Play Along

by Mathilde Watson

  Nate smirked and shook his head, chuckling at Mark's reaction. "Still the sentimental fool you always were, aren't you? Fine. You can have it your way for now." He shrugged and carefully tucked himself back into his pants, zipping back up. "But we both know you didn't come all this way just to congratulate me. You'll be on your hands and knees begging me for it before this week ends, and we both know it." Nate opened the door, pausing only long enough to wink over his shoulder before disappearing into the hallway.

  The door closed behind the arrogant prick and Mark sat abruptly on the edge of the dresser. He drew in a shaky breath, fighting off the sting of angry tears. He couldn't believe how close he'd come to having sex with that bastard. He shouldn't have come here. He should have thrown the damn envelope away unopened and left things the way they were. But no. He had to come back for more of the same abuse Nate had given him the last time. Nate was right about one thing: Mark never could refuse him anything. Whenever Nate called, guess who came running? Twenty-five years and a real, loving relationship later and Nate still had him on the edge.

  But Nate hadn't gotten what he wanted, had he? Mark swiped his hands across his eyes and stood up. This trip had already served a purpose. Seeing Nate again hurt, but it was like having a broken bone set. He had to endure the pain of everything being shoved into place so he could heal properly.

  Mark dug his cell phone out of his pocket, dialing a number he should have called long ago. The call was answered on the second ring, and the voice of Ricardo's brother, Manuel, sounded in Mark's ear.

  "Hola?"

  "Hola, hermano!" Mark clutched the phone and smiled. Manny's familiar voice, so like his brother's, soothed away the tension that had built inside Mark during his confrontation with Nate.

  "Mark? Is that you? It's been a long time, mijo, a really long time."

  Mark's smile faltered, remembering guiltily that the last time he'd seen his brother-in-law was at Ricardo's funeral.

  "I know. I'm sorry, Manny. How have you been? How's business?"

  Manny was an engineer with a crew of skilled laborers, freelance carpenters and construction workers who hired out their services to companies running behind on their deadlines. When business was slow, they took on odd jobs remodeling kitchens and bathrooms or building gazebos and benches for wealthy locals.

  "Slow. Not much happening in the city right now. We put up a new wrap-around porch last week, repaired a few roofs. Nothing exciting, though. What about you, the bar still hopping?"

  "Well, actually, yeah. Yeah, the bar hasn't slowed down a bit. Actually, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. I was wondering if maybe you and your guys might still be interested in expanding the place for me, like we were planning, before…"

  Before Ricardo died.

  Mark didn't finish the thought; he didn't have to. Ricardo had asked his brother to draw up plans for expanding the bar several months before his accident. They were going to knock out the far wall, raise the stage, and build a balcony for added floor space.

  "Hell, yes! Me and some of the guys, we were talking about that just the other day, wondering when you were ever going to call. Are you ready for this?"

  Mark laughed at the man's exuberance, his excitement returning after a long dormant stretch. "I think it's time. The place has been too small for a long time, and if I don't do something soon the overcrowding problem will force people to find somewhere else to go, if the outdated style doesn't run them off first."

  "Well, then let's do this thing! You still happy with the plans we made before, or do you want me to draw up something new?"

  Mark considered the question for a while, remembering Louie's suggestion that they add a second bar and Ricardo's dream of adding a game room in back. If he was going to do this, why not do it right? "Actually, Manny, I've got a few more ideas I'd like to run by you."

  "Great! I'll dig out the old plans and we can go over them, see what kind of changes you want to make. When do you want to get started?"

  Mark could hear the excitement in Manny's voice and he grinned, glad that he'd found an ally. Manny had been a part of the crew that fixed the place up when he'd first bought it. It felt right, having him on board again now.

  "I'm ready, Manny. Does next week work for you?"

  "That soon? You're serious?"

  "I've put this off long enough. I don't want to give myself a chance to back out. I… I need this. The sooner we get the plans together, the sooner we can get started. I fly back in Sunday morning. We could go over the plans Sunday night. What do you say?" Mark caught himself picking at the hotel wallpaper, nervously waiting for Manny's reply. He stopped himself and sat down heavily on the bed.

