets, even to a man who probably already knew more about him than I did.
Dr. Roberts decided I was sufficiently fucked up to score a prescription of Xanax, and he scheduled a two-week follow-up with me. Before we left, he gave Mark a stern look and told him he needed to schedule a visit as well.
“It’s been several months,” he said. “I need an update on what’s going on with you.”
Mark smiled. “Everything is fine in my life. It’s Jason who’s going through some shit right now.”
“Well, I still need to see you every now and then, even if it’s just to grab a coffee and chat. I’m not trying to hound you for business, Mark. I’d just like to know you’re okay. I sense there have been some…changes since we last spoke.” He glanced pointedly at me and back to Mark.
“You want to know if I came out to my parents?”
Dr. Roberts shrugged. “Among other things.”
“Well, the answer to that one is no. I have not come out to them, or anyone else for that matter.” He grinned sheepishly, and his eyes slid to me. “Well, I came out to Jason, if you hadn’t figured that out for yourself. You know we’re partners at work, and we, um— Damn, doc, I can’t talk about this with J here.”
Dr. Roberts smiled. “That’s why I suggested you schedule a visit, silly.” He clapped Mark on the shoulder and pulled him in for a hug. “Just go take care of Jason, and we’ll see each other soon.” To me, he said, “Let him help you through this, okay? We all need a friend to lean on when things get tough. And call me if you need anything. Mark has my number.”
“Thanks, Dr. Roberts.” I shook his hand followed Mark out through the maze of hallways and back to the car.
It was afternoon now, and the sun hung low over the West side of town. Mark’s place wasn’t far from Dr. Roberts’s office.
“We need to get these treats to Bill,” Mark said as he drove. “I can’t wait to see if he likes them. Can you imagine? It will be like having his own chef.”
“Uptown kitty.” I really tried to keep the bitterness out of my tone, but I didn’t succeed completely.
It was sweet that Mark was excited about my cat having gourmet treats, but I wasn’t going to be able to buy them for him on a regular basis. Things like that were part of Mark’s life, not mine. I barely had enough to eat and get back and forth to work. I didn’t splurge on anything except the ridiculous country club membership I’d gotten just to be close to Mark.
It was difficult to explain these things to people because no one ever got it. Why did I live like a pauper when I made decent enough money? I couldn’t tell them the truth without looking like an idiot, so I kept it all bottled up inside. I ignored it when people eyed me skeptically as if they thought I had an undisclosed gambling problem or something, preferring that scenario to the truth. Even Mark didn’t know where my money went, and I planned on keeping it that way.
“You know, I’ll bet he would like one of those fancy jungle gyms they make for cats,” Mark went on. “You’ve seen those things, haven’t you? When I was growing up, one of my neighbors had one that took up half the living room. But then she also had a bunch of cats. Maybe ten.”
“I’ve never seen a cat playground that big,” I said. “And I don’t know if Bill likes to play. He seems pretty content just to cuddle and follow me around.”
Mark shrugged. “It was just an idea. I don’t know anything about cats.”
“So, you never had a cat before?”
“Never had a pet before, period. I wanted a dog, but Mother hates animals.”
I gasped. “Why in the world would someone hate animals?”
Mark looked over at me with wide, startled eyes. “No, I didn’t mean it that way. Hate is too strong a word. I think maybe she just doesn’t feel comfortable around them.” He shrugged, looking shy and vulnerable all of a sudden. “I know she comes off like a bitch, but she’s really not as bad as she seems. It’s this life. It does something to a person. You know what I mean?”
I didn’t think I did, but then my life wasn’t all peaches and cream, either. I studied Mark as he drove. That look on his face—so damned vulnerable and unlike his Ken-doll mask he wore at work—and for the first time, I felt sorry for him. He looked like he was drowning, so I decided to throw him a life preserver.
“My dad makes your mom look like Mother Theresa,” I said with a chuckle.
“Really?” His surprise turned to something like relief. “I figured you had one of those eighties sit-com families with the parents who always say the right thing.”
I laughed. “Dropping pearls of wisdom at the end of every episode? I’m afraid not. There’s a reason I don’t talk about my family, Mark.”
God, was I really telling him this? Maybe Dr. Roberts had loosened my tongue permanently with his magic smile and eyes like green pools of sympathy. Whatever the reason, telling Mark the secrets I’d kept locked away for so many years didn’t seem quite so scary.
