Marcus in Retrograde

by S A Sommers

  I choked. “You really want to go there?”

  He turned bright pink. “Jesus. No. Not even close.”

  We laughed as another group of fans accosted us good-naturedly on the train.

  “You like Thai?” I asked Chase.

  “I like anything that you can’t find in Buttfuck Nowhere. Thai, Ethiopian, Indian, Afghani, Filipino, sushi, Korean. Whatever. Anything not Chinese and burgers. I like burgers, but not as a habit.”

  “I’m going to wager that you’re from a small town and couldn’t wait to get out.”

  “Half right,” Chase said, quietly. “I am from a small town, but they couldn’t wait to get me out.”

  I felt a little crestfallen on that. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up anything bad.”

  He waved me off. “Long time ago. I’m happy and well established here with a great group of friends.”

  “Except Felix.”

  Chuckling, he nodded. “Except Felix.”

  The Thai place was between our subway stop and our apartment building. We probably ordered enough for an army between the two of us, but it wouldn’t go to waste.

  Chase led us up to the door, and then pointed to mine. “Get the pooch. Bring him over and we’ll take him out for a walk later.”

  “Good call,” I said. “There’s also a really good cupcake place on the other side of the square. We’ll get dessert.”

  Pollux happily trotted over to the other door as soon as I opened mine and wandered right in. I stared at him and followed after locking mine.

  “My dog is a traitor.”

  Chase laughed from where he was in the kitchen. “Have a seat. I’m sure your dog is already on the couch.”

  I turned around and found the dog in the living room, on the couch. “Pollux, you can be a real jerk sometimes,” I said, sitting down next to him.

  “Turn on the TV. Put whatever you like on. I’ll be there in a second. Beer?”

  “God, no…no more beer. Soda? Water? Anything like that is fine.” I grabbed the remote and clicked on the television.

  He had a super extra smart TV that he could apparently listen or watch just about anything on. I saw the Audible app and clicked on it for the hell of it.

  The first seven titles were mine.

  Not my lit fic ones, either. All seven were my gay romance reads.

  Holy crap.

  I tossed a look over my shoulder back at the kitchen, and saw he was still puttering around. I click on the first title and…there were bookmarks. About ten of them. I navigated to the first one, and checked the volume before hitting play.

  I hated listening to my voice, but there it was quietly rising out of the speakers at one of the dirtiest parts of the book I had narrated. I skipped to the next. Same thing—filth. They were all marking the dirty parts of the books.

  “What are you doing?”

  I slammed on the power button and whirled up and off the couch. Chase was standing in the door holding plates and the Thai food. “Uh…”

  He slumped a bit, and dropped the food on the coffee table. “Here. Enjoy. I’ll get the drinks.” He turned to walk back to the kitchen.

  “Chase.”

  He stopped. I took a deep breath.

  “I’m sorry. I saw my name and you were so excited about my lit fic book, I thought…” I took a deep breath. “I was curious what you were bookmarking in the other titles.”

  Shaking his head, he kept walking.

  Shit, fuck, damn.

  I stood in the middle of his living room, looking around like an idiot, trying to figure out what to do. As soon as I heard the first bit of dirty dialogue, I should have just quit the app and went to the regular programing. Pollux whined from where he was on the couch.

  The first thing I should’ve done after that humiliating move was just grabbed my dog and left.

  I didn’t.

  He walked back in, and sighed sitting down.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “That was wrong. That was an invasion of your privacy and I’m sorry.”

  He pursed his lips. “It’s really not all that different than me going through your pictures when you’re not there.”

  “I don’t want this to be awkward.”

  He tossed his head back. “Oh that ship sailed when I realized you’re Marcus Chastain, award winning audiobook narrator.”

  “Wait, when did you realize that?” I was genuinely confused.

  “The first night I walked Pollux.”

  “I thought you only knew Too Far?”

  Chase rolled his head to the cushion on the back of the couch and laughed. “I bought that because I bought all the other ones.”

