Marcus in Retrograde

by S A Sommers

  She waved a hand at me, as if to say, “See?”

  Marcus walked to me, dropped a kiss on my lips and headed back to the door. “I’m going to go hide in my apartment and try not to die from embarrassment.” The door to the apartment closed, Marcus abandoning me to the whims of his mother.

  I glanced at Dawn. “Are you really going to give me a condom speech?”

  “No, because I believe you’re smart enough to know the speech by heart.” She glanced at the door after her son. “When he came out to us, we had to figure out how to raise a gay man. Not that we were going to change the basics like pick up your socks and don’t be a jerk to people. But the sex education had to be different.” She pinched her nose. “I was terrified. Terrified, that…

  “My older brother was gay, and the hookup culture of today has nothing on gay hookup culture of the late 70s and 80s. He was diagnosed with AIDS before it was called that. They were calling it Kaposi's sarcoma and opportunistic infection if you felt like being courteous. If not, you called it GRID. In either case, my brother Marcus was diagnosed in 1981, and was dead by ‘83. I didn’t want to see my son suffer that way. We’ve always kept up on AIDS research and I made sure that not just he, but all of my children were sexually smart.”

  I traced an ‘X’ across my chest. “I swear to you, we would never consider it without first having been tested for everything. Because AIDS is not great, and neither is the Clap.”

  “Good man.” She patted my shoulder. “I approve.”

  I pushed open the door of the room, eternally grateful that I had the money for a regular hotel. Maybe the Best Western wasn’t the Ritz, but it was better than Betty’s Motor Inn in town.

  I tossed my bag on the couch. “Welcome to Greenman, Illinois. Middle of Buttfuck Nowhere.”

  Marcus nodded. “I can see that.” He slipped his bag off his shoulder. “It’s an interesting…nowhere.”

  “It’s not interesting. It’s boring and insular and homophobic and racist. Probably with a good dollop of sexism and misogyny tossed in.” I stared out the window of the room. “Christ, I cannot believe I’m back here.”

  “Would you have left if they hadn’t kicked you out?”

  “That was the plan. College, anywhere but here, and just never come back.” I rubbed my eyes. “I’m not even sure this is the right thing to do. They were horrible to me. I didn’t even really have the chance to come out to them. I was outed. I was waiting because I knew they wouldn’t want me there anymore. I was going to tell them at a point where I would have been safe.”

  Marcus slid his arms around my waist and perched his chin on my shoulder. “You don’t have to do this.”

  “You know what stopped me from telling you to turn around and go home? The whole ride here?” He shook his head. “Your mother.”

  “My mother?”

  “She’s amazing, Marc. Fucking amazing. She just accepts you. She just trusts you. Shit, I’d give my arm to have one sixteenth of the acceptance you have in your family.”

  “You can borrow her.” He laughed.

  “Christ, she told us to sleep in the same bed!”

  “We’re adults.”

  I turned my head so I could catch his gaze. “She was fine with her son having sex with another man.”

  “We’re gay, that’s what it means, right? Enjoying sexual relations with the male of the species? Have I been doing this wrong?” He planted a sloppy kiss on my cheek. “My mom is amazing. I know that. I know she’s unique, she’ll give hugs to every gay person in the village if they need it. She’s accepting, she’s open, and she’s helped me be the man I am right now.” He turned me in his arms to face him. “You can totally borrow her. I’m serious. She’ll have you believing you can do anything, love anyone, live anyway you like in about ten seconds. And while I would have loved to have my dad come down, somehow, she knew she was the better option. For you.”

  “Fuck, man,” I said, and leaned my forehead on his chest.

  “Take everything she gave you in the few hours you chatted and use it. You may never ever get to that point with your parents, but you can take what she said and try.”

  I nodded against him. “Try. That’s why I’m here. They want to try, and I would love it if I could talk to them again. I don’t expect this to go well, or to be close to them again, but…just not hating them would be amazing.”

  “Then let’s hope for the best and prepare for the worst.”

  “The worst being I leave and really truly never come back.”

