20. Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty
Marc
I stepped into the bathroom, gripping the camera, more nervous than I thought I would be when I’d hatched this idea. The cool tiles beneath my feet sent a shiver up my spine. As I positioned the tripod, my hands hesitated, haunted by the memories of past shows. Each of those performances had made me question if I was more a commodity than a man deserving of love.
But tonight was different. Tonight, I wasn’t Magic Marco; I was Marc Mendez, performing for the man who saw beyond the mask. I thought of Ken and the way he made me feel seen, not just watched.
Ken changed everything.
I closed my eyes, remembering the warmth in his gaze, the tenderness of his touch. Yet—the flicker of desire in his eyes showed he still yearned for the fantasy, too.
Who was I to deny him?
Taking a deep breath, I turned the camera on, the red light blinking to life. Nothing was being recorded, but it still felt real, my body on display—but this time, for a special audience of one.
My biggest fan.
Magic Marco had brought us together, and for that, I’d be forever grateful.
Soft music from my phone filled the air, and I began to move, my hips swaying in time with the rhythm. Slowly, deliberately, I peeled off my shirt, revealing the planes of my chest and abs. The fabric hit the floor with a whisper, joining the growing pile at my feet, until I was completely naked.
Steam curled around me as hot water cascaded down. I stepped under the spray, tilting my head back and letting it soak my hair, run down my face, my neck, my chest. Droplets clung to my eyelashes as I gazed into the camera, imagining Ken’s eyes on the other side, his intense gaze making my heart stutter.
My hands moved over my skin, following well-worn paths now electrified, every nerve ending alive. Each caress, each stroke tingled with sweet anticipation, knowing he was watching me. I turned, offering the camera a view of my back and ass as I reached for the soap.
The lather built between my palms, its scent mingling with the steamy air. I took my time spreading it across my skin, each movement a dance, a tease, a promise to Ken. I ran my fingers through my wet hair, slicking it back as I faced the camera once more. The heat of the water, the intensity of my movements, the thought of Ken watching—it all just ramped up my hunger and need for the man on the other side of the camera.
I braced one hand against the shower wall, letting the other trail down my stomach, lower and lower. My eyes never left the camera as I took myself in hand, a low moan escaping my lips. The sound was nearly drowned out by the rush of water, but I knew the mic would pick it up.
As I stroked myself, I thought of Ken. Not just his body, but his laugh, his kindness, the way he looked at me like I was something precious. It wasn’t just lust driving my movements now, but love—deep, all-consuming love.
The pressure inside me wound tighter and tighter, a spring ready to snap. I leaned back on the cool tile, my right hand tugging roughly on my cock as my left hand pinched my nipples. My movements grew erratic, a desperate urgency overtaking me.
I closed my eyes and moaned louder now—the edge was near, so achingly near…
The bathroom door flung open, and Ken stumbled in, his shirt askew and hanging off one shoulder. His wild eyes locked onto mine, and for a moment, the world paused in a suspended instant of mutual longing, desire and hunger swirling in his eyes, mirroring my own.
He kicked off his shoes, nearly tripping as he hopped on one foot to yank off his socks. I grinned as he leaped into the shower, pants still clinging to his hips.
Then Ken’s lips were on mine, hot and insistent. We groaned into each other’s mouths as I tugged at his drenched shirt. Ken raised his arms, letting me peel the soaked fabric off his body. It landed on the shower floor with a wet slap.
“These have got to go,” I murmured, hooking my fingers into the waistband of his pants. The denim clung stubbornly to his skin, and we both laughed at that, wrestling with the clingy material until it finally gave way and we stood bare before each other, skin glistening under the spray, water droplets sliding down our bodies.
Ken’s hands cupped my face, thumbs tracing my cheekbones with a tenderness that made my heart swell. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the rush of water.
I shook my head, kissing his temple. “You,” I murmured. “Look at how perfect you are.” I turned his head so that he saw the camera set up, reflecting our tangled bodies, his pale smooth skin contrasted with my darker, hairier muscles. “I love your body, Ken.”
Then I kneeled in front of him, my knees meeting the cold tile, and trailed kisses down Ken’s torso to his hard cock. My hands roamed, exploring the curve of his ass, the taut muscles of his thighs. Parting his legs enough to give me room, I leaned in, my tongue darting out to trace the head of his cock. Ken shuddered, his hands gripping the shower wall for support.
I took him in my mouth, my hands bracing his hips, and sucked gently, my eyes never leaving his. He threw his head back with a soft moan, water cascading over his face, mingling with the pleasure I was giving him.
Ken’s fingers threaded through my hair, his touch gentle, guiding without forcing. My tongue swirled around the sensitive head, then pressing against the thick vein under his shaft before swallowing him deeper, taking him down my throat. Ken’s hips bucked, his breath coming in ragged gasps. I saw his desire building, his body trembling right on the edge of that cliff as he watched us on that screen.
I wanted to taste him, all of him, but I wanted to give him more.
I wanted to show him what he did to me.
With a final languid lick, I released him from my mouth and pressed a soft kiss to his hip. “Turn around,” I murmured, guiding him to face the shower tile, his backside to me. “Tell me what you see.”
Ken turned and braced his hands on the wall, offering himself to me with a low groan as he faced the camera. “You… your mouth on me—ahh,” he whimpered, clawing at the tile as I spread his ass cheeks and pressed my mouth to him, my tongue darting out to trace the sensitive rim of his ass. “Yes, God, please…”
He was taut beneath me, his muscles tensing with each swipe of my tongue. His breath came in quick gasps, his head falling forward. I reached around, stroking him, my movements in sync with the rhythm of my mouth.
“Marc,” he breathed, his voice broken, desire in the air. “I can’t…”
Turning my head slightly, I caught sight of us on the camera screen, Ken’s legs spread wantonly, with me kneeling behind him, my face pressed into his pale ass.