“Were you…abused?” Mark asked hesitantly.
“No, no, nothing like that. I mean, they didn’t hit me if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Sometimes words can hurt worse than a fist,” he mused darkly, his eyes seemingly focused on some distant memory rather than the parking space he was pulling into.
We got out of the car and headed up to Mark’s apartment, each carrying a takeout bag of goodies. Mark had wrestled me for the cat treats, and I’d chuckled at his excitement and settled for carrying the leftover petit fours and cookies. None of the fruit had made it out of the restaurant alive.
“Bill,” Mark called as soon as we’d breached his apartment door. I was about to tell him that Bill didn’t answer to his name, but the cat trotted into the room and rubbed against Mark’s leg, purring loudly.
Fucking traitor, I thought with a smile.
Mark dropped right down onto the floor, reached into the bag, and pulled out a fish-shaped cookie varnished with a coat of white icing. Bill sniffed it for a moment before taking it from Mark’s hand and hurrying off down the hall to parts unknown. Though I hadn’t yet explored the rest of the apartment, Bill had apparently made himself at home.
“Let’s follow him,” Mark said, dragging himself up off the floor and tiptoeing after Bill.
We found the cat in the guest room that Mark had converted into a gym. He’d taken his treat into a corner and was exuberantly licking at the icing, oblivious to our presence.
“I think it’s safe to say he likes it,” I said.
Mark beamed and stepped closer, watching the cat with a fascination that I found inexplicably endearing. “We’re going to have to order more.”
I glanced around the room, which was almost as large as my entire apartment and filled with high-dollar gym equipment. There was a weight machine, a weight bench, a yoga station surrounded by well-maintained houseplants, and even a full-wall mirror with a barre stretched along its length.
“Where’s your tutu?” I asked, unable to resist teasing him.
He regarded me with a confused expression, his forehead bunching into the most adorable stack of creases. “My tutu?”
I gestured toward the barre. “I had no idea you were a closet ballerina.”
“Oh.” His forehead smoothed, and a smile spread across his face. “The trainer who designed this room insisted on the barre. I figured I could lean on it when I wore myself out on the weight bench.”
“So, you don’t dance?” I was serious now, curious to know if there was a side of Mark Johnson I had yet to see.
“No, I don’t.” He stepped closer until he was right up in my personal space. “But if I did, I certainly wouldn’t be wearing a tutu. I’d prefer the look of a sleek white pair of tights that accentuate my package.” He flicked h
is eyes downward, and my own gaze instinctively followed.
I could tell he was hard. With a dick that big, no tights were needed to accentuate what he had down there.
“Of course, you would,” I breathed.
It was getting harder to resist the thought of letting Mark use that thing on me, but I couldn’t give in. I’d told him he’d have to earn the privilege, and it would ruin everything if I backed down now. As much as I wanted to be weak, I knew what would happen if I gave in too easily, and I wasn’t ready for this to end.
I cleared my throat and took a step back, suddenly feeling much too vulnerable. A blowjob in the car was one thing, but things were moving along at warp speed now. He’d be wanting more soon, and every moment we spent together alone in his apartment was one moment closer to me giving in. One moment closer to things getting awkward between us.
Mark cocked his head and took a step toward me, closing the gap I’d made between us. “Something wrong?”
“N-no,” I stammered.
“You sure? Because just a little while ago, you were giving me the best head of my life, and now you’re backing away like I’m making you nervous.” He raised a hand and cupped my cheek. “Am I making you nervous?”
“A little,” I confessed. “I just— Well, I don’t want to tease you into thinking something more is going to happen.”
He dropped his hand from my face, and it was his turn to step back. He shoved his hands into his pockets. “So that’s it? A dry hump and a blowjob, and now we’re done?” His voice was quiet, his tone resigned, as if he’d just received a winning lottery ticket only to find out it was a fake.
“No!” I opened and close my mouth a couple of times, searching for the right words to fix what I’d just done. God, how could I explain without sounding like a manipulative jerk? Or worse, a fucking idiot. “I uh… want to do more. Just not that. Not yet.”
He gave a sad smile and raised his eyebrows a fraction. “If I remember correctly, we were just talking about ballet tights. I didn’t offer to fuck you.”
“I know,” I said, my face heating. Because he was right. He hadn’t done anything but stand close to me and make a dirty joke. He was flirting, obviously, but I was the one who had assumed. I was the one who had taken his innocent comment all the way to sex.