by Cameron Dane
“Dance with me,” he whispered before he chickened out.
Marek jerked, looking like he came out of a trance. “What?” He glanced in each direction of the deserted stretch of beach. “I can't. I don't know how to dance.”
“I don't either. Not really. Just”—please don't turn me down—“try.” Colin lifted his arms in a waltz-type hold. He chewed on his cheek, waiting with his arms hanging in the air. “It's okay. Nobody can see us.”
Stepping in, Marek grabbed Colin's hand and slid his arm around his waist, tugging him close. Colin's free arm automatically came to rest across Marek's shoulders. His blood raced, tingling awareness of Marek all through his body.
“I wasn't concerned about someone seeing us.” A gruff edge thickened Marek's tone. “Just so you know.”
Colin pressed the side of his head against Marek's and started to sway to the barely audible song. “All right. I apologize.” He closed his eyes and brushed his fingers over the edges of Marek's newly shorn hair, sinking into the heady pull of the man's warmth, scent, his very being.
After a moment, Colin felt the tension leave Marek's body, and the man slipped into the rhythm of their modified dance. They naturally shifted their lower bodies so that Marek's leg slipped in between Colin's, and his hand drifted to the lowest, most sensitive part of Colin's back. His open palm rested right above the cleft of Colin's ass.
Oh God.
Once again, jitters got Colin's mouth working without communicating with his brain. “I like being able to see your face. All of it, I mean. You're very attractive.” Stricken, Colin pulled back and found Marek's gaze. “Not that I didn't think you were before. You were. Are. You know…attractive.”
Marek brought their clasped hands to Colin's mouth and pressed a pair of fingers to his lips. “I got it. Thank you.” He settled their linked fingers against his chest, and more of his heat seeped into Colin's bloodstream, pulling him into a hold that went well beyond Marek's arm around his waist.
They moved in a tightly woven, slow circle, their bodies touching from top to bottom.
Marek's mouth dipped near Colin's ear, and as he spoke, his lips brushed against the outer shell. “What I said earlier”—the low tone slipped right into Colin's blood—“about you looking nice in your suit, wasn't entirely true. I meant to say you looked incredibly sexy. I like you this way, though, sort of disheveled, even more.”
Colin's legs went a little shaky, and his throat released a funny little sound. “Ohh, man…” What have I unleashed? “You're very good at this flirty, seduction thing.”
“No. Trust me”—more of that rough quality scratched at Marek's voice—“I'm not.”
Marek's confession somehow undid Colin even more. He breathed in the outdoorsy, clean fragrance that clung to Marek and had no ability to fight the dizzying need coursing through his body. I like this man—this real man—so much. Diving into the oncoming swell, Colin nuzzled his head into the side of Marek's, searching for any kind of touch. Marek gasped as cheekbone slid against cheekbone, but Colin could not stop. His lips parted, searching for oxygen as he dragged his mouth down Marek's nearly smooth jaw. Prickles of new growth abraded his lips, the rough sensation speeding up his heartbeat.
Sharp puffs of breath panted humid heat against Colin's cheek, and the hand at his back curled into a tight ball. Sensing equal, nervous wanting, Colin pulled back just a sliver, searching for confirmation in Marek's eyes.
Marek's stare shone bright in the darkness, the blue in his irises almost a match for the night sky behind him glittering with stars. His breathing registered as shallow as Colin's did, and his mouth somehow already looked swollen from kisses. Marek held Colin's gaze, and Colin's cock grew hard in response, digging into Marek's thigh. Colin watched Marek's eyes turn even darker. With hunger.
Colin pushed his rigid length into Marek's leg and tempted rejection once again. “For you.” He knew he risked breaking the fragile bond growing between them, but unlike with any lover in his past, he did not censor himself with this man. “For two years, Marek, only for y—”
His pupils flaring, Marek groaned and swooped in, slashing his mouth across Colin's in an open, hot kiss. He released Colin's hand from his chest and tunneled his fingers into Colin's hair, tilting his head back and holding it prisoner as he deepened the kiss. Colin grabbed a fistful of Marek's shirt, moaning as he opened his mouth, eagerly accepting the sweep of Marek's tongue. The biting-sweet flavor of pineapple took over Colin's mouth, reminding him of the dessert he had watched Marek devour a short time ago. He kissed Marek with equal fervor, but fought mightily against his need to climb all over the man and somehow get inside his skin to learn more.
