by T. A. Webb
Marcus lost himself in the feelings, the pure ecstasy of being filled, taken. The air was hot and full with the smell of sex and musk, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh and moans. The low buzz of potential release began in Marcus, that slight itch in his stomach and at the base of his spine. It moved fast, catching fire along his groin and into his balls, and he found himself fighting the blaze. The feeling was so good, but he wanted to live in this moment forever.
“Come for me, Marcus. Let go, I’ll catch you.”
And that was all it took. He closed his eyes, surrendered, and came. The heat, the wetness, he could feel it all the way up his chest, pooling between them. He felt, rather than heard, Benjamin yell and then the scalding wash of spend inside, and everything went black.
Chapter 4
“Come on, babe. It’s time to wake up now. Marcus.”
Ben reached up and worked the tie loose, pulling Marcus’s hands down and kissing his palms. He smiled as the big man slowly opened his eyes and looked up at him. Once he was sure Marcus was back in the land of the living, Ben worked himself under his arm and snuggled in. Marcus instinctively pulled him close and hummed in contentment.
“So.”
Raising one eyebrow lazily, Marcus glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. “So?”
Ben huffed and looked up at Marcus over his chest. “Well, now that I fucked your brains out, care to tell me what had you so tense?”
Looking around, Marcus finally turned a blank face to Ben. “I don’t see brains anywhere. Perhaps you were mistaken.” Ben made a quick move, and Marcus yelped at the bite, rubbing his nipple. “Damn, Ben. Give a man a break here.”
“One more snark like that about my fucking ability to fuck, and I’ll bite it off and wear it as a necklace. Clear?”
Marcus glared, then let a smile break over his face. “God, I love you.”
“That’s better,” Ben said, snuggling back into his place beside Marcus. “Now, spill. And don’t give me any shit here, Marcus. I will tie your ass back down and keep you here until you tell me what’s wrong.”
Ben could sense the hesitation, the sudden withdrawing in Marcus, and hated it. His man was so loving and open, and anything that hurt him was wrong. Ben would take any burden and pain on himself rather than let this man suffer one more second. Stretching, he reached over Marcus and turned off the bedside lamp.
Something about the darkness…although Ben still had his moments of terror from his attack brought on by total blackness, he knew it felt like a safe place for Marcus. And he was right, because he felt Marcus relax, then the words started. “Remember, I told you I wanted to find my brother, Frankie?” Ben nodded against Marcus’s shoulder and rubbed his chest lightly. “While you were out, I decided to man up and finally start the search.”
The darkness wasn’t as heavy, but Ben knew this would be hard for Marcus. Something had happened, and he needed to get it out so they could deal with it. Together. “I’m proud of you, love. That couldn’t have been easy. Now, why don’t you tell me about it? Anything you found out we can manage.” It struck him suddenly—“Marc, he’s…he’s still alive, isn’t he?”
Marcus’s arm slid tighter around him, as if to offer consolation. Ben had to smile in spite of his fears—it was so like Marcus to try to take care of him, even when he was in pain himself. “No, he’s not dead.” He sighed and rolled on his side, facing Ben in the dark. “You know, when we were little kids, Frankie followed me everywhere. I was his hero, and for a teenager, it was heady. Anything I did, he had to do too, and better. It was flattering as hell. Then things changed.”
Ben leaned in to him and touched lips with him tenderly. He laid a hand gently against Marcus’s cheek and waited. Marcus rubbed slightly against him and sighed. “When I went off to college, I’d been dating my old high school sweetheart. Things were good, I was happy. Or, happy enough. Vanessa was comfortable, and she stayed home and worked instead of going to Georgia with me, so we only saw each other once in a while. One night I went to a party with my roommate, and there was drinking and pot, and then I was back in my dorm room making out with Craig. And really, really liking it.”
Not sure what to say, afraid he’d break the mood, Ben had to giggle. “I think I saw this movie. Frat Cocksuckers #10, right?”
Marcus reached over and slapped the back of his head, laughing. “Shut up. I know I’m a cliché, but they’re that for a reason. Anyway, asshole, it scared the bejesus out of me. We didn’t do anything but kiss and grope each other a little, and wake up with a headache the next day and freaked out. We made a pact to never talk about it again. But I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I had to talk about it with somebody, so when I went home the next weekend, I told Vanessa. She was so understanding about it, and thought it was a little hot and we ended up…well, you know.”