  Marcus nodded. “Exactly.”

  He just stood there holding me, running a hand up and down my back for a minute before I felt him heave a deep breath, and tip his head to look at me. “Did…did my mom really give you the condom talk?”

  Laughing, I raised my head. “No, she didn’t. She told me about your uncle, though.”

  “Oh, my namesake.” He smiled. “She and her brother were thick as thieves growing up. More than she and Aunt Laura ever were, even though they were closer in age.”

  “You really are lucky, Marcus. You know that.”

  “Every day. Every time I meet another member of the community who can’t talk to their parents. Every time I see a homeless queer kid on the street. I thank everything in the universe that I have my mom and dad.” He kissed me quietly. “And you can borrow them. They really are quite awesome.”

  I smiled. “I get it. You don’t want to be the only one suffering through your mom’s condom lecture.”

  “You see right through me.” He laughed.

  He danced us backward to the bed, and before I knew what was going on, he had me down on the mattress, and he stood over me. I lifted up on my elbows and studied him.

  “You look good enough to eat, Chase.” His hand reached for my belt. “In fact, I think I will.”

  His hand flicked open the buckle, and all I could do was nod and make incomprehensible noises. He had me out of the pants and out of my boxers in record time and before I could say a thing, he slipped his lips over the crown of my half hard…nope, fully hard dick.

  My mind blanked. The only thing I liked more than Marcus’ mouth on me, was his cock in me. Or was it my cock in him? At that moment, I didn’t care. His tongue licked around me, and then up the insanely sensitive underside, and then across my slit.

  I didn’t know how many times we’d done this, either him to me or me to him. It didn’t matter. Each and every time was as good or better than the last.

  He swallowed me down to the root—which was a totally new trick for him and made me squeal. “Holy shit, Marcus!”

  Bobbing his head up and down a few times, he stopped and waited for me to look at him. He pulled off me completely, and grinned. “Watch me, Chase. I want you to watch me suck you.”

  I was totally unsure if anything even remotely like English came out of my mouth. It was more buhblergarghohshhhh, but it worked. Marcus kept going, and he loved that I watched him. It was his usual request. I could feel the head of my dick bumping the back of his throat, and his throat closing around me in a ripple. It was a mind-blowing sensation.

  Cock blowing? Whatever.

  He swallowed at the same time he caressed the under side with that tongue of his. He moved, bobbing up and down on my erection, swallowing and licking, twisting a bit.

  His hand found my balls and cradled them a moment. Shit, his fingers felt good. He was firm and gentle, massaging them while he still speared me into his throat. All the while, he would not let my eyes go. He watched me watching him.

  “Oh, God, Marcus…”

  He pulled off completely. “You gonna come for me, baby? I want you in my mouth.”

  I nodded as he dropped back down. “I’m going to come. Just keep going, babe. Suck me down. Had no idea you could deep throat me—ahhhh!”

  The pad of his thumb brushed over my hole, stopping and pressing there, teasing me. It wasn’t expected, and I came hard without warning.

  Marcus swallowed every drop of
my cum. I could see the mirth in his eyes after the lust tampered down a moment after my last thrust. He licked and sucked his way back up my cock, and let it pop out with a lascivious sound, echoing in the room.

  “Someone liked that.” He grinned, and wiped his chin with the back of his hand.

  Even that was sexy.

  “I’ll let you know when something you do doesn’t feel good or make me come in seconds.”

  He stood and crawled up the bed. “What if it’s something you don’t like and it makes you come in seconds?”

  “I somehow think that’s not possible,” I was still blissed out and flopped back, staring at the ceiling, but I managed to find Marcus’ buckle and free him from his pants one handed. I lazily stroked his rock hard erection.

  “Mmm,” he breathed. “That feels good. Just…keep doing that.”

  He was happy with my lazy hand job, for a few minutes. But eventually, he had better ideas for his cock. And I was all for it.

