by J. P. Oliver
“My dad makes your mom look like Mother Theresa,” I said with a chuckle.
“Really?” His surprise turned to something like relief. “I figured you had one of those eighties sit-com families with the parents who always say the right thing.”
I laughed. “Dropping pearls of wisdom at the end of every episode? I’m afraid not. There’s a reason I don’t talk about my family, Mark.”
God, was I really telling him this? Maybe Dr. Roberts had loosened my tongue permanently with his magic smile and eyes like green pools of sympathy. Whatever the reason, telling Mark the secrets I’d kept locked away for so many years didn’t seem quite so scary.
“Were you…abused?” Mark asked hesitantly.
“No, no, nothing like that. I mean, they didn’t hit me if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Sometimes words can hurt worse than a fist,” he mused darkly, his eyes seemingly focused on some distant memory rather than the parking space he was pulling into.
We got out of the car and headed up to Mark’s apartment, each carrying a takeout bag of goodies. Mark had wrestled me for the cat treats, and I’d chuckled at his excitement and settled for carrying the leftover petit fours and cookies. None of the fruit had made it out of the restaurant alive.
“Bill,” Mark called as soon as we’d breached his apartment door. I was about to tell him that Bill didn’t answer to his name, but the cat trotted into the room and rubbed against Mark’s leg, purring loudly.
Fucking traitor, I thought with a smile.
Mark dropped right down onto the floor, reached into the bag, and pulled out a fish-shaped cookie varnished with a coat of white icing. Bill sniffed it for a moment before taking it from Mark’s hand and hurrying off down the hall to parts unknown. Though I hadn’t yet explored the rest of the apartment, Bill had apparently made himself at home.
“Let’s follow him,” Mark said, dragging himself up off the floor and tiptoeing after Bill.
We found the cat in the guest room that Mark had converted into a gym. He’d taken his treat into a corner and was exuberantly licking at the icing, oblivious to our presence.
“I think it’s safe to say he likes it,” I said.
Mark beamed and stepped closer, watching the cat with a fascination that I found inexplicably endearing. “We’re going to have to order more.”
I glanced around the room, which was almost as large as my entire apartment and filled with high-dollar gym equipment. There was a weight machine, a weight bench, a yoga station surrounded by well-maintained houseplants, and even a full-wall mirror with a barre stretched along its length.
“Where’s your tutu?” I asked, unable to resist teasing him.
He regarded me with a confused expression, his forehead bunching into the most adorable stack of creases. “My tutu?”
I gestured toward the barre. “I had no idea you were a closet ballerina.”
“Oh.” His forehead smoothed, and a smile spread across his face. “The trainer who designed this room insisted on the barre. I figured I could lean on it when I wore myself out on the weight bench.”
“So, you don’t dance?” I was serious now, curious to know if there was a side of Mark Johnson I had yet to see.
“No, I don’t.” He stepped closer until he was right up in my personal space. “But if I did, I certainly wouldn’t be wearing a tutu. I’d prefer the look of a sleek white pair of tights that accentuate my package.” He flicked his eyes downward, and my own gaze instinctively followed.
I could tell he was hard. With a dick that big, no tights were needed to accentuate what he had down there.
“Of course, you would,” I breathed.
It was getting harder to resist the thought of letting Mark use that thing on me, but I couldn’t give in. I’d told him he’d have to earn the privilege, and it would ruin everything if I backed down now. As much as I wanted to be weak, I knew what would happen if I gave in too easily, and I wasn’t ready for this to end.
I cleared my throat and took a step back, suddenly feeling much too vulnerable. A blowjob in the car was one thing, but things were moving along at warp speed now. He’d be wanting more soon, and every moment we spent together alone in his apartment was one moment closer to me giving in. One moment closer to things getting awkward between us.
Mark cocked his head and took a step toward me, closing the gap I’d made between us. “Something wrong?”
“N-no,” I stammered.
“You sure? Because just a little while ago, you were giving me the best head of my life, and now you’re backing away like I’m making you nervous.” He raised a hand and cupped my cheek. “Am I making you nervous?”
“A little,” I confessed. “I just— Well, I don’t want to tease you into thinking something more is going to happen.”