  Oh, shit. I plunked my ass back on the couch. “So this has been slightly awkward for you all along. I’m just boarding the awkward boat now.”

  He let out a breath. “Yeah. I guess we could say that.”

  “So, uh…you like gay romance, eh?”

  The laugh he let out peeled through the room, startling my dog—and me, to be honest.

  “That would also be an understatement.” He sat up and grabbed the remote, turning on some streaming music so the room had a softer feel to it. Much better than just seconds before.

  “Why so many of mine?”

  His eyebrow arched up delicately and he cocked his head. “Your voice, man. You have a fuck me bedroom voice. It makes…” He hung his head. “Jesus. I have to explain this, don’t I?”

  “You don’t. I can go.”

  His hand landed on my knee, and he looked slightly panicked. “No, I can explain. But it’s a bit of TMI, when it’s all said and done.”

  I leaned back against the couch cushions. “I’m pretty hard to shock. Hit me.”

  “I masturbate to them.”

  I was pretty sure my eyebrows flew off my face, and my dick hit the back of my zipper with an audible ting. “Okay, you got me.”

  Chase was bright, bright red, and he had moved his hand from my knee, and was nervously lacing and unlacing his fingers. “I’m a demi.”

  “A what?”

  “Demi. Romantic.” He strung the two words together. “I don’t feel sexual desire until after I’ve formed an emotional and intellectual bond. But that doesn’t mean I don’t get horny. The problem lies in the fact that regular porn does plllbbbttt shit for me. Normal male visual and sensory stimulation don’t work for getting me there. I need more. I need a formed attachment.

  “At first, I would read the M-M romances a few times and feel like I got to know the characters. That helped. But when I found audiobooks… It was a whole new world. And listening to your sultry tones added another layer to it. So I listened. Over and over. And I have the stories memorized.”

  “And you…” God, who was I discussing this like a mature adult? I hadn’t once used the term pull your pud in relation to his dick and my voice. “…would use that.”

  Chase nodded once. “I need to know people before I can feel sexual desire, and reading and listening to the entire Toxic Kiss series in your voice…”

  He let out a breath and rolled his eyes. “Shit. This is why I don’t date. This is why every single relationship I have ever had has failed. It’s so fucking hard to explain this. Kieran was good with it, but there was no spark—and other men I’ve gone out with don’t get it. For them, sex is mechanical, a necessary, enjoyable biological development.” He tapped his forehead. “I get stuck being the town faggot who doesn’t like to just have sex for shits and giggles and get run off because the mayor’s son wanted a convenient ass to play with.”

  “And you weren’t playing.”

  Chase turned and stared at me. “He was my literal nemesis for all my life. A bully and a jerk. And then he discovers he’s gay and I’m going to bend over and let him fuck me? Hell. No.”

  Snatching a carton of Pad See Ew, he stabbed his chopsticks into it angrily and shoveled some into his mouth.

  I couldn’t hold back the smirk on my lips. “So…you like gay romance, then.”


  He choked on the noodles and stared at me. Half a second later, all the tension in the air broke and we both burst into laughter. I had to grab the carton of food from him before he dumped it on the couch, and we just took a minute to let ourselves laugh and collect our thoughts.

  Holding up a finger, he shook it in my face. “I just want you to know that I don’t only read and listen to gay romance. I also read lit fic, straight romance, urban fantasy, and paranormal romance.”

  I giggled like a toddler. “I’ll bet you read all the straight stuff just to hear about the male main character’s junk and prowess.”

  He looked offended. “I’m sorry, there’s another reason?”

  “Well, it’s okay if you’re a little homoflexible.”

  Chase shivered dramatically. “Ugh. Vagina.” He drooped a bit, and sighed. “That makes me sound like Felix. I don’t have a problem with women.”

  “I didn’t think you did,” I answered. “How old?”

