Marco was completely undone.
It wasn’t just the sensual touch, the burning need in his belly. It was watching Greg so clearly enjoying himself, taking what he needed, finding his place on his knees pleasing his Dom.
Marco let himself lean back onto the couch, no longer controlling the scene, if in fact he ever had been.
Greg licked and sucked gratefully, eyes open now and fixed on Marco’s face.
So good, Marco praised, just to see his smile.
The happiness, the care and delight, in his expression was blinding.
Make me come.
Greg redoubled his efforts and it was like nothing he’d ever imagined. Marco thrust upward, letting his hips take on their own rhythm which Greg quickly picked up and amplified.
He was so close, so deliciously close to the edge. Greg had figured out some amazing combination of tight suction with just a bit of teeth along the top of his shaft while he licked around the head.
He thrust up, again and again, and Greg flowed with him, eagerly welcoming the force and pressure.
And then he was coming, cock throbbing and muscles weak, completely owned by this sweet, sad boy on his knees.
He shook through earthquakes of rapture, every sense focused on that single point of pleasure that was ripping through his whole body.
Greg’s motions slowed with his, until he was simply holding him lightly between his lips, being close.
God, he’d never felt this close to anyone before.
But now, Greg felt too far away in a different way. He pulled him up into his arms and Greg came willingly.
He settled his boy into his lap and Greg nuzzled into his shoulder. Even fully dressed, there was no doubting Greg’s arousal. But he seemed to be calm. At peace. Ready to accept the nurturing that Marco wanted to give him with no expectation of getting off himself.
Marco pressed soft kisses to his forehead, buried his lips in his hair.
At last, he turned his head up.
Thank you, he signed, adoration in his eyes.
Marco kissed his forehead again. There’s never any reason to thank me.
Greg gave him a smile, but it started to go wobbly.
I thought I’d have more time. His face collapsed, his eyes still dry and red.
I know. We’ll go down together to see your family.
Greg nodded, as though this hadn’t occurred to him yet.
Do you want to tell me about her? What was your favorite memory?
Greg blinked at him, as though the words didn’t make sense. And then he blinked again, like he was remembering.
When I was six, I wanted to be a pirate for Halloween…
Chapter 12 Greg
Greg blinked blearily at the shaft of sunlight coming through his bedroom window. He felt spacy, like he’d stepped outside of himself. Memory was slow to return.
And then it all came rushing back. His mother was… he couldn’t even think it.
Her warm smile, her lively expressions as she signed, the flowery smell of her outdated perfume that immediately made him feel at home.
Memories trickled through his mind. Summer vacations and skinned knees. Practical jokes and sly humor. Calm confidence in the face of their financial worries when he was younger and excitement when she successfully built up her own business after he was an adult.
He loved her so much.
His eyes stung, and he turned his face into the pillow, only to have a pair of strong arms wrap around him.
Marco. Thank God for Marco. Marco was holding those memories with him. Holding him together.
He burrowed into his embrace, taking all the comfort that was offered with greedy hands. Marco was here. Marco would take care of him.
He missed his mother with a fierce ache. And he missed Richard with a remembered sorrow.
But Marco was real and solid and here for him.
Marco had even… he shivered at the memory. Marco had let him touch him. Finally. In a way that he hadn’t even been sure that he was allowed to ask for but had been all the sweeter because of it.
He was pretty sure that Marco hadn’t done that with anyone else.
And that was when it occurred to him that he loved Marco. It was both that warm, comforting love of a close friend, and that fierce, giddy love of a lover. He was in love.
It was terrible timing and probably inappropriate to be thinking about right now.
He needed to mourn his mother. To see his family and grieve together. But after that, he would do everything in his power to let Marco know what he meant to him.
For now, he would just soak up his calm presence and let himself, once again, lean on this beautiful person who continued to give him so much.
The drive down to his parents’ house was calm and sweet. Marco packed for him and dressed him and bundled him into the car.
He didn’t ask him to do anything, just be.
Marco talked when Greg wanted to talk and focused on the road when Greg wanted to stare out the window or nap with his seat reclined. When he woke up, he was covered with the ugly, but soft, orange blanket that Marco kept in the back of his car and there were lemon poppy seed muffins waiting for him.
It occurred to him that Marco was stepping in to take care of him in his grief, but that Marco might want to do this for him all the time. The idea was heady and kind of amazing.
When Greg saw his family, he absolutely collapsed into his sister’s arms. But then there was laughter with the tears. They all stayed up late, drinking the absolutely horrid butterscotch schnapps that his mother had loved.
Marco was always at his side, joining in the laughter, listening intently to each of the stories, holding him tightly in moments of sorrow.
Greg’s family accepted Marco like he’d always been there, including him in their stories. No one blinked when he volunteered to take the smaller nieces and nephews with him to the grocery store to pick up some extra things for dinner.
Greg was eternally grateful that Marco had joined him on that first spontaneous weekend so that he’d gotten to know his mother while he had a chance. It meant a lot to him, too, that his mother had gotten to know the man who he hoped to, if he was lucky, spend the rest of his life with.