He dropped his hand from my face, and it was his turn to step back. He shoved his hands into his pockets. “So that’s it? A dry hump and a blowjob, and now we’re done?” His voice was quiet, his tone resigned, as if he’d just received a winning lottery ticket only to find out it was a fake.
“No!” I opened and close my mouth a couple of times, searching for the right words to fix what I’d just done. God, how could I explain without sounding like a manipulative jerk? Or worse, a fucking idiot. “I uh… want to do more. Just not that. Not yet.”
He gave a sad smile and raised his eyebrows a fraction. “If I remember correctly, we were just talking about ballet tights. I didn’t offer to fuck you.”
“I know,” I said, my face heating. Because he was right. He hadn’t done anything but stand close to me and make a dirty joke. He was flirting, obviously, but I was the one who had assumed. I was the one who had taken his innocent comment all the way to sex.
“I don’t get it.” He ran a hand through his hair and moved away from me, all the way across the room. It might as well have been miles rather than feet between us. He sat down on the weight bench, brought one ankle up to rest on the opposite knee, and sighed. “Please put me out of my misery, J. I need to understand what’s going on here and why you’re treating me like some sex-addicted lunatic who can’t stop trying to get in your pants. I’m just really confused, and your mixed signals aren’t helping.”
Well, that made me feel like complete and utter shit. And for good reason. I was definitely giving mixed signals, and I knew it, but I honestly couldn’t figure out how to allow things to progress naturally and not get my heart shredded to bits in the process. How fast was normal? How would I know when the time was right? How would I know when Mark had done that magical thing that would prove he deserved to be the recipient of the most valuable thing I owned?
And what was that thing exactly? My body? My heart?
In that moment, I realized what the real issue was and why I was so hesitant to move forward. It was because my body and heart were a package deal, and I was terrified of giving it to the wrong person. And even worse, being cast off afterward.
“Please, J.” Mark’s voice was so damn soft it took my breath away. “Tell me who hurt you.”
My head snapped up. “What do you mean?”
Mark pressed his lips together, and his dark eyes radiated more understanding than Dr. Roberts’s ever could. “I mean it’s obvious somebody did a number on you, and I need you to tell me about it. I promise I won’t judge. I just need to understand what’s in that head of yours so I don’t keep fucking up.”
I looked at the floor, unsure of how to proceed. Could I really do this? Could I bare my shame for Dr. Perfect, who had probably never known a moment’s heartache in his life?
“Come on.” He stood and held out his hand.
“What?” I asked, startled at the invitation.
“Get your ass over here. This is no place for a serious conversation. Let’s go to the living room.”
I took the few steps that put me in front of him and slipped my hand into his, my skin leaching warmth from his heated palm. It soothed me instantly in a way I h
adn’t expected. Somehow, when it came to my emotional turmoil, Mark Johnson was simultaneously the cause and the cure.
After sparing a glance for Bill, who was chomping happily on his now-mangled fish treat, Mark led me to the living room and pulled me down on the sofa beside him, leaving a mere breath of space between us. He shifted to face me, and his thigh brushed against mine, firm and warm. I was keenly aware of the feeling, and of the whisper of denim against denim.
I didn’t want to do this. After what I had to say, he would surely see me differently. His level of respect for me, which I already had doubts about, would plummet to nothing. He would pull away. He would pity me.
But the look on his face said he wasn’t going to let me off the hook. He wanted an explanation, and he would stare me into submission with those beautiful dark eyes.
I sighed, feeling my lip quiver. This was it. As soon as I opened my mouth, I’d be flayed open, and every ugly thing that I’d kept hidden inside would be on the outside, all red and exposed like raw meat and just as tender.
“Tanner Fox,” I said so quietly I doubted Mark had even heard.
“He’s the one who hurt you?”
I nodded. “He was the first, anyway. I got used to it after a while, but with him, it was harder.”
Mark shifted again, leaning against the back of the sofa, settling in. Waiting.
“He was in my chemistry class freshman year of college. He wasn’t very good at chemistry, but I was, and I helped him out. Partnered with him for labs and stuff. He had the cutest smile, and blond hair that curled around his ears.” I shook my head at the memory of how it had made me feel just looking at him. “He was my first real crush.”
