Chapter 12
TIM
Itake another bite of Froot Loops, thinking about how shitty life can be.
Wish he hadn’t brought up the business. Makes me think about the roads I’ve walked. The choices I’ve made because of those roads. I’m not proud of what I’ve done, and it’s not like there wasn’t a better way, but I made my choices.…Now I live with them every day.
“How can you fucking eat like that and have that body?” Mark asks, and I can tell he’s trying to lighten the mood.
“Just lucky, I guess,” I say before devouring another spoonful.
The way he looks me up and down takes my mind off all that other crap. Because I can see his interest, his desire—and I like it.
He’s not like Keith. He could walk away from this.
Most of the guys I’m used to couldn’t have gone on this long without getting clingy.
Those guys don’t understand what it means to just fuck around.
They think in terms of finding a man. Of having someone in their lives who they can depend on.
And they want to believe that somehow the bad boy and the good little schoolboy can work.
Part of some fantasy they’ve conjured up—something I guess they learned from watching too much TV.
Mark, on the other hand, gets where the line is.
Hell, the sex is incredible as fuck, and so is the talking, but he gets that what we have isn’t a relationship.
He understands what fuck buddies are. And if anything, I’m the one who’s having a good time hanging around with him.
More than I have with other guys in the past. It’s one of the reasons I don’t mind sticking around his place after we mess around.
I can joke with him. Talk to him about shit and not feel like he’s steadily wrapping his octopus tentacles around me.
He eyes my bowl and says, “You could share a little bit of that, you know?”
He reaches for it, but I pull it away.
“Get your own.”
His face twists into a smirk before I give in.
“You gonna open your mouth for the train?” I ask as I get a spoonful and move it toward him.
He presses his lips together.
“Oh, now you close your mouth? You certainly don’t do that when I shove my fat cock in your face.”
When I keep moving the spoon closer to him, he turns his head.
“Stop it!” he says. He chuckles as he turns back to me. His eyes, sparkling in the living room light, catch me off guard. They make me see just how beautiful he really is.
I’ve noticed it a few times since we started all this.
Despite how hurt Greg left him, he still has this little kid in him that’s playful and eager and excited.
I come to life around him. Like he’s drawing out the little kid in me.
“Come on,” I say. Now I’m being serious. “Show me that you can take what I give you.”
He turns back to me, stares into my eyes, and opens his mouth.
“You ready to swallow my load?”
He leaves his mouth hanging open, not answering my question, but clearly inviting me to feed him.
I guide the spoon in, and when I pull it out, he closes his mouth and chews.
“You nasty fuck,” I say. “You dirty, dirty boy.”
When he swallows, my dick hardens.
“Mmmm,” I growl. I lean forward and offer a kiss to reward him.
As he kisses back, I find that a sharp delight rushes through me. Puts a smile on my face as once again, being with Mark makes me forget about the rest of the world. About pain. About sadness. About how cruel life can be.
“What…about…the no kissing…outside of sex…rule,” he says between kisses.
I break our kiss to say, “Who says we’re not going to have sex again?”
His smile broadens.
“You’re kind of amazing,” I say.
I don’t know why I even fucking said it, but I’m not ashamed. It’s how I really feel.
“What?”
“Don’t know what a guy like you ever saw in a guy like Greg.”
“I guess he didn’t see much in me.”
“And evidently Morgan didn’t see much in him either.”
Word got around that Morgan broke up with Greg two weeks ago, and when Mark first heard the news, I could tell he liked that it didn’t work out between them. But Greg’s already on the prowl for a new guy. Seen him around campus testing out a few freshmen.
“Fuck what that ass thought,” I say.
“Hold up. Why the fuck are you telling me that I’m amazing?”
“Not like in a weird way. I meant…you can fucking find a guy who’ll treat you like you deserve to be treated.”
“And how do I deserve to be treated?”
“You deserve someone who’s ready to fill that hole up on a regular basis. Maybe a couple times a day.”
His grin expands even more. “Oh, is that what I deserve?” he asks.
“No, seriously. You deserve someone special.”
“I think I’m starting to see how you lead guys on.”
“I don’t ever say that kind of shit to other guys.”
“Then why say it to me?”
“Because you’re not like other guys.”
“Whatever.”
It’s clear he doesn’t believe me, and that pisses me off.
I see how he always is. How he turns away every time I compliment him. How he can’t look me in the eyes when I’m honest with him about how cool he really is.
“I wouldn’t fucking say it if I didn’t mean it. I know I thought you were some privileged asshole like some of those other Emory kids, but now that I’m getting to know you, I see that’s not true.”
“And what do you really know about me?” he asks.
