Chapter 28
MARK
Iknow this is wrong.
I shouldn’t like being recorded as much as I do, but it’s always the hottest when it feels wrong. When he knows how to hit all the right places in me, leaving me as vulnerable as I could possibly feel, shaking in pleasure.
He glances up and down my body like he wants to see how every part of me reacts to him fucking me like this.
I whimper as he hits my prostate and that familiar surge of power races through me.
“You keep making that sound,” he says, “and I’m gonna blow my load up in you.”
“I want it.”
He kisses me again. Sloppy kisses. Passionate kisses.
My dick throbs. I want to come. I want to release, but I need to wait for him. I want to please him more than I want to please myself.
My back still pressed up against the wall, he tugs on my hair again, keeping his face next to mine, just breathing on me. He licks across my cheek, and pulls even harder on my hair.
He grunts, and his rhythm becomes frenetic.
“Fuck…fuck…fuck…” his cursing quiets as he makes a final thrust. I know it’s the release. His cock hits my prostate powerfully, and I experience the swelling intensity of my own climax.
I’m so close.
He snatches my cock and rubs until I spill out across my abs, crunched up in this position he’s kept me in.
Excitement sweeps through every nerve in my body.
I tremble in his hold.
He pulls out of me and helps me lower my feet to the floor.
As I descend from the high of our fucking, he kisses and embraces me, holding my body close so his torso rubs against mine, the come sticking to him.
I gaze at the camera—our fake audience. One of the things that makes all this so much fun.
I rest my head against his chest as we lie in my bed together. We’re in my old room that still looks nearly like it did before I left for school.
After we showered, he talked about leaving the mansion, but I wanted to enjoy spending some more time with him, and he didn’t deny me when I asked him to stay the night.
I stroke my fingers up and down his flesh, enjoying the sensation against my fingertips.
“I’m sorry if I scared you,” he whispers into my ear.
“It’s okay.”
I shift my head, gazing up, and he’s looking down at me, his eyes lit up with the lamplight from my nightstand.
He glances around my room.
“So why didn’t you take any of this shit with you? I mean, I don’t want to dis your place or anything, but…”
“I know. I’m working on getting shit, but I can’t afford anything right now.”
“Your mom wouldn’t let you have any of this?”
“She would more than let me have this. She would furnish the whole damn apartment if it was up to her. But it’s not. It’s up to me.”
“Why not let her?”
“Because I don’t want to live my life like that. Feeling like I always owe them something. I mean, they’re my parents, so obviously I always will. But I don’t want to feel like I rely on them.”
“And where were you learning this approach to life while all your buddies were learning how to live off their trust funds?”
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t just brush it off. I really want to know. You have this mentality about your parents. With the apartment and the stuff…obviously you know why you don’t take shit from them. At some point, you started saying, ‘No. I don’t want anything from you guys.’ ”
“I guess after everything with Becky. Everything, since we were little, was always focused on Mom’s career…
on getting her to the next level. When I was younger, it was just into congress.
And now, she’s the fucking governor. Even that’s not enough.
She wants to find a way into the White House.
Knowing her, she probably will. When Becky started getting treatment, she kept it quiet from the press.
Didn’t talk about it. Everything had to be done in secret.
And it was like she was fucking ashamed of what was happening to Becky.
And then when we lost her, she started using it as her fucking platform.
Wouldn’t talk about it one moment and then used it for votes.
I just…I didn’t want any part of the money she earned for using my sister like that. ”
Talking about it evokes fresh tears.
“Come here,” he says. I reposition myself so I’m lounging on my side against him and he kisses me.
There’s that relief again.
“You okay?”
“I’m fine. Yeah. I just can’t stand that she’s still doing it. And I don’t feel like a good person when she’s parading me around with her. I’m an accomplice.”
“Then why do you do it?”
“Because I remember a time where she was different. And I remember how much she did for Becky. How much she cried when she passed. I know there’s a good woman in there somewhere. I just haven’t seen her in a long time.”
