19. Markus
CHAPTER 19
MARKUS
It takes me a moment to come down from the high of my orgasm. Jesus Christ, Adam is a fucking god. That sex was amazing. We’ve made a mess, with lube and cum all over his sheets, but he doesn’t seem to care and neither do I. Instead, we cuddle, and that feels amazing too. We touch in languid strokes of exploration, his fingers tracing the muscles of my arm as I move my palm over his chest, spreading my cum over him like a claiming. I’ve coated him in my scent, so he’s mine now. It’s official.
Except, is it? Is he mine? No. Of course not. I’m getting ahead of myself. This was just sex. It was just sex while my father is consumed by cancer a couple blocks away. I glance around the motel room with its dated orange and navy decor, musty drapes, and lumpy bed. Correction: it was just sex in a sleazy motel room while my father is consumed by cancer a couple blocks away.
Christ, what was I thinking? I don’t do “just sex.” Never have. I’m a relationship guy. But the moment I saw Adam, before we even shared a word, I pounced on him. Did I just use him, coming here to find Adam so I could lose myself with him for a while?
Outside, thunder booms, and the rain keeps pouring. Inside, the flimsy door and single-pane window rattle from the rumble, another reminder of everything I shut out for that brief moment when I was safe and warm and feeling no pain in Adam’s arms.
But I’m firmly back to reality now, and I’m starting to wonder something. “When did you pack a bag for our trip? And when did you pack condoms and lube?”
Adam blinks, like I’ve just yanked him back to reality too. He glances over at the table near the window, where his bag sits open, a pair of jeans hanging out. After a moment, he looks back at me. “I keep a go bag in my truck for…out-of-town trips.”
“Trips? Like, for fighting fires?”
“No. I, uh, tend to date outside of Krause.”
“Oh.” Suddenly, I remember his revelation a day ago: I’ve fucked plenty of men, just no relationships. So this is just another out-of-town date for him. “Right.”
Now my mind wanders with all the cruel calculations. How many rooms have there been just like this one? How many men just like me? I don’t do one-night stands. This isn’t who I am. And yet, here I am, another notch on his bedpost, another fuck in his bed.
Sitting up from our cuddle, I look around for my clothes. They’re sopping wet and strewn all over the floor, but on the table by the window is my packed bag beside a key to a second room. Extricating myself from his legs and the tangled sheets, I get up and go to my bag, digging for a new pair of briefs and pulling them on.
Adam sits up and frowns at me. When I grab a pair of jeans and tug them on, too, he’s quick to his feet, moving so he cuts me off before I leave. “Hey, are you okay?”
I can’t hold his gaze; those moody green eyes see too much. So I look down. Which is a mistake as I take in the sight of his cock, still in the condom he wore to fuck me, the condom he had in his go bag, already packed in his truck for just this sort of occasion—a spontaneous hookup in some faraway town.
Grinding my teeth and shaping my lips into a semblance of a smile, I look up. “I’m fine, never better.”
I move around him to pick up my wet clothes and stack them neatly beside my bag, but I can’t focus on anything, not with all these thoughts in my head, screaming at me to speak them aloud, questions I desperately need answered.
“Never better?”
Adam startles when I turn quickly to face him. “Why do you date outside of Krause?”
“I…uh…I don’t know…” Seeming frustrated, he turns away, and I’m left to stare at the muscles of his back and one very fine ass as he pulls the condom off and walks to the bathroom to toss it. When he comes back, he tugs his discarded boxer briefs on and leans against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest—the chest I smeared with my cum just a few moments ago. His posture is defensive, closed off from me now. “Things are just easier that way.”
“What’s easier about long-distance dating?”
“It’s not ‘dating,’ it’s?—”
“Fucking. Right. You said that.”
God, I’m so na?ve, indulging some fantasy of intimacy with Adam, when he’s never indicated that’s what he wants. And it’s my fault—I’m the one who kissed him. No, “kissed” is an understatement: I pretty much jumped him, without waiting for his consent, let alone a conversation about intentions and expectations.
I kissed him, and he fucked me, and it was incredible, absolutely fucking fantastic, but it wasn’t enough. And it’s a bit late to start talking about my long-term aspirations now.
Hiding my frustration in a sigh, I pack everything into my bag. “What do I owe you for the rooms?”
“You don’t?—”
Clenching my jaw so I don’t yell, I cut him off to ask again, “What do I owe you for the rooms?”
“Markus, you don’t?—”
“Look, you did me a huge favor by spending your day driving me here. I’m going to pay you for the gas and meals and the rooms, so what do I owe you?”
He huffs with exasperation— feeling’s mutual —and beseeches me, “Markus, let’s just get some rest. We can sort everything out in the morning.”
Yeah. That makes sense. With a curt nod, I reach for the second key on the table and aim for the door.
Adam tries to head me off. “No, I meant?—”
“I’ll see you in the morning,” I say as I swing the door open and leave.
Outside, the storm has moved on, and the rain has eased to a trickle from the eaves and leaves now. There’s a new chill in the air; fall finally fell over Texas.
With a bone-deep shiver, I go to the room next door. Sliding the key in the lock, I let myself inside. Only then do I hazard a glance over at Adam’s door. He’s watching me, looking gorgeous in nothing but his briefs, a deep frown on his lips. I nod my goodnight and then shut the door between us.