Marek let go of Colin's hair and ran his hands all up and down Colin's back, lighting his flesh on fire, making Colin feel like he didn't have a shirt on at all. Biting Colin's lips, Marek ordered roughly, “Down. Lay down.” He backed Colin up a dozen steps, hooked Colin's leg with his, and toppled them both into the sand. Marek's weight covered Colin, blanketing him in a solid wall of heat and muscle.
Colin reveled in the tangle and aggression, and he gasped as Marek's growing erection burrowed against the V of his legs. Marek took advantage and sank his tongue into Colin's mouth, eating him as voraciously as he had done that pineapple tart. Skating his hands up Colin's arms, Marek took Colin's face in a bruising hold, holding his jaw open for the near violent mating. Colin needed no assistance and licked Marek with equal excitement; he spread his legs and shoved his hips up to meet the thrust of Marek's cock. Thick ridges rubbed against one another with two layers of pants between them, and pent-up sexual frustration dragged a ragged noise out of Colin's throat. His prick already leaked precum, dampening his underwear and pants. The musk of arousal mixed with the sand, water, and salty air, clouding Colin's ability to think of anything beyond getting closer to this man.
Shoving his hands between their fused torsos, Colin tried to work open Marek's belt. His fingers fumbled and pinched in the slide of the buckle. He tore away from the kiss, frantic for more. “Help me.” Colin finally got the belt open and went for the closure on Marek's pants. “I need to feel your cock.”
Marek lifted up on one arm and knocked Colin's hand away from his zipper. “Fuck, I need it too. Do yours while I finish mine.”
Colin mastered his shaking hands and undid his belt and pants in record time. His hands stilling on the elastic waist of his underwear, Colin watched, fascinated, as Marek pushed down his zipper and spread the placket of his pants. Easing down just the front of his underwear, Marek released the thick length of his dick. Its moist tip smeared pre-ejaculate on the back of Colin's hand, spurring Colin into motion. He shifted his lower body, wiggled his pants and underwear down to his hips, and his penis reared hard toward his stomach. Reaching down, he adjusted himself, rubbed his balls, and gritted his teeth against the supersensitized state of his cum-filled sac.
“Shit, you have a fucking amazing cock. Just…” Marek groaned, the noise coming from deep inside his body. He moved Colin's hand away and pinned his arm to the sand as he lowered himself, brushing his penis against Colin's for the first time. “Jesus Christ…” Marek rubbed his length against Colin, and his face twisted, as if in pain. “Yeah…” He ground down on Colin and circled his cock again. “Just this.” Marek twined his fingers in Colin's and raised them over his head. Holding them down in the sand, he started to move.
Colin bit his cheek, struggling to breathe on the sandwiched, first full slide of Marek's length against his. The rest of their bodies remained clothed, and with the complete press of Marek's torso on his, Colin could not see the source of pleasure that wreaked havoc through every nerve in his body. He looked in Marek's eyes, felt the strain in his arms as the other man held him down, and gloried in the incessant, slick, hot rub of their straining pricks.
Marek lowered his forehead to Colin's, digging in with pressure that forced Colin deeper into the sand. The water lapped halfway up their legs, soaking them bo
th, but Colin could not care about anything but the relentless friction Marek delivered to their cocks and the fierce pleasure remapping the planes of his beautiful face. Colin clung to Marek's hands that held him prisoner and writhed against his groin, searching for a harder, rougher—any—additional contact. His ass throbbed for a filling, and his flesh screamed for complete skin-on-skin contact. At the same time, Colin had never been so painfully hard or hot to come with so little, and he swore he could lose it just on the intensity burning in Marek's eyes.