As I look into his eyes, I see that I’ve stirred up something. I know it’s not about my family, but his.
“I’m sorry. I’m always complaining about Mom, but at least my parents stuck around.”
“No, it’s fine,” he says. “I just don’t ever talk about it because I didn’t ever get a chance to know my parents.
Mom wasn’t around when I was a kid. She’d run off with some other guy and decided that I obviously wasn’t a part of her future.
That’s what Dad always told me, at least. I guess that’s the nice way of putting it.
His version was more like, ‘Your mother never loved you, so she left both of us.’ ”
“Oh my God.”
“No, don’t feel sorry for me. He was an asshole.
I don’t know how Nanna could be such an amazing person and have given birth to such a shithead.
He was a construction worker, and I didn’t see him most of the time.
When I did, he was either stoned out of his mind or wasted.
Not the abusive kind that people always give shit.
More the negligent, doesn’t-give-a-fuck kind.
He started hitting harder stuff when I began high school.
Needless to say, I had to get good at mooching rides off other kids so that I could play football or do any sort of extracurricular activity. ”
“You played football?”
That’s hot as fuck.
He smiles. He clearly knows why that story interested me.
“Yeah. That’s why I’m so good at tackling your ass,” he says.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”
“That’s pretty much it. I don’t know why he felt like he had to get rid of me since he didn’t do shit.
I guess maybe it just weighed on his mind too much when I was around the house like that.
Whatever the reason, he dropped me off at Nanna’s, claiming some bullshit about having to go out of town for some sort of work conference.
Yeah right.” He scoffs. “I knew he was gone the moment he drove off, and I think Nanna did, too. But I fucking lucked out getting Nanna and not having to deal with my asshole parents.”
As he says it though, I can see his discomfort. Like he’s silently screaming, “But why didn’t you love me?”
Maybe that’s why he was always pushing against the idea of getting close to people. Maybe that’s why he preferred to just hook up with guys.
My thoughts pull me in another, equally compelling direction. “So considering your dad was a drug addict, I wouldn’t have expected you to go into this line of work to begin with.”
He smirks wryly. “Right? Oh, well, I guess it’s just the family business. How this shitty world works, I guess.”
“But it doesn’t make you feel weird, knowing that you’re enabling someone else to be that much of a deadbeat?”
“I figure they’re going to end up like that anyway.
In some ways, I wonder if I’m not doing this because it’s sort of revenge against my father.
Like I’m helping these people wreck their lives sooner rather than later, but really, I think the reason I kept it at dealing with college kids is because it’s mostly recreational.
It won’t always be, I know that. But at least I can justify it by saying that they’re not fucking up some kid’s life.
Just their own. Plus, you know how I hate you bratty rich kids anyway. I don’t care if I fuck you up a bit.”
He winks at me. I know he doesn’t mean that.
“I just like it when you fuck me up.”
“Up the ass,” he says, smiling once again. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to turn this into such a sad night.”
“It’s not sad. I like hearing about your life. I like knowing more about you.”
“I like knowing more about you, too, Mark.”
Tim grabs the back of my neck and rubs gently.
I enjoy the way he kneads my flesh.
“Maybe you should go into massage therapy,” I tease.
But it raises a question I’ve had since he told me he wanted to try a different life.
“Speaking of which, what are your plans if you’re not going to keep on dealing?”
“I was thinking about going back to bartending. I’m good at it, and the money wasn’t terrible. I have a few friends who work at places around town. They might be able to give this dealer a little in. This is the best job for networking, after all.”
“Well, I hope it’s better than waiting fucking tables, because that fucking sucks.”
He smirks.
“Well, I like it when things suck.”
I chuckle.
“I bet you do, you filthy bastard,” I say.
“But I’ve worked it out, and I can get on top of the bills as long as I pay them off little by little. Might spend the rest of my life in a hole, but it’s fine.”
“As long as it’s my hole.”
He chuckles.