  "Fly back in? Demonios.Where are you? Is everything okay? What happened Mark?" Manny's reply caught Mark off guard. He'd forgotten how perceptive the man was. He could read Mark almost as well as Ricardo had.

  Mark smiled and released the tension in his shoulders. It felt good to talk to family again. "Everything's fine, I swear. I'm in Florida. Got an invite to Nate Marshall's anniversary party, and I thought I'd check it out. Get away for a bit, you know?" Mark realized he was plucking anxiously at the bedspread and he chuckled softly, shaking his head. "I should have done this a long time ago, Manny. The bar isn't big enough for the business it's doing, hasn't been in years. If I don't do something soon I'm going to run the place into the ground, and it's going to take me down with it. Help me?"

  Mark held his breath and waited to hear what Manny would say. A minute passed before he heard Manny's heavy sigh.

  "Okay, mijo. I'll see you Sunday."

  ****

  An hour later Mark hung up the phone, finishing his last call. He'd talked with Louie and explained the plan to his eager manager. As he'd expected, Louie had as many ideas as he did. The planning meeting with Manny was going to be a riot.

  In the meantime, however, he didn't plan to stay holed up in his hotel room. A part of him was still looking forward to the symbolic farewell Nate's ceremony represented for him, but he had other plans too. Before leaving home he'd gone online and looked up the local night life, searching for the bar he and Ricardo had gone to after Nate's wedding. It was still there, and more than anything Mark wanted to visit it again. There he could let his inhibitions go. He could be whoever he wanted to be.

  With that in mind, Mark turned to rummage in his open suitcase. He pulled out a black tee shirt, black jeans, and Ricardo's old leather vest. He unzipped his shaving kit, grabbed the new box of condoms he'd packed on a whim before leaving home, and shoved the whole bunch into the front pocket of his jeans. It was good to be optimistic, right?

  With his clothes laid out on the bed, ready to go, Mark grabbed the shaving kit and hurried into the bathroom. He removed his watch, setting it on the sink for safekeeping before turning on the shower. As he pulled the curtain shut, Mark saw the light reflected off the face of the watch and imagined it winking at him. He could almost hear Ricardo's voice declaring that it was "play time."

  He took it as a sign of Ricardo's approval, as permission to move on. At peace, and even happy for the first time in a year, Mark stepped under the steaming spray, washing away the dirt from his travels and the lingering filth he felt from Nate's touch.

  Chapter Five

  Chance spent the two days following their arrival moping around the hotel and trying to stay out of the way. The place was in a frenzy of activity in preparation for the big event, and Chance didn't want any part of it. The celebration his parents had planned for their Silver Anniversary was extravagant, the biggest production the hotel had ever seen, and even more lavish than the wedding had been.

  Chance found the whole thing ridiculous. His parents didn't even share a room anymore; they hadn't since he'd been a small child. He couldn't even remember the last time he saw them kiss or hold hands. They had a very successful business relationship, but their personal relationship seemed nonexistent. He couldn't understand the desire to make an elaborate show of rene
wing vows they'd been indifferent to for twenty years.

  Alex had grown cold and distant toward him since the night they arrived, ignoring all of Chance's sexual advances whenever he tried to initiate anything in the bedroom. Alex was pulling away, leaving Chance with the distinct impression that he would be losing his boyfriend this trip, rather than the last of his virginity.

  At least Alex was enjoying all the activity, offering his advice and assistance to Chance's parents at every opportunity while avoiding Chance whenever possible. Strangely, Alex appeared almost desperate to impress Nathan Marshall, and frequently got carried away in the excitement around him. Much to Chance's dismay, his father responded with condescending looks and remarks that Alex seemed not to notice. The older man was obviously getting a kick out of mocking the oblivious younger man and rubbing it in his son's face.