At the funeral Marco held his hand tightly and pressed a soft kiss to his temple. But at the reception he was everywhere, taking care of the small details so that Greg could focus on family and friends. He heard the rare strains of Marco’s voice as he instructed the caterers and accepted condolences from some of his mother’s hearing colleagues. His gift for supporting Greg seemed to be endless.
For two more days, Greg’s life was filled with family. He’d expected to feel mostly grief, but instead he felt connected. Even happy. His mother had a full life with plenty of love and a beautiful, adoring family. It felt good to remember her that way.
And in the quiet times between, in their hotel room, there was Marco. He let Marco wash him in the shower, feeling cherished and adored. Marco dressed him in soft pajamas before cuddling him close at night and clothed him in the morning, his hands running gently over his body as he fastened buttons and straightened collars.
It was nothing like when Richard had laid out clothes for him to wear so that his toy would be adorned to his liking. No, this was about being close. Being cared for. The clothing was just a prop for showing that care.
Greg found that he loved it. It was so liberating to give up all his decisions to Marco.
Even with all that support, the weekend was exhausting. As they turned onto the street where he lived, his mind was still whirling and looping, the sorrow and pain mixed with hope and comfort. Memories of the past and dreams for the future collided and spun. He felt overstuffed with emotions, like a balloon about to burst.
He waited for Marco to walk around and escort him out of the car, clinging to that last little bit of tender control as Marco opened his seatbelt.
He knew that Marco had to get home. He’d already taken off two days from wo
rk and his customers had expectations. It was just going to be hard going back to sleeping alone after five nights together. Not to mention giving up that floaty feeling of being dressed or that spark of warmth in his belly every time Marco brought him a plate of food.
He took the duffle bag that Marco handed him and trudged back into the house, weighed down by more than the luggage.
Marco led him to the couch. Tell me what you need.
Greg didn’t want to be greedy. He’d already had Marco to himself for most of a week. Nothing. I’m fine.
Marco glared at him. It had to be pretty obvious that he was lying. And essentially saying “I don’t need you” was probably not what a Daddy Dom wanted to hear. He was fucking this all up.
Disappointing Marco felt horrible. But would it really be alright to ask for what he wanted?
Stay? he finally begged.
Of course, sweetheart, like it had never been in question. Marco gathered him into his arms. Now, tell me what you need.
Greg shook his head, relief coursing through his body. Marco would take care of everything. I don’t know. I just want to… get away from everything.
Marco held him close, snuggling and petting him. He couldn’t get enough of it.
This is just an idea, but would you still like to try sounding?
His cock made a little jerk before he’d even fully made sense of the question. He’d completely forgotten what they had planned for the weekend. And if Marco still wanted to do it with him…
You want that?
I would love that. Whatever my boy needs.
Greg felt his cheeks warm. The idea of… that. And Marco had just called him his boy, which he was pretty sure he’d been holding back from doing before. Even though he was older by more than a decade, it felt good.
I would like that. Please.
Marco urged him to his feet. Go use the bathroom and take a quick shower. I’ll get everything set up.
Greg couldn’t help the eagerness in his steps as he headed to the bathroom. The stresses of his week were already starting to fade. He had orders and all he had to do was follow them.
Some part of his mind made notice, again, of how very different this was from starting a scene with Richard.
Everything with Marco was just… easy. Comfortable. Like a favorite sweater or a beloved book. He might not have appreciated a relationship like this when he was younger, but it was just right for him now.
Marco was right for him. Marco was perfect.
After the shower, he found Marco in the bedroom, laying all sorts of things out on a paper towel-covered tray. It reminded Greg a bit of a doctor’s office, which sent an extra little jolt through his body.
There was something just a bit naughty about the idea of a medical professional doing something so intimate to his body with that detached reserve, even if Marco didn’t add it to the scene.
Marco had dressed up a bit, though. He’d taken off his shirt to expose his gorgeous, lean muscles and changed to a tighter pair of jeans that Greg loved seeing him in. His lips glistened a wet pink and he’d framed his eyes with two dark lines that made him look dramatic and alluring.
He looked so young, much younger than his years, but still impossibly dominant. Greg felt his erection rising between his legs. Sometimes he couldn’t believe that he was the one who was so lucky to get all this rugged prettiness.
On the bed was an ugly, flowered sheet, the dingy, reverse side up. It made Greg smile. He sort of loved that Marco found cheap, mis-matched sheets at the thrift store to spread on the bed before a scene. It wasn’t as theatrical as what Richard would have done, but it was practical. Adorable, even.
Marco had rationalized that it let him spend more time taking care of his sub and less time cleaning up, and Greg was all for that. Ugly, flowered sheet it was.
He stood by the edge of the bed, hands clasped behind his back. He’d gotten the feeling over the past few months that Marco didn’t care how he stood and maybe even liked it when he was more relaxed.
Not to mention that he had to break the pose every time he wanted to communicate.
But for the moment, it helped him feel settled. Small. Submissive. He wanted to let Marco know that he was ready.