It was pornographic, the picture we made, and it spurred me on. I wanted to drive him to the edge. I wanted to watch my sweet, gentle man fall apart, wanted to feel him shudder.
I wanted him to forget himself, to be consumed by his orgasm.
My tongue delved deeper, my strokes quickening, my thumbs caressing the sensitive skin just behind his balls.
“Fuck, Marc, I—” Ken’s body bucked against mine, his control snapping as he cried out again and again. His spunk coated my hand, and I continued to stroke him through it, my lips and tongue relentless until he was spent, knees buckling.
I stood, my lips tingling, and held him against me, his back to my chest, his head resting on my shoulder. “Look at us,” I murmured, as he opened his eyes and stared at the camera with me.
We stood there, my arms wrapped around him, the shower still raining down, washing away the traces of our passion. Ken’s breath evened, his body relaxing into mine. I nuzzled into his hair, my eyes falling closed, content in the moment.
A minute later, after we cleaned off, I switched off the water. Ken, flushed from the heat, watched me with eyes still hazy with desire. I reached past him, my fingers brushing against his hip as I snagged a towel from the rack.
I dried myself quickly, then wrapped the towel around Ken’s shoulders, pulling him close, His arms slipped around my waist, his cheek resting against my chest.
But my cock, hard and aching, reminded me we weren’t done yet. “C’mon, Kenny,” I said, holding out my hand to him.
Ken didn’t need to be told twice.
He took my hand and followed as we made our way to my bed, his gaze intense, even after that orgasm that shot through him, like he was memorizing every inch of my body, and a lick of heat ran through me that had nothing to do with the cooling water dripping from my hair.
I would never tire of the way Ken looked at me. I tossed the towel down on the bed. “Lay down,” I said, my voice shaking with need.
He complied without hesitation, stretching out on his stomach, his body a canvas of smooth skin and subtle curves. I drank in the sight of him, his auburn hair damp and tousled, a faint sheen of moisture still clinging to his skin.
I reached into the nightstand, fingers closing around the familiar shapes of a condom and lube. Ken shifted on the bed, his hazel-green eyes tracking my every move, reflecting hunger and need, even after all we’d already done.
“Still want more?” I asked as I climbed onto the bed, straddling him, my knees on either side of his hips. With slow, deliberate movements, I trailed my fingertips down his spine, delighting in the way he trembled at my touch.
He nodded shakily, closing his eyes as I pressed gentle kisses along his shoulders and neck, my breath hot against his skin. “I love you,” I whispered between kisses, the words resonating deep within me.
Ken turned his face to look back at me. “Love you so much.”
My hands continued their exploration, sliding lower until I reached the curves of his ass. With my thumbs, I traced delicate circles, massaging, caressing, until Ken was squirming beneath me, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts.
Reaching for the lube, I poured a generous amount onto my fingers, letting it drip down onto Ken’s entrance. Slowly, I teased him open, circling and prodding until his body relaxed, softening against mine.
Tearing open the condom wrapper, I unrolled it onto my cock, my breath catching at the sensation. Then, with one hand bracing myself on the bed, I guided myself to his wrinkled hole and eased into him, inch by inch. The tight heat nearly undid me right then and there, and I stilled, giving him time to adjust, my hands stroking his back, his sides, anywhere I could reach.
Then we moved, shifting against each other like water, the connection between us was more than physical; it was a meeting of souls. Every thrust, every moan, every gasp drew us closer, until the line between where I ended, and he began blurred into non-existence.
Ken’s breath hitched as I pushed deeper and deeper, my body covering his. My hand slid down, gripping his hip tighter, fingers splayed across his soft skin as I stilled myself, fully seated inside Ken, and didn’t move. He gasped, his head tilting back, baring his graceful throat, eyes closed in the sweetest surrender as he writhed underneath me.
Every muscle in my body tightened as I held back the urge to thrust wildly, needing to savor this connection, to burn it into my memory. Ken’s body was a wonderland beneath mine. His skin was a canvas, and I wanted to map every inch with my lips, my tongue, my hands.
“Hold tight, baby,” I whispered as I braced myself, hovering over his body, and snapped my hips. He grunted low, his breath punched out in short, sharp pants, matching the rhythm of my thrusts, our bodies moving in unison.
I wrapped an arm around his chest, pulling him even tighter, my lips finding the sensitive spot below his ear. He moaned, hands clutching the sheets, legs spreading wider, inviting me in deeper. “Marc,” he breathed, his voice a plea, a prayer.
I answered with a low, primal grunt as I drove deep into him, my hips pumping fast and deep. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure through me, threatening to unravel the fragile control I’d maintained.
Ken’s body shuddered and trembled beneath me, unable to stay still. He groaned, spilling my names and curses words as I pounded into him, chasing my climax. Then the walls of his body clenched around me, milking me, and I exploded with a hoarse shout, the full weight of my body falling onto Ken.
For a moment, there was only the sound of our ragged breath and the pounding of my heart in my ears. My body shuddered with aftershocks, my arms trembling as they struggled to hold me up.
Slowly, I eased out of him, careful not to break our connection too quickly. Pulling off the condom, I dropped it on the side of the bed before rolling onto my back, tugging Ken with me, sprawled across my chest.
I drew him close, planting a gentle kiss on his temple. “M’here,” I murmured, my voice heavy with lingering desire. Ken nestled into my shoulder, his breaths slowly evening out as he relaxed. My fingers traced lazy patterns on his back, savoring his warmth against my skin.
For now, we were just two men in a bed, caught in the aftermath of passion, our pasts and futures temporarily forgotten.
In this moment, it’s just Ken and Marc. Nothing more, nothing less.