“Please…” Colin didn't know what he asked for or what he even wanted; he just felt near to tearing out of his own skin. He pushed up against Marek with all his might and clamped his thighs in a vise on Marek's hips, twisting in an effort to get somehow closer and find relief in the touch of his body. “Oh…shit.” The whipping rub of cocks squeezing between two hard stomachs became too much, and Colin's balls drew up, signaling the end. “Marek…” Unable to hold back, orgasm zipped up Colin's spine, corkscrewed in his belly, and finally ripped a shout of pleasure out of him as he spewed his seed between them.
Something dark flashed in Marek's gaze on the first heat of Colin's ejaculate spilling against his stomach. He closed his eyes, looking like he fought not to feel it. His mouth fell open anyway; he seized, and then shuddered. He flexed his hips, and a hot line of cum shot out of his slit, smearing with Colin's juices. In rapid succession, three more quick spits accompanied the first, and finally his cock had nothing else to give.
Marek's eyes remained closed, blocking Colin out as his body heaved in the aftermath. His shortened breath washed over Colin's face, and Colin sucked in air, searching for normalcy. Marek's hold on Colin's hands above his head did not let up one iota, and Colin's arms started to tingle and go numb.
He lifted his head and brushed his lips over Marek's, drawing another tremor out of the man. “Take me inside,” he whispered. He teased Marek's parted lips, licking just inside. “Finish what you started.” His tongue dipped inside the wet cavern of Marek's mouth with a gentle probe, mimicking what he wanted. “Fuck me.”
Marek captured Colin's tongue and sucked on it, sending renewed tingling straight to Colin's dick. He opened his eyes, and fire burned within. “I want to turn you over and spread you open and take you until you can't walk without feeling me there.” Marek finally let go of his hold on Colin but quickly shifted them to their sides and snaked his hand down Colin's back, not stopping until he delved two fingers into Colin's crease. “You have a tight little asshole.” Marek fingered Colin's pucker, tapping at the nerve-rich opening. “It definitely needs something to fill it.”
Colin pushed his ass back into Marek's teasing, practically purring at the slight contact. He reached down and wrapped his hand around Marek's thick, sticky penis, and stroked it from root to tip. “And you think you've got just the cock for the job, don't you?”
Marek jerked. He immediately let go of Colin, rolled away, and scrambled to his feet. “I'm sorry.” He stuffed himself back in his pants and fastened his zipper and belt. “I can't do this after all. I have to go.” He started to back away.
“Wait, Marek.” Colin jumped up, holding onto his pants so they didn't slide to his ankles. “What happened?”
“No. I just…” The moon shone on Marek's eyes, revealing a brightness that didn't have anything to do with a trick of light. “I have to go.”
His chest aching, Colin somehow stepped forward and put command in his voice. “Tell me.”
“It doesn't matter.”
“Tell me.”
“What you just said.” A catch hitched Marek's voice, and he stopped for a moment. He shifted and only gave Colin his stark profile. “Payton kidded with those same words. It's in my head now. He's in my head. I thought I was ready to do this, but I can't. I'm not.” He turned away fully, and the vulnerable line of his back cracked Colin's heart. “I'm sorry,” he said softly. “I have to go.”
Colin stood, impotent, at a loss what to say or do. “You're not even dressed. You don't have any shoes.”
“Keep them. I don't care.” After his first steps, Marek picked up speed. His voice barely carried on a sudden gust of wind as he said, “I have to go home.”
The cresting swells of the ocean grew bigger, as if the crackle of human emotions swirling in the air ruled the tides.
Colin watched Marek run away. His chest hurt, but his mind was a mash of ideas on how to proceed.
He only wished he knew which one to choose.
Chapter Ten
Marek paced all around his house, up and down the stairs, moving in and out of shafts of light from various sources blazing in the house. Wind whipped in through the open windows, floating the curtains near to the ceiling like specters in the night. Gentle spits of rain that foretold an upcoming storm dotted the windowsills and floor, but Marek welcomed the forces of nature too much to shut them out.
Christ. He had been so close to having Colin right on the beach, no thought to his choice or the myriad of consequences at all. Just a fulfillment of pure, unbridled need. It was more than his cock that ached to be inside a man again, though. For a couple of hours tonight, while socializing with Colin's friends, Marek had felt very nearly human and like he belonged back in the world with other people.