“You do like your sex, as my poor ass can testify.”
Marcus put a hand over Ben’s mouth. “Jesus, sometimes I don’t know what to do with you, kiss you or push you out of the fucking bed.” He jerked his hand away and yelped when Ben bit his fingers.
Ben pushed him over on his back and crawled on top, splaying himself across Marcus’s chest. “Okay, big man, I’ll behave. Now, tell me. I promise, no more smart ass.”
“You can’t control it, so don’t even try.” Marcus put a hand behind Ben’s head and pulled him down and into a kiss. Ben opened his mouth, hoping to deepen it into something more, but Marcus kept it light, gentle, in control. Surrendering, he pressed against Marcus’s lips then snuggled against his neck.
“There was no way I could do anything more. I knew my family would never accept it. They expected me to marry Vanessa, have grandkids for them, and be a good little son. So, I caved. Vanessa and I talked, and I proposed to her. The parents were happy. It worked for a little while. I finished school, and then we got married. I asked Frankie to be my best man and the kid, I swear Benjamin, his feet never touched the ground. He was almost eighteen and such a handsome young man. Then it all went to hell.”
Ben just lay there, planting small kisses along Marcus’s collarbone and occasionally running his hand down his side, but not talking. This was painful enough, he knew. He wouldn’t make it worse.
He felt Marcus draw in a deep breath. “I joined the academy. My parents were against it, Vanessa was worried I’d get shot, but Frankie… Ben, he supported me. He was the only one, but he knew how much I wanted to…God, it sounds so silly, but I wanted to make a difference. And so did Frankie. That’s why he joined the Marines. Right after I went into the academy, he enlisted and ended up deployed with Desert Storm. And of course, I…”
Large hands reached down Ben’s back and settled on his ass. They held him in place, not in a sexual way, Ben knew, but in an unconscious cry for closeness. Marcus’s body was begging for touch and comfort and assurance. Ben slid his arms under Marcus and hugged him close.
“That’s when I met Chance and Wick and…well, we had another friend at the academy but he’s not important, not now. Anyway, we all ended up as buddies and—fuck, you’ve seen them. I was already…curious. I…I never cheated on Vanessa, but I knew what I wanted to do, and that I wanted it to be with a man. So I told my parents, and I told them why. And they went crazy. Said I couldn’t ever talk to Frankie again, since he was in Iraq, and I was never to contact them again. Vanessa understood, I mean, she knew I liked men at least a little, but it still hurt her when I told her I wanted to be with one. She offered to let me…do it…but I couldn’t cheat.”
Of course you couldn’t. You’d be alone the rest of your life before you’d do that to someone, you…you big fucker.
“I got a letter from him, wanting to know what was happening, that my parents had told him Vanessa and I were going to get a divorce and what the hell was I doing. And I was afraid, Benjamin. I was so afraid. I didn’t want my little brother to hate me.” Ben had to squeeze him extra tight here. He could feel the slight trembling against his chest. “So
I sent him one letter. I told him“—his voice broke—“that I wasn’t worth it and to forget about me.”
“Oh, Marcus.” Ben relaxed his grip from the tight hug and pulled himself up face-to-face, snaking one hand behind Marcus’s head and grabbing a handful of the hair he’d allowed to grow out. “Never. Never. You can’t believe that.”
The tears dripped down the corners of Marcus’s eyes, but Ben wouldn’t say anything about them. “He needed to focus on himself. Not worry about his brother. His fag brother with the failed marriage who was the shame of the family.”
Ben couldn’t let that pass. He tightened his grip on Marcus’s hair and slammed his mouth against his in a brutal kiss. Their teeth clashed as Ben forced Marcus to open to him. He could taste the bitter tang of blood, but didn’t let it stop him. Finally, he pulled away, gasping. Words failed him.
But he needn’t have worried. Marcus never ceased to surprise him. “It broke my heart. But, Ben…every heart needs breaking sometimes. It just means you’ve let it get too hard.”
God, I love this man.