  A man can only take so much abuse, and Chance had reached his limit. Embarrassed for Alex and disgusted with his father, Chance needed to get away. He found his opportunity that evening when his mother complained about several errands she needed done to clear up some last-minute details. Chance volunteered to take care of them for her and headed into the city. The trip was long and tiring, but still a blessed relief from the stress of being around a cold and distant Alex.

  In the taxi on the way back, Chance removed the rubber band holding his unruly curls back out of his face and let out a sharp hiss of pain. He ran his fingers through the tangled mess as the cab pulled up to the curb in front of the hotel, trying to smooth it enough to be presentable. His father had once yelled at him for wearing his hair in a pony-tail, insisting it made him look like a lazy slob. Away from his parents, he regularly tied his hair back, but he never dared to defy his father to his face. As much as he hated and feared the old man, deep down Chance still craved his acceptance.

  Leaning into the cab to pay the driver, Chance caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror on the side of the car. It took an effort not to laugh out loud. The humidity of the Miami heat caused his hair to frizz around his head, making him look like the lead singer from some eighties bad-hair band. If he hoped to look presentable for the ceremony on Saturday he would have to do something about it. Perhaps it was time to let Alex have his way and slick it back with some of his awful gel.

  He smiled to himself as he crossed the lobby to the elevator, thinking about how excited Alex would be to finally get his hands on Chance's hair. Alex frequently bemoaned his lack of fashion sense and begged to give him a makeover. Well, now would be the perfect time to give in, wouldn't it? He could please his parents by looking good for once and give Alex a thrill in the process. Perhaps this was the way to win back his fickle affections.

  He congratulated himself on his perfect plan while walked down the hall to his suite and let himself in. Was Alex back yet? Rounding the corner and heading into the living room area, Chance froze, the blood draining from his face. Alex was back, all right.

  ****

  Nathan Marshall leaned back against the couch, thrusting his hips as he pushed his swollen dick even deeper down the eager throat of his son's lover. The silly slut had a talented tongue that almost made up for the disappointment he'd felt when Mark had sent him away an hour ago, choosing to play hard to get.

  For the past few days Nate had watched his son fall all over himself, trying to hold the attention of his foolish companion. It sickened Nate to watch his son risk his reputation and his future on half-baked illusions of love.

  He could see the appeal, of course. He understood it all too well. Alex was a beautiful creature, much like Mark had been, and twenty-five years ago he'd almost made the same mistake. If his own father hadn't stepped in and set him straight, he would have set up house with Mark and faded into obscurity.

  Instead, he'd chosen to follow his father's advice by marrying a wealthy woman. That decision had provided him with a comfortable income and allowed him the freedom to take advantage of whatever pleasures he chose, so long as he remained discreet. Chancellor could have that too. Nate needed to explain to his son what it meant to be a man, and he had to do it soon, before the poor boy became a simpering fool like the one kneeling in front of him humping his leg.

  Alex hummed with appreciation as he slid his mouth up Nate's length to tease the slit with his tongue. Nate threw his head back and closed his eyes, scooting his ass out to the edge of the couch. He could feel his orgasm starting to build, and he fisted his hands in the pretty boy's hair, holding his head still so he could grind his pelvis against his face. Nate felt Alex convulse against his leg, coming in his designer jeans while Nate's spunk flooded his throat. Out of breath, he fell back onto the couch and opened his eyes.

  His son stood in the doorway with his mouth hanging open and his eyes wide with shock. Good, he thought, releasing the death grip he had in the young twink's hair. He chuckled, realizing that he couldn't have timed this better if he'd tried. Now the boy could see for himself how pathetic and worthless cocksuckers like Alex were. Such a raw and honest display should end all of his notions of romance and relationships.

  Nate drew one corner of his mouth up in a sarcastic smile as he caressed the side of Alex's face. The stupid slut continued kissing his balls and nuzzling the softening organ in front of him, unaware that his boyfriend had returned and now stood in the doorway, watching.