“Your dirty little brain can just make everything nasty, can’t it?” he says.
“That’s how I prefer it.”
“I bet.”
He kisses me, and even though my bruise is still tender where I got punched, his kiss feels good. Soothes the pain.
“What are you going to do when you’re not sneaking around with the drug dealer?” he asks. “You’re gonna be with a guy making an honest living as a lowly bartender.”
“An honest living, providing people with their legal highs? Oh, my.”
“And then I have my boyfriend, who’ll be providing people with legal prescriptions when he’s a physician assistant.”
“True.”
“I don’t know how I’m going to do it, Mark, but I’ll make it work. I’m going to show you that I can do this.”
“You don’t have anything to prove to me. I believe you can do anything you want, Tim. And I’ll be here for you for whatever you might need. Especially if it involves blowjobs.”
I’m trying to make light of the situation, but I can tell by the way my covers shift my joke has turned into an invitation—one I need to honor. I kiss down his torso to his cock, eager to give him the satisfaction he deserves for what he gave me in the cellar.
I search through the library in the area where Keith typically comes to study. I’ve met him here a few times before we’ve headed out for coffee or dinner.
He didn’t respond to my text message about hanging out—probably since he was pissed after Greg told him about me and Tim.
But I figured I couldn’t just say, Sorry for stealing that guy you were totally into for so long.
So, I have to find him and clear the air in hopes it won’t ruin any chance we have of ever being friends again.
I see Keith sitting at a desk along the wall, earphones in as he keys away on his laptop.
I approach him and wave near him to grab his attention.
He starts to smile, but as he sees it’s me, frowns.
“You mind if we slip into a meeting room for a minute?” I ask.
He takes out his earphones. “What?”
“Mind if we chat?”
I can tell by his apprehensive expression that he doesn’t want to talk to me. He sighs and grabs his latte. “Sure, man.”
I guide him into one of the nearby meeting rooms. There’s a table with six plastic chairs placed around it. He grabs one and turns it around, spreading his legs as he sits in it. Like he’s waiting to hear what great story I have for why I was an asshole to him.
“I assume Greg told you about me and Tim.”
“Yup,” he says, sipping his latte. “So let me get this straight? You were fucking letting me cry about my issues and then running off to fuck him?” His forehead wrinkles as he glares at me.
“No! No! That’s not what happened. We didn’t start doing anything until you were getting better. We didn’t have a single conversation about him when I started messing around with him. And I didn’t think anything was going to come of it. It was this fun, crazy sex, and then it got out of hand.”
“And he liked you.”
I can see the hurt in his eyes.
That makes all the difference, and I know it. It would have been one thing if I’d just been another one of the guys who fell for Tim. It’s another when I’m the one he fell for.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
He takes a deep breath and then drinks more of his latte, as if it’s got alcohol in it.
“I mean, it’s not your fault you fell for the guy,” he says when he finishes. “Hell, obviously I of all people can understand that. And I’d be lying if I said I’m not a little fucking jealous right now.”
“I understand.”
“I don’t want to play around and say I’m cool, but I’m your friend still. Your…recovering friend.”
He glares at me again, but smirks at the same time, giving me some reassurance that this can be repaired.
“So tell me about how all this got going?” he asks.
I sit down and catch him up, letting him know about how everything unfolded and how much I didn’t think we would end up in this place.
By the end of it, he pats me on the back and says, “Thanks for doing this. It means a lot to me that you cared enough to come find me and talk about it. You could have just as easily been like, ‘Fuck, Keith,’ and been done with me.”
“I wouldn’t want to do that, Keith.”
He rises from the chair. “Come on. Let’s hug it out.”
I stand up and we hug.
He rubs my back, maintaining his grip for a few moments too long.
I chuckle.
“Just trying to make it as awkward as it should be,” he says.
And we laugh together.
He pulls away, the somber expression he was making before transformed into a grin.
It’s nice not feeling like I’m dragging secrets around with me.
It’s nice feeling free.