“I know you like to make cinnamon toast for breakfast. That you don’t like pepperonis on pizza considering that’s about the only thing you avoid on those freezable pizzas. I know that horror movies freak you out because you turn your head even if there’s a fucking commercial on for one.”
“Oh my God, that’s not even fair. A lot of people do those things. It doesn’t make them deserve someone special. I’m sure the other guys you’ve fucked around with had their own things that made them special, too.”
It’s different, though. He doesn’t understand how hard it is to meet a guy like him.
“Maybe it’s just you’re so tired of bullshitting because of your mom—having to put on this show—that you just don’t. It never seems like you’re faking anything when we’re together.”
“Definitely not faking orgasms,” he teases.
“Stop joking. I’m being serious.” I don’t want his humor right now, which he tends to fall back on whenever I get too serious.
“With Keith and guys like that, I always felt like they were pretending. Trying to act like the perfect guy because they were trying to get me to be interested in them. You’re relaxed.
Chill. It’s nice. It’s hard finding people who aren’t trying to pretend to be something they’re not. ”
“Like you?” he asks, his gaze accusatory. “This bad boy who happens to love RuPaul’s Drag Race and Froot Loops.”
“I don’t pretend I’m better than I am.”
“No. You pretend you’re much worse than you are.”
I know the truth of it. I’m just guarded. Defensive. I don’t want to let anyone in. Let anyone hurt me.
“As soon as you stop being such a jerk, you can be a pretty cool guy,” he says.
Now he’s got me fucking smiling.
“Don’t get me wrong,” he adds. “You’re still a fucking prick.”
“I’m the prick who’s gonna fuck you in the ass again if you keep talking like that.”
“You need to work on your threats if you think that’s going to shut me up.”
“Oh, really?”
I set the bowl down on the coffee table.
I move closer to him, reach out, and tickle under his arms.
I can tell from things we’ve done in the past how ticklish he is, and it’s nice using it against him now.
“No, stop! Please stop!”
I lift him off the floor and throw him over my shoulder.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“Giving you what you asked for.”
I fuck him good, to the point of exhaustion. I know I should leave. Don’t want to give him the wrong idea like I kinda did when I kissed him on the cheek in the living room, but I kinda do want to give him the wrong idea.
And it’s not as much of the wrong idea as I keep making it out to be.
No, Mark’s not like the other guys at all. He’s cool. He’s someone I have a great time with. I wish I didn’t have so much goddamn life-stuff going on because I want to spend so much time with him.
But I know what the reality is.
Even knowing that, when we finish and shower up, I head back into the bedroom.
When I don’t throw my clothes on, and instead, crawl into the bed with him, I’m waiting for him to make a big fuss out of it. Call me out like he did on the kiss.
He doesn’t say anything, though, as I sneak up beside him.
“I’m gonna crash, if you don’t mind,” I say. “Just need to get a little sleep.”
It’s not ’cause I’m tired, and I know it, but because I want to be around him some more.
“That’s cool,” he says. “You wanna watch a movie? I can pull something up on Netflix.”
He picks his laptop up off the nightstand and pulls it into the bed with him.
“Here,” he pulls his pillow out from under him and hands it to me. “I’ll lay flat on the mattress, and you use that so you can see over me. I like falling asleep to it anyway.”
“Really?” I ask, thinking how cute that is.
“Yeah, I know, Greg always told me how weird that is.”
“It’s not that weird.”
He glances at me, and we share gazes for a few moments too long. I find this happening more and more frequently these days.
“What are we gonna watch?” I ask.
“Anything but horror,” he says quickly. “I can do sci-fi or fantasy, though. I’ve been watching this supernatural thriller series if you want to give it a try.”
I can tell he’s excited about it, so I tell him to put that on. He lays across the bed, me behind him.
There’s less than half a foot between us, and something in me urges me to close the gap. I want to sling my arm around him.
God, I’ve never felt that way about a guy.
I’m kind of mad that I’m starting to with Mark.
Who the fuck do I think I am lying in bed with a guy like him? Watching fucking movies? Kissing him on the cheek? So much for not giving him the wrong idea.
But I’m enjoying where this is heading.
I shouldn’t because I know there can’t be anything here. Not between a guy like me and a guy like him, but a guy can dream.
I fall asleep and wake up to bright white light.
I have my arm draped around Mark, my face nuzzled against his neck.
His laptop screen is black. Must’ve gone to sleep with us.
I don’t move. Don’t want him to wake up and find me in this position, especially considering how tightly I have my grip around him.
I close my eyes. If I pretend I’m asleep, then it can’t be weird.
And I can keep holding him like this.
I pull him even closer.
It’s not enough, though.
I kiss his neck softly, and I’m relieved when he doesn’t stir.
And I know I’m in fucking trouble, but I don’t fucking care anymore.