  Nate caught his son's eyes and leaned back, ruffling Alex's disheveled hair. "After all those hours I spent listening to him talk and talk, I realized something," he said, tucking himself back into his pants as Alex sat back, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. "All the exercise his mouth gets must be what attracted you to him in the first place."

  Alex's eyes grew wide with understanding before he finally looked back over his shoulder. "Aw, fuck!" he exclaimed, scrambling to his feet and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Slowly he walked over to where Chancellor stood and reached out to touch his face. "Chance, I'm so sorry. It wasn't working out between us, you know? I…"

  "Get your fucking hands off me!" Chance slapped his hand away. "What the hell was I thinking, trusting you? You fucking asshole!"

  "Chance, please. Let me explain." Alex moved toward him again, and again Chance backed away. "Explain? Explain what? You just sucked off my fucking father! What the hell is there to explain?"

  "I'm not cut out for relationships, Chance. I just can't…" Alex began to sob, choking on his words while Chance glared at him from an arm's length away.

  Nate got up and righted his pants, tucking his shirt back in before approaching the pair. He saw no reason to prolong the pointless, emotional scene. When he reached them, he grabbed the whore by the shoulders, gripping them hard to ensure he had his attention. "You've said quite enough, don't you think? Why don't you go and change your pants while I have a word with my son."

  Alex turned to Chance, his eyes pleading for understanding, but Chance refused to look back. Finally, Alex nodded and stumbled off toward the bedroom. Nate turned his attention back to his conflicted son, trying to choose his words carefully. He needed to make sure Chance understood the difference between himself and the effeminate bitch in the other room.

  "Son, I should have had this talk with you years ago. I could have saved you the confusion and both of us the embarrassment of this visit, but better late than never, right?"

  Chancellor whipped his head around and glared up at him, rage clearly written on his face. "What the hell are you talking about?"

  "That little whore in there—he's nothing, you hear me? He's just a lazy-ass fool with no brains and no ambitions. Instead of trying to make something of himself, he's using his looks and his body to get what he wants, just like a fucking woman. Men like you and me, we're different. Smarter. Alex isn't your boyfriend or you partner or your lover or any of that shit. Love isn't real—it's a trap to trick us into taking care of people who are too weak, too stupid or too lazy to take care of themselves."

  Chancellor shook his head, and for the first time he c
ould remember the boy looked him in the eye before responding. "That's bullshit!"

  Nate reached out and grabbed his son's shoulders, shaking him roughly. "Any man who would go down on his knees or spread his legs for another man is worthless, plain and simple. They realize that it's a lot easier to put out than it is to put in the effort to make something of themselves. Now, if you want to fuck them, fine! God knows they aren't good for anything else, but they are not your equals."

  Nate punctuated the last sentence by slamming the obstinate boy against the wall, hoping that some of what he said would seep into his hard head. Chance didn't saying anything. He didn't even blink. "Forget about love and this crazy gay rubbish. Sex is your right as a man and you don't have to trade your life for it. You can get it from anyone anytime you want it, and they'll thank you for the privilege! Trust me, I know. Just don't let anyone fuck you, understand? You can dish it out all you want, but you don't take any shit from anyone."

  Finally Chancellor showed signs of life. He set his mouth in a grim line and crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back against the wall behind him. "Are you finished?"

  Nate nodded, impressed by the unexpected show of strength. He'd said all he had to say, and now he had to trust his son to take his advice to heart. Alex had cleaned himself up, and was now hovering in the door to the bedroom. Nate leaned close to his son so he could whisper in his ear. "You look like you could use a drink. Go ahead, I'll get the drooling twink out of your way for the night."

  Satisfied, Nate nodded to himself and stepped back, slapping Chancellor twice on the shoulder before turning back around to face Alex. "Come on, Alex. Let's give Chancellor some time to himself."

  Alex obeyed, glancing regretfully at Chance as he followed Nate out the door.

  "Go out son, have a few drinks, you'll feel much better. And think about what I've said."

  "Oh, I will," Chancellor said, his face grim. "I will."

  ****