  “Well, I think I suspected when I was really young, like seven, or eight. But I didn’t know how to articulate that. When I kissed Vicky Turnbull at the eighth grade dance, I knew for sure I didn’t like girls because I wished she was Brad Vandergraff.” He sighed heavily. “Brad…”

  I laughed. “Brad, eh?”

  “I tutored him. He was just the worst at anything literary or artsy. He couldn’t string a sentence together if you gave him the string and laid out the words in order. Math whiz. Tutored me so I didn’t fail miserably.”

  “What happened to dreamy Brad Vandergraff?”

  “He kissed Vicky.” His voice was so put out at that. It was adorable.

  Oh shit.

  He picked up the carton of Thai noodles again. “You?”

  “I was pretty sure I was straight, I didn’t even mind kissing girls. Irene, Marcia… I even scandalized Najwa’s family by kissing her. Thankfully, her parents were trying to be more open than strict traditional Iraqi, so it turned out fine.”

  He watched me, and shoveled more food into his mouth. “How’d you finally realize?” The words came out around the food, and I didn’t know how he did that. But I wanted to see him try with my cock in there.

  Oh shit.

  “I…uh. I dated Emma for two years, so when we were seventeen, it just seemed the right time to take the next step in our relationship.”

  “Didn’t work out?”

  “I had to pretend she was Johnny Depp to finally seal the deal.”

  “Pirate Johnny, Edward Scissorhands Johnny?”

  I coughed. “Ed Wood Johnny.”

  “Oh, you are so gay!”

  Sighing, I picked up my carton for Lad Na. “I am. I really am. I think it’s why I take on all the gay romance novels that I do. They make me feel like the world may finally someday just get over itself and let men love men or women or men and women.”

  He gasped, “Ménages?”

  “Better.” I leaned in close. “Harems. Why choose?”

  “Oh to have a harem at my disposal.” He sighed.

  “You know there’s a whole subgenre of reverse harems, right?”

  “You can’t have a reverse harem. A stable of available sex is still a stable of available sex.” The slow rise of his eyebrow was goddamned adorable.

  “It’s a way to connotate that there are stallions in the stables, not fillies,” I explained. “And some of them? Are really hot when the men get to ride each other while the others watch, or ride along.”

  “Are we comparing human sexual interaction to horses right now?” Chase looked confused and distressed.

  “Wanna read one? I’m supposed to record the audio for it next week.”

  “Oh, sweet Jesus, no.”

  “The two guys didn’t know they were bi before getting together with the heroine.” I waggled my eyebrows. “Lots of dirty details.”

  “And straight sex.”

  “Not just. Just yes…mixed in.”

  “Fine, I’ll take a copy.”

  I started laughing. “You’re easy to please.”

  Chase grabbed the remote, and flicked on the streaming options for television. “I’m not. I’m really, really not.”

  CHASE

  MARCUS WOUND UP ON MY COUCH on Monday night, and we ate pizza. We talked for hours about stupid shit like my coworkers and the graphic design world.

  Pollux barked at the wall all night.

  Tuesday was Indian. Hours and hours about how bad the last Superman movie was despite the absolute gorgeous nature of Henry Cavill.

  Pollux was still barking at the wall.

  Wednesday was German. I had no idea there was a take out German place nearby, but the brats were to die for, and no one had ever turned down kartofflepuffers. We picked up on a bad superheroes movies in the 90s and lamented the loss of good quality bad movies like Meteor Man. I also missed campy Batman, but only a little.

  Pollux, still on a mission to make the wall his bitch, barked all night long.

  Thursday night, he brought Mexican from the little place near his office that he hadn’t been able to get off his mind for two weeks. We talked about the stupidity it took to allow some random person access to the internal files of a business.

  “I mean, it’s all solved now, and poor Hardy feels just effing awful,” he said, gesturing with a burrito. “Jerry just cannot find someone who can help him catch up on years, and I mean years of backlog on updates and organization. I don’t know why Hardy didn’t say something.”