Marco turned to him with that same seductive smile that had started to win Greg over the first night they met. He stalked over, not touching Greg, but lifting his head for a kiss.
This, too, had become a dear habit. Greg was taller, which meant that it was his duty to bend his head so that Marco could kiss him. Marco nipped at his lips and tongued the corner of his mouth, not giving in to a full kiss while Greg’s pulse leapt in anticipation.
Lay down on the bed.
Greg fumbled into position. With Richard, he would have made a show of it. But his bones were older now, and it was easier to move as his body directed. He knew that Marco would be looking at him with hungry eyes regardless.
Marco ran both hands lazily down his body, paying the same attention to his knees and shoulders that he gave to his nipples and cock. It was a horrible tease, but calming, too. He liked that Marco enjoyed all of him. That he still took his time even after almost a year together.
His hand came to rest again on Greg’s cock, touching it with clinical reserve. He shook his head in false disappointment. You’re too hard. We’ll never be able to use the sounds on you this way.
Greg felt his pulse leap. He hadn’t realized that.
Marco flung his dick around carelessly, like it wasn’t even attached to him. Of course, that did nothing to help with his difficulty.
Marco pursed his lips. I could suck you off, I suppose.
Yes, Greg thought. Please.
But this would be more effective.
And then he put an ice pack on Greg’s dick. Holy fuck that was cold. Greg’s hands flew unbidden to his crotch while he tried to twist away. But Marco just followed him, pressing harder to keep the icy torture where he wanted it. There was a thin cloth wrapped around the ice pack, but it was still agony on his vulnerable parts.
Lay down, Marco commanded. His face held a small smile, like Greg’s tormented writhing was cute. The bastard. He had planned this.
His claims not to be a sadist were total bullshit.
And Greg kind of loved him for it.
Marco lifted the ice pack, made a great show of checking, and then pressed it back down. Somehow, it was even fucking colder this time.
Greg clawed at the bed as he tried to keep still, his chest heaving.
Finally, Marco took pity on him. When he fondled him with his warm hand, heat raced through him like flames. His senses were painfully confused.
They’d barely even started the scene, and Greg already felt like he was ready to explode. Except, of course, that he was completely soft now. Because getting hard was something that Marco got to control.
He felt deliciously owned. It was heaven.
Much better, Marco commented. Like he wasn’t worth anything more than his misbehaving dick. It was a little bit embarrassing and extremely hot.
Greg turned his head at a sound. Marco was opening something about the size of a condom wrapper, but with a papery cover. Ah, an alcohol prep pad. Which was apparently also going on his shriveled dick.
Have to get you cleaned up, Marco smirked.
Greg felt frustrated and helpless and cold and definitely in love.
Marco used another alcohol pad. And then put on nitrile gloves and used two more. Latex had never been one of his kinks, but the cool objectivity of the material was just doing something for him.
He quietly wondered if all of this cleaning was necessary. He hadn’t bothered reading up anything on sounding, since it was Marco’s job to worry about it. But whether it was Marco protecting his health or just messing with him, it was sexy.
Safe words? Marco asked, his hands outlined by the stark black of the gloves.
Red and yellow. Greg thought it was sweet that he still asked when they tried something new. Another w
ay that he was looking out for him.
If anything hurts at all, Marco emphasized, you need to tell me right away. This might feel a bit unusual, but if anything feels painful or pokey, then it’s wrong and it could cause you serious injury. Understand?
Understood. Alright, safety first. But that little thrill of danger was sexy, too, when he was absolutely certain that Marco would keep him safe.
It was just the idea of being penetrated. In a part of his body that was meant for penetration. It was warped and dirty and unbelievably arousing.
Close your eyes.
Greg complied, knowing that Marco would tap his shoulder if he wanted to say anything.
Immediately, his other senses swelled. He could hear Marco touching the things on the tray. More packets were opened, he thought. The sharp bite of rubbing alcohol hit his nose.
He hadn’t gotten a good look at the sounds before, and now he wished he had. He thought there were three of them, two metal and one some sort of clear material. Had they been curved? Were they really as long as he remembered? And which one would Marco pick?
The anticipation was killing him.
And then the plasticky, cold sensation of Marco’s gloved hand returned to his cock. Why was it so sexy that Marco was touching him in just that place?
Next came something cool, like metal, slick and just a bit rounded, teasing at his slit.
Oh, fuck. This was it. He drew in his breath in a great gasp, pulling in all his muscles in an unconscious act of self-protection.
Marco played with the sounds, though, deliberately swirling around his slit until he had to exhale. Right. Marco was in charge.
He took a shaky breath, then a calmer one. His imagination readily supplied the image of Marco smiling at him.
When the sounds started to go in, it took him a moment to realize it was happening. If it weren’t for the temperature difference, he might not have noticed. And then there was a pressure a bit further back than he would have expected.
It was weird. It was slippery and hard and inside of him. He almost felt like he had to pee, though it wasn’t quite as straightforward as that. He certainly didn’t hate it, but he wasn’t sure if he liked it or not.
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