“He’s living here in Atlanta, Ben.” Marcus’s voice was small, pained. So unlike him. “He married my ex-wife, had two kids, joined the DeKalb County PD. He’s been living his life—my life—within fifteen miles of me for ten years and I didn’t know it. Now he’s divorced, and, Ben? He and the kids live ten minutes from here now.”
Holy. Fuck.
Chapter 5
The house was nice. A simple brick three bedroom, two bath, fifties style structure. He was willing to bet it had been gutted and renovated and was homey as hell. A bike in the front yard, hedges nicely trimmed. In one of the neighborhoods that had already made it over the hump of gentrification. Funny, Marcus thought, that it was in what was considered a relatively “gay” area.
He and Benjamin sat in the Jeep across the street. Neither said a word, and Marcus knew it was killing his Benjamin to not ask him a million questions, not demand to know when he was going to get out and walk up to the front door and ring the doorbell. When he was going to grow a set of balls and say hello to his brother.
Before Benjamin exploded, Marcus reached over and laid a hand on this thigh. “I just need to see him first. I know you probably think I am six kinds of chickenshit, but—“
“Now, you stop it right now. Yeah, I want to see the Prater brother that’s closer in age to me, and see if maybe there’s a possibility of something there. You know, Marcus, you do tend to get yourself banged up quite a bit, and if Frankie shows any interest, well…”
Marcus knew he was being fucked with, but it still made him come out of his seat and over the console. He got in Benjamin’s face and growled, snarled, “Mine. Benjamin, nobody touches you again.” The heat of Benjamin’s body, and the hardness of his erection in his jeans—his hands landed right on it—made Marcus crazy. The thought of stripping him and taking him right then and there, marking him was so overwhelming Marcus had to steady his hands and stop. Instead, he latched on to Benjamin’s neck and bit down, sucking hard.
“Fucking hell, Marcus. What’s gotten into you, you fucking caveman? I’m not going anywhere.” Benjamin pushed him hard, back over the console and into his own seat. “Now, what the fuck’s going on with you?” Marcus felt suddenly shy, but couldn’t help the little swell of satisfaction at the bruise on Benjamin’s neck. The truth was, he was a little vulnerable ever since the shooting. He knew—knew to his bones—that Benjamin was his, that Chance and Wick, Zack and Archer would never leave him, that this was his family. But he’d lost one family, and he didn’t know if he could stand to lose another.
Something must have shown on his face, revealing his feelings, because Benjamin suddenly reached across the distance and grabbed his hand. “Hey, Marcus, look at me.” He reluctantly turned, his eyes down. But he could feel Benjamin’s gaze on him, and the silence soon made him surrender and look up. “I’m yours. Yours. Understand? I’m not leaving until you make me. And then, it’s gonna be a fight. We can see Frankie, or we can drive off right now and never talk about this again. But, baby, I’m yours.”
Not trusting himself to speak, Marcus squeezed Benjamin’s hand and raised it to his lips to drop a soft kiss on his knuckles before releasing it and turning in the seat to turn the ignition on. He reached across his body for the seat belt, and looked up. Standing in the driveway, right across from him, was a man. Tall, dark hair cut high and tight. Solid build, with muscles stretching his DeKalb PD T-shirt as he carried a little girl on his hip and held a boy’s hand. It was like looking into a mirror. And those blue eyes. Which at the moment were locked on his.
Through the white noise that threatened to blow the top of his head off, he heard Benjamin. “Holy fuck, Marcus. That’s not your little brother. That’s you!”
The chuckle that escaped his lips sounded normal, Marcus hoped. “Um, yeah. I might have forgotten to mention we kind of look alike.”
He didn’t expect the hard thump to the back of his head. “Alike? You could be fucking twins. And Marcus, babe? Your brother sees you. And it looks like he thinks he’s seeing a ghost. How do you want to play this? You know I have your back. Well, and your front, and you—“
“Okay, you can stop babbling now.” Marcus let go of the seatbelt and reached for the door latch. “When your mouth starts running like that, I know I better do something.”
“Hey, fuck you too.” Benjamin turned and he could feel the grin aimed at him. “I resent that.”
“You’ll live.” Marcus opened the door and started to get out. His gaze was still locked with Frankie’s, and he could see his brother answering questions from the kids he held. “I’m going to go say hello.” As he stood and closed the door, Marcus started to cross the street, and was surprised to feel Benjamin lace fingers with him. “What are you doing here? Go wait in the truck.”