Colin was responsible for that.
I like him as much as I want him, and that is so, so dangerous for me to feel.
The man had a way about him that drew smiles to the faces of everyone around him. Even Marek, for a little while. Marek could see how much Colin's friends adored him, and he could feel their quiet scrutiny, not so much judging Marek for the sake of it, but rather watching him to decide if he was good enough for their dear friend. For a short time, because of Colin's ease and accessibility, Marek had forgotten he wasn't good enough for Colin Baxter.
His friends wouldn't want me anywhere near him if they knew the pain I brought him so long ago.
Damn it. Colin's personality, just feeling his spirit, had temporarily overshadowed Marek's lifetime of guilt, something he never thought would happen. He hadn't been entirely honest when Colin asked if he had ever had dreams about the guy in the past two years. Truth was, ever since Payton died, Marek had lived with nightmares of his murder. In those dreams, Marek would often twist Payton's death with Colin's assault, making the guilt of Marek's part in the beating hellish enough to jerk him out of sleep. Yet somehow, strangely, ever since Colin showed up in Fiji, the man's presence had soothed Marek just as much as he stoked Marek's fear of discovery.
Marek didn't care about himself, but goddamnit, being around Colin for just these few days, he didn't think he would survive seeing hatred, hurt, and disgust in Colin's eyes. Directed at him.
You probably already hurt him plenty tonight, rejecting him for the memory of Payton.
Marek growled, coming to a stop at the foot of the stairs. “Payton.” Dropping to sit near the bottom of the steps, Marek scrubbed his face and pushed his hands through his damp, freshly washed hair. “Why did you have to pop into my head right then, babe?” Marek burned with the desire to fuck Colin, no matter that he had only known him as an adult for a few days. Rubbing against Colin's cock on that beach, and feeling the tight star of the guy's asshole against the tip of his fingers… Marek's prick twitched against his boxer briefs as he relived those few moments in Colin's arms.
He wanted Colin, period. He was under no illusions that he could ever have Payton back. Marek didn't think of Colin as a substitute for Payton either. In that moment, though, frightened by his desperation, Marek had panicked, temporarily believing Payton came to him as some kind of warning against getting in any deeper with Colin.
Marek invited disaster upon himself by becoming tangled in a complicated web of omission with Colin, and maybe it was best to retreat to the private person he was and let Colin and his weird dreams fly away when his plane took him back home to Austin in five days.
He got to his feet, ready to try to get some sleep. Then his front door
opened. There stood Colin, duffel in hand, looking like a drowned puppy.
“What the hell?” Marek raced to Colin and pulled him inside, slamming the door behind him. “Are you fucking crazy? There's the beginnings of a goddamn hellacious storm starting to kick up out there, you fucking idiot.” His heart raced ridiculously as he envisioned Colin's small boat capsizing with one big wave. “You don't risk your safety in a speedboat.” He ripped Colin's bag out of his hand and threw it on the floor, then tore his lightweight jacket down his arms, leaving that wet mess in a puddle too. “I could fucking strangle you, you stupid jerk.” Anger shook Marek, but he rubbed Colin's arms from top to bottom, feeling the chill under his skin. “Jesus, man. Didn't you learn anything about the power of the ocean from Beatrice's loss?”
A big grin took over Colin's lips. “You were listening.”
Marek glared at Colin, not amused. “Of course I was listening.” He let go and spun away but came right back with a hard stare and a tight-lipped frown. “I find it damn hard to see anything but you when you're within twenty feet of me. I'm pretty damn sure you already know that.”
Colin stepped in even closer, invading Marek's airspace. He looked right in Marek's eyes, without blinking. “Except when you think of Payton, and then you run away.”
Clenching his jaw, Marek stiffened, working not to sway under the verbal blow. I can't talk about Payton with you. “That's neither here nor there right now.” He moved backward until his spine hit the base of the stair railing, and he covered his retreat with bravado and a loud voice. “I don't care if I fucking called out his name while I had my cock buried in your ass unloading a wad. You still don't drive out in that”—he pointed at the closed door, to the growing storm beyond—“in order to jaw about it.”
