Chapter 32
Ethan
He stood in the kitchen, the faint clatter of dishes signaling dinner was almost ready and glanced at the clock—time to wake Mark. He slipped down the hall, boots silent on the wood floor, and pushed open the spare bedroom door, the creak soft in the dimness. Mark sprawled across the bed, a giant compared to Ethan’s compact frame, his own muscles tight and coiled, a contrast to Mark’s sprawling power.
He grinned, shutting the door quietly, and padded over, the cool sheets brushing his knees as he climbed onto the bed. Mark’s scent hit him, sharp and familiar, mingling with his own woodsy warmth as he straddled those thick thighs, his smaller hips settling over Mark’s massive ones. He tugged Mark’s waistband down, exposing him, and Mark stirred, eyes fluttering open, dark and hazy.
“Hey there,” he whispered, his voice low and teasing, pressing a hand to Mark’s broad chest—his palm barely spanned half of it. “Dinner’s almost ready, but I’m waking you up my way tonight.”
Mark’s sleepy grin spread, his deep voice rough. “Oh, I’m definitely awake now. What’s your plan here?”
He smirked, leaning in, his shorter frame hovering over Mark’s towering one, and let his lips graze Mark’s skin, trailing down his taut stomach. Mark’s body was strong, his long, thick legs stretched past Ethans, his wide shoulders a wall beneath him—but he took charge, his muscular arms flexing as he pinned Mark’s hips. “You’ll see,” he murmured, and closed his mouth over him, warm and firm, starting slow to unravel him.
Mark gasped, a low, “Ethan, holy—” escaping as his head tipped back, those massive hands gripping the sheets. He loved this, how his smaller, chiseled frame could ravage Mark’s giant one, his tongue teasing along Mark’s length, tight and precise where Mark was broad and yielding. His lips stretched to take him, Mark’s size, a challenge he met with skill, his compact power driving every move.
I’ve got him, all of him
Mark’s thighs tensed under his hands, thick cords of muscle trembling as he worked him deeper, his shorter arms braced against Mark’s wide hips for control. The contrast fueled his lean, muscular build dominating Mark’s towering strength, every flick of his tongue drawing shudders from that huge frame. Mark’s chest heaved, a wall of power under his touch, and he hummed, the vibration rippling through, pushing Mark closer.
He felt Mark’s need, raw and urgent, and quickened his pace, his lips and tongue relentless, meeting every pulse with care. Mark’s hands fisted tighter, his long fingers digging into the bed, and he groaned softly, voice muffled as he bit his lip, trying to stay quiet. The intensity built, Mark’s massive body arching under his smaller one, and he took him fully, his throat tightening as Mark unraveled.
Mark came with a stifled moan, a shudder rocking his giant frame, and he held him through it, his strong hands steady on Mark’s trembling thighs. The release hit hard, warm and powerful, and he pulled back slowly, grinning as Mark’s chest heaved, those broad shoulders slumping against the pillows. He wiped his mouth, savoring the dazed look in Mark’s eyes, and crawled up, his shorter legs straddling Mark’s narrow waist, their sizes a stark, thrilling contrast.
“Jesus, Ethan,” Mark rasped, his voice hoarse and awed, his huge hands settling on his hips. “That was incredible. You’re unbelievable.”
He laughed, soft and bright, pressing his compact chest to Mark’s wide one. “Felt like we were sneaky teenagers, didn’t it? Trying so hard to keep quiet with everyone out there?”
Mark’s chuckle rumbled deep, shaking them both, and he pulled him down, his long arms wrapping around his smaller frame. “Yeah, I haven’t felt that wild since I was a kid. You’re way too good at this, you know that, right?”
He grinned, their foreheads touching, his muscular shoulders nestled against Mark’s broader ones. “Guess we’re making up for lost time,” he said, his breath warm against Mark’s lips. “I love seeing you like this, all undone because of me.”
Mark’s hands roamed his back, and he murmured, “You’ve got no idea how much I needed that today. You’re amazing.”
Their laughter softened, and he nuzzled Mark’s jaw, tasting the faint salt of sweat, his body fitting perfectly against Mark. The day’s weight lifted in their shared joy, the intensity shifting into something powerful, a bond forged in trust and heat. They lay tangled, breathless and grinning, Mark’s legs stretching past his, the distant kitchen sounds a quiet hum beyond their haven.
He sat at the dining table In Mark’s house, the warm wood creaking under the weight of plates, the scent of roasted chicken and garlic wafting up, everyone is admiring the beautiful dining room. Evening light dimmed through the windows, casting a soft glow over his parents’ weary faces, his mom’s eyes red, his dad’s jaw tight. Linda moved with quiet grace, setting down a bowl of mashed potatoes, while Diana poured water, her energy a steady hum. Mark carved the chicken, his broad frame a pillar beside him, and he felt the weight of the fire’s ruin pressing down, heavy and raw.