Pressure on his fingers as Benjamin tightened his grip almost made Marcus drop to his knees. “Not one chance in hell of that, lover. Now, I’ll smile and keep my mouth shut, but your happy ass isn’t going anywhere without me. You are mine, remember? And fuck it all to hell, I’m yours.”
He stumbled, but looked sideways for one brief moment. He loved this man, so damned much. “Mine,” he agreed.
Then the pair of them were at the base of the driveway, ten yards or so from his brother. Marcus stopped and waited, not sure for what, but it felt like the right thing to do after all these years. No, he thought, that was a lie. The right thing to do would be to run up and grab Frankie and hug him until they had to be pried apart. But that wasn’t what Praters did.
“Daddy.” The little boy finally broke the silence. “That man looks like you. Who is he?”
Wasn’t that the million dollar question? Please, don’t deny me. Don’t tell that little boy you don’t know me.
Marcus watched as Frankie gave a little jolt, then crouched next to the boy and pointed. “Marcus, that’s your uncle, my brother. His name is Marcus too. Would you like to go say hello to him?”
His knees almost gave out, and it was only by leaning on Benjamin that he was able to stand. Benjamin pulled him forward a few steps, then released his hand and stepped up to Frankie. The kid—Marcus! He named him after me—dropped his dad’s hand and shyly walked the small distance to stand looking up at Marcus.
He dropped to one knee, not knowing what to do. Should he offer a handshake? Fist bump him? What the—oh, yes, that’s good, he thought, as two small arms were wound around his neck. His arms automatically went to wrap the kid—his nephew—in a hug. He closed his eyes, and breathed in the smell of little boy. Sweat, dirt, sunshine, and something that was…home.
After a moment, the boy pulled away and stood looking at him. “Hi, Uncle Marcus. That’s my name too. I didn’t know I had an uncle. And you are Daddy’s brother? I wish I had a brother, but I got a sister instead. She’s okay, but I really wanted a little brother.”
Marcus had to laugh at that. “I was the same way, kid. I wanted a littl
e brother, but look what I got. I got your dad. He’s not so little anymore, is he?” Nervously, he glanced up and prayed that the little spark of hope he felt at being allowed to see his nephew, at holding the boy named after him, would stay alive for just a little bit longer. Please.
What he saw…his brother had tears in his eyes. “No,” the familiar voice was raspy, “I think my big brother just didn’t eat his vegetables. I told you, Marcus, eat those beans and salad and you’ll grow big, like me.”
Marcus’s heart beat so fast and hard he thought he was going to pass out. The air crackled with emotion between the two brothers, but neither knew how to take that first step. And thank God, his Benjamin was there. “Yeah, Marcus. I can’t get this big clown to eat anything green. All he wants is barbeque brats and onion rings. Imagine what he would look like if he ate what I told him to. Well, that and stayed out of the way of bullets.”
Both Marcus’s eyes went wide. Uncle Marcus wanted to strangle the big-mouthed asshole. And little Marcus was full of questions about who Benjamin was and what did he mean about bullets and was he a cop like his daddy.
It was Frankie who took over, though. “Marcus, that’s enough, son. It’s time to go in and wash your hands and get ready for dinner.” He looked at his brother, and Marcus recognized the glint of hope there, matching his own. “Maybe your uncle and his friend would like to come in and have supper with us. What do you think, Amanda? Would you and your brother like that?” The little girl on his hip nodded, burying her head in Frankie’s neck.
Little Marcus did a little dance, looking for all the world like he needed to pee. “Yeah, Uncle Marcus. Please, please, please say you will.”
Marcus turned to Benjamin, who had a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. What could he say? “Yeah, kid, as long as I don’t have to eat beans.”
*
Later that night, Ben laid in bed reading while Marcus took a shower. He was dying to know what the brothers had talked about, but Marcus was tightlipped all the way home. Dinner with the kids was terrific. Ben had taken them to the den to give the two guys time to themselves. The gobsmacked look never completely left Frankie’s face, but after the two had a chance to spend some time together in the kitchen alone while Frankie put together some dinner, he looked…troubled but happy.