  MARCUS

  THE GARCIA FARM WAS A WORK IN progress. The farmhouse in the center of the land was old. Really old, but it had an addition on the back and was well taken care of. The barn was restored and it looked like there was a ring for horseback riding. There was another smaller barn, way more modern, that seemed to hold the equipment.

  And way in the back was a small house, with a dirt path leading to a porch that was just teeming with flower pots and trays.

  It was clear that the Garcias were no longer farmers, save for some token acreage around the house. There was corn, as seemed to be required in Illinois, as well as soybeans, wheat, and a giant patch of vines.

  “Pumpkin?” I asked.

  Chase smiled at the vines on the right. “It was my Abuelita’s idea, after Abuelo died. She wanted to do something fun with the farm, not make my dad and mom farm for a living, but not give it up completely. The Garcia Pumpkin Patch is one of the county’s best. Dad rotated it through the fields each year.”

  He pointed to the distance where there was more corn and soybean fields, that were more typical of farms. “That’s still our land, but dad leased it to a collective and lets them plant and harvest what they need to.” Pausing, he glanced out to the corn. “Their land. Not mine. Not ours. Theirs.”

  I didn’t react to his words. “So you grew up with a pumpkin patch?”

  “Oh, yeah.” Chase smiled, looking back. “I loved working the pumpkins in October. It was so much fun. Abuelita and I would go out in the middle of September and start weeding and moving the pumpkins into rows. It was a lot of work, but she and I would walk and move and sing some of the songs she remembered from when she was little in Spain.”

  “So you’re Spanish?”

  “Half Spanish, half Latino. Mom’s family came up from Mexico in the early 1800s. One of my greats hated the heat and moved the whole family up here. Cortez, no relation.”

  I laughed. “I didn’t think so.”

  “My grandmother and grandfather’s family fled Spain in the 30s, just before Franco took over. They were so young. Abeulita was just five.”

  “Do you speak Spanish?”

  “Only my grandmother’s Galician, which is long mangled and sounds more like Portuguese than anything else.” He laughed.

  “Is the little old lady watering the flowers on that porch your grandmother?”

  He spun and looked. A smile like no other I had seen lit up his face, and he popped the door open. He jumped out, and ran for the little dirt path. I shut the car off and climbed out, following at a more reasonable pace.

  “Abuelita!” he screamed like a twelve year old.

  She jerked her head up and I could see the shock on her face as we headed closer. She dropped her watering can and came around the pillars and down the stairs. “Chase?”

  He slowed just enough to not knock the woman off her feet and instead wrap her in a huge hug. He could clearly have lifted the woman off the ground in his joy, and that said something because she was not a tiny person. She was maybe two inches shorter than Chase.

  I listened as I walked closer and slowed about ten feet away from them.

  “Oh, dios mio, Chase. Where the hell have you been? Child, I have been worried sick about you!”

  “They never told you?” he asked, still hugging her.

  “No! They said you left and that was it. No one said anything about you after that.” She held him away from her, and studied him, pushing his hair out of his face. “Ay, child, you’re grown.”

  “I’ve been living in New York,” he said. “I can’t believe they didn’t tell you anything.”

  “My son is a stubborn ass,” she said. She studied him. “Did they tell you…”

  “Rider came to get me, and hoped I wouldn’t come.”

  She threw her head back and laughed. “And so you did. That’s the Chase I know.” She glanced over at me. “And who is that?”

  I had to bite my lip. She was eyeballing me like other people eyeballed a prime cut of meat. Chase shook his head, but I saw him take a deep breath at the same time. “Abuelita, this is Marcus. My boyfriend.”

  “Mmm,” was all she said. She stepped back from Chase and circled me like she was sizing up some livestock for sale. I bit my lip again, and choked on the laugh.

  Her eyes slipped over to Chase, and he sighed. She walked over to him, took his hand and gave him an enormous grin. “Nicely done, Grandson. This gentleman is a fine specimen.”

  “Wait…what…” The confusion on his face was comical.