I’m barely holding on.
Mark glanced around, his voice warm and steady. “I’m glad we’re all here together tonight. Let’s eat, take a moment to just be.” He passed the chicken, his smile gentle, and Linda nodded, her hands smoothing the tablecloth, a silent effort to make this normal.
His mom poked at her plate, her fork trembling, and his dad sighed, the clink of silverware too loud in the quiet. Diana broke it, her bright but soft tone. “You know, when things get tough, I’ve always found a story helps. Something to remind us how we push through. How we keep going no matter what. Anyone want to start?”
He looked up, surprised, and Mark chuckled, setting down his knife. “I’ll go first,” he said, leaning back, his frame filling the chair. “After Jessica passed, I didn’t know how to keep going. Grief was this wall I couldn’t climb. But I signed up for a really hard triathlon, something she’d always pushed me to try. Training was brutal—my legs burned, my lungs screamed—but crossing that finish line, I felt her with me. It didn’t fix everything, but it showed me I could endure, even when I thought I’d break.”
His mom’s eyes softened, a tear slipping free, and he felt his chest tighten, Mark’s words a lifeline. Diana nodded, her voice firm yet warm. “My turn, I suppose. When my divorce hit, I lost everything, my house, savings, confidence. I was thirty, starting over with nothing. I took a job as a receptionist at a law firm, clawing my way back up. The nights were long, crying into cheap wine, but I kept showing up. I built this career from scratch. It taught me I could remake myself, no matter how low I fell.”
Linda smiled, her hands folding on the table. “I’ve got one,” she said, her tone soft but steady. “My friend’s daughter, she struggled with addiction for years. Heroin nearly took her from us. I spent nights awake, praying she’d survive, driving her to rehab after every relapse. One day, she called, telling me she has been clean for six months, said, ‘Lynn, I’m okay now because you believed in me.’ She’s been clean and sober now for three years. Perseverance was holding on when I had nothing left but hope.”
His mom wiped her eyes, voice quivering. “I guess I can share too,” she said, frail but resolute. “Before I met Joseph, I was mugged on the street when I was walking to the convenience store late at night for a chocolate fix. I had gotten my first job at the firm and felt so independent at first, I had no family nearby though. I became afraid to leave the house. I’d drag myself to the office, cracking jokes with Linda to keep sane. But rushing home before dark because I was afraid to go outside. I beat back the fear though, the trauma, with Linda’s help, I became stronger, less fearful. It’s how I learned I could face anything, even when I felt so small.”
His dad cleared his throat, rough but proud. “Mine’s simpler,” he said, his weathered hands still. “I owned an auto shop that flooded back in ’98, lost most of my tools, and the shop nearly went under. I spent weeks shoveling sludge, rebuilding shelves, with customers pitching in with coffee and spare parts. I was able to keep it running, and I paid every bill. It taught me I could stand up again, even when the water’s waist deep. I sold that shop years later and I still remember the feeling of pride that I made it through and was successful.”
He swallowed, their stories sinking in, and all eyes turned to him. He shifted in his seat, his voice low but steady. “I’ve got something,” he said, glancing at Ranger by his feet. “We had a search and rescue K9 mission last year, there was a missing girl in the woods. The rain poured down so hard, mud sucked at my boots, we looked for twelve hours straight. I thought we’d lost her, but Ranger caught her scent, led me to her under a tree, she was weak and cold, and I carried her out, my arms were screaming, I didn’t stop till she was safe. It showed me I could push past breaking, for someone else.”
Silence fell, thick with tears and awe, and his mom reached for his dad’s hand, her sob soft but full. Mark’s eyes shone, meeting his across the table, and he squeezed his knee under it,
Ethan’s voice breaking. “You’re all incredible,” he said, his deep tone raw. “I’m so proud to be here with you, seeing this strength.”
Diana leaned forward, her smile fierce. “That’s what we do, right? When things knock us down, we find a way,” she said, her words a spark lighting the room.
His dad’s hand tightened on his mom’s, and she smiled through tears, fragile but real. He felt it shift, their despair cracking open, their stories weaving a thread of hope he could cling to. The meal went on, forks clinking softer now, and he met Mark’s gaze, tears shining in every eye, their resilience a tapestry of survival laid bare.
They sat bound by it, hands reaching across the table, Diana’s fierce grin, Linda’s steady warmth, his parents’ quiet strength, and Mark’s towering compassion beside him. A fierce, quiet hope pulsed through them all, a vow to rise from the ashes together, their stories a beacon lighting the dark, unbroken and beautiful.