  “Saying something is a hallmark of our generation,” I said. “We were never brushed off when we asked for help. Older generations were taught to suffer through.” I pulled my empanada in two pieces to let it cool a bit more. “My grandfather used to refuse to take his Ultram because he swore the doctor had told him it was better to suffer through the pain. Meanwhile, you and I both know suffering through is utter shit medical advice. Medicine exists to help us get through things like pain and help us breathe.”

  “Which is why we ask for help. We don’t have to be these masculine macho badasses anymore.”

  I huffed. “Speak for yourself. I’m a masculine macho badass every day.”

  “Uh…”

  “Oh fuck off, I look good in lavender.”

  “You do.” He nodded.

  Huh… Moving on…

  “If you know anyone who is looking for an IT position with good benefits and a nice boss who won’t fire their ass for a major fuck up, send them my way. Hardy is close to breaking.” Marcus shrugged.

  I sat up from the cushions. “Actually, I might. He’s trying to get his life back together after some shit, and I think that he might be perfect. He needs to not be around people much, but he’s amazing at IT.”

  “Do it! Give him my number and get me his resume!” Marcus fist pumped, and laughed. “Hardy will be so grateful for any kind of help. No one realized how overwhelmed the poor guy was.”

  I smiled. “Raph is a good guy, and his brothers are worried about him. If we can get him back into the—”

  “Ssh!” Marcus snapped, putting a finger to my lips.

  Lightning shot through me from the tip of his finger through my entire body.

  His eyes snapped to mine.

  He felt it too.

  “…mrow…”

  Pollux jumped up on the couch and started barking at the wall.

  “Pollux, hush!” I said, and pushed him down off the couch.

  “…mrow…”

  Marcus and I stared at each other.

  “Is that a cat?” I breathed.

  “I think it’s a kitten.” His voice was hushed.

  “…mrow…”

  “Oh, my God,” I whispered. “There are kittens in the wall.”

  He leapt up from the couch and ran out the door of my apartment. I heard him banging next door for a moment and then he was back.

  With a toolbox.

  “What—”

  “We have to get them out,” he said, breathlessly. “We don’
t know if the mama can get to them, and we sure as Hell don’t know if they can get out.”

  He put the tools on the coffee table as I scrambled to get the food into the kitchen—so we wouldn’t mess it up, and Pollux wouldn’t help himself to a burrito.

  I came back in to find him gently tapping on the wall. As he got close to one spot near the end, the plaintive meows grew a little louder. He moved away again, and they grew soft. He checked up and down and finally settled on a spot.

  “Here. Hand me the grease pencil.”

  Plucking it out of the top tray, he took it from me and started making a square. “I’m going to start above them, and see if we can’t lift them out.”

  He dropped the pencil back in and grabbed a yellow box with lights on it, and pressed the two buttons on the side. It beeped and I realized it was a stud finder. He placed it on the wall and found the beams that were on either side of the meowing.

  Handing it back to me, he pointed to the box. “Chisel. The thinner one. And a hammer.”

  I grabbed the clear yellow handle and presented it to him. He held his hand out for the small ball-peen hammer I was offering and tapped the handle. The chisel plowed through the wallboard, and he made a quick, neat line across the wall. He went up about six inches and made another.

  The cries from behind the wallboard were desperate and frightened and I couldn’t believe we were digging a hole in the wall to save kittens.

  A quick line of cracks down the center of the wallboard square, and Marcus was able to pop the first piece off in one shot, and then pop the other off.

  “Flashlight?”

  There was a pen light in the top tray so that’s what I handed him. He pointed it down and I heard scrabbling against the wall.

  “Oh, my God, they are so cute!” he declared. “Looks like…four of them. I think I can just reach in and grab them.”

  “Wait, let’s get something to put them in,” I said, and raced for the bedroom. I found my tall laundry basket and inverted it, leaving dirty socks and underwear all over the floor. Didn’t care at that moment. I grabbed a fresh towel from the bathroom and tucked it at the bottom.

  Marcus was still peering into the hole, and making soft sounds at the creatures. His eyes were shining with delight as I put the laundry basket next to him.