  She shook her finger at him. “Your parents and your brother’s prejudices are the tiny thoughts of tiny minds in this tiny town. I didn’t live here growing up. I grew up in a huge colony of Spaniards who fled from Franco’s rule. Artists, musicians, artisans. A man and man having an affair? Feh! Nothing! My uncle—he was married to a woman, yes, but they shared a lover, a man. Who even knows if my cousin Maria Alina is actually my blood cousin? Doesn’t matter. Hildago made them happy.”

  Chase and I stared at each other. His great uncle had been in a poly relationship? Holy crap.

  “So, you and this handsome man? Whatever. As long as you care about each other and have fun. In bed, out of bed, doesn’t matter.”

  Turning bright red, Chase ran a hand over his face. “Abuelita…”

  “Would you like to come in for some coffee before you walk into Hell?” she asked sweetly.

  “Abuelita… Hell?”

  She looked around the two of us to the driveway. “Ah, Rider isn’t here. Perhaps you should go talk to them now. Rider hasn’t exactly been the most supportive of your father trying to talk to you.”

  “Mom sent him to find me?”

  “Your father.” She nodded. She leaned in. “I had to explain Hildago to him as well before he got it. I didn’t enjoy explaining what a three-way was to my own son.”

  Chase pinched the bridge of his nose, and I just did what I could to keep from busting out laughing. “What do you think? Is it smarter for me to go in without Rider?”

  “I do,” she said. “Leave the boy toy here with me. I’ll feed him and water him, and when you’re ready for him to come join you or rescue you, I’ll send him over.”

  Shaking his head, it was clear Chase wasn’t going to be happy with that. “No. I want him with me. I am not going in there alone. I can’t, Abuelita. I got kicked out of there on my ass, and I’m not sure coming back was the right thing to do…”

  “Phone?” She held her hand out.

  Chase held it out, and she took it from him. Like anyone who was used to handling a cell, she had her contact information in there in a flash. She motioned for mine next and inputted the contact there. Handing it back, I took a quick look at the screen. Maria Felicia (Abuelita) was typed in there—at least now I knew her name.

  “You have one hour to text me, Chase. Or I’m texting your man to tell me to come drag you out.” She dropped a kiss on his cheek. “And then you’re going to come over and we can have dinner and catch up.”


  “Don’t worry, Abuelita. I’m not letting your contact in my phone get cold.” He laughed.

  “Bueno.” She nodded. “Go. Deal with my idiot son and his wife.” She rolled her eyes to the sky and shook her head.

  He took my hand and we headed back toward the car.

  “The female of the species is in mourning for the loss of you, Marcus!”

  “Oh, my God, I forgot about her sass mouth,” Chase groaned.

  “I’d say the same to you, Chase, but I’m your grandmother and that’s gross!”

  I burst out laughing, finally. “Holy crap, Chase, she’s amazing!”

  “Right? I didn’t have a chance to tell her anything before they ran me out of town.” He sighed. “I’ve missed her so much, but I was scared she was on their side. I couldn’t bear it if my grandmother rejected me because I was gay. I just didn’t talk to her.”

  “She wants to make up for it.”

  “Marcus, she’s nuts.” He smirked. “I love her so much.”

  “Good, we’ll have dinner there. It’s gotta be better than Spacey Jo’s Buttermilk Hell.”

  He laughed. “I can’t believe that place was still there. And just as bad as I remember. I’m dying for some real food. They still fry and sauce everything here.”

  “They do.” I nodded. “I never thought I’d say this, but I’d kill for some kale.”

  The laughter wasn’t there this time. His manner was becoming more subdued as we reached the car, and a moment later he was leaning on the trunk. Chase wrapped his arms around himself, and looked at me.

  “Is this the right thing to do?”

  “Yes,” I answered. I wasn’t sure, really, but it was what he needed to hear. “Just the chance to wrap this up one way or another with them. Finish this chapter in the book.”

  He took back the hand he had released a moment before. “You’ll be there. But Marcus…let me talk. Don’t jump to my defense, don’t try to intercede. I need to have this closure. Rider was different, because he insulted you, but these are my parents…and I…”