Mark gave a small smile, silently urging me to go on.
“Tanner was gorgeous, and he had these broad shoulders that would brush up against me during labs. I started to get the feeling he was doing it on purpose. And the way he joked with me… I started to fantasize that we could be together. That he would be my first boyfriend, and that maybe we could get married someday.” I chuckled. “That sounds so fucking cheesy now that I’m saying it out loud.”
“You were young and in love,” Mark said. “I don’t think it’s cheesy at all.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say love,” I corrected quickly. “But I was definitely crushing hard on him. He was in a fraternity, and so far out of my league it was pathetic.”
“I doubt that very seriously,” Mark interrupted. “You have a blind spot where your own hotness is concerned. But carry on.”
I blushed. “Um, thanks. Anyway, Tanner invited me to a party at his frat house near the end of the semester. I couldn’t believe it. God, I acted like an idiot. I must have spent six hours getting ready, trying on every single outfit I owned two or three times each. I’m surprised I ever made it to the party at all.”
“But you did.”
“Yeah, I did.” I gave a wistful smile, still feeling the regret. If only I hadn’t gone, things wouldn’t have turned out the way they did. Maybe I could have gone on fantasizing about Tanner until the end of the semester, and then he would have just faded away.
“And?” Mark prompted.
“For the first half hour or so I just stood in a corner by myself nursing a cup of warm keg beer. It was so awkward standing there all alone and watching him laugh and cut up with his buddies. And flirting with girls. Jesus, the guy acted like such a player. It was humiliating, and I was just about to leave when he finally made his way over to me.”
“So, he finally noticed you were there?”
“No, he’d been watching me the whole time. He’d glance over every now and then before going back to talking to someone else. I thought he was going to ignore me all night, but then he was in front of me, and I forgot all of the embarrassment, all of the flirting. He asked me to come to his room for a minute. Said he wanted to ask me a question about our chemistry homework.”
Mark chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mirth. “Ahhh… The old homework routine. Fucking amateur.”
Against all odds, Mark had me smiling at that. “Yeah, I guess he wasn’t as smooth as I thought. But it got me to his room, where he locked the door behind us and proceeded to kiss my brains out. I was stunned. He pushed me down onto his bed and climbed on top of me. He was saying shit to me. Dirty talking like a porn star. It was like he was starving, and I was an all-you-can-eat buffet. I remember him saying, I wanna fuck you so bad. And, I always picture you sitting on my lap when we’re in lab. Want you to ride my dick.”
“Damn.” Mark’s eyes had gone darker. “I take back my amateur comment. Is it bad that I’m really turned on right now?”
“Well, he was clearly more experienced than I was, and I— Well, what would you have done?”
Mark laughed. “I would have ridden that dick.”
“Really?” I asked, realizing that his lighthearted responses had put me at ease, making it much easier to talk about my most painful memory. Hell, it didn’t even seem so bad now that I was saying it out loud.
“Fuck yes,” Mark said. “I would have done pretty much anything when I was a freshman if somebody had asked. I was hard up.”
“You?” I asked incredulously.
“Did you forget you’re talking to a closet case? It’s kind of hard to get dates with guys when nobody knows you’re queer. Even worse, I wasn’t sleeping with girls, either. Basically, I was just horny and desperate. We’ve all got Grindr on our phones these days, but back then… Well, let’s just say my right hand got a lot of action.”
“But you did have experiences in college, right?”
“Oh, no. You’re not changing the subject. I want to know what happened between you and Blondie. I know you didn’t ride it, but tell me you at least sat on his lap.”
I smirked. “You’re such a pig. But yes, I did sit on his lap. We made out like that for a while, kissing and feeling each other up. I nearly came in my pants, to tell the truth. But then he pushed me down to my knees on the floor between his legs and pulled his dick out of his pants. I didn’t know what the hell to do. Lucky for me, I didn’t have to do anything.”
“You didn’t suck it?”
I shrugged. “I think that’s what he had in mind because he leaned in like he was gonna shove it in my mouth. But then he just came all over my shirt.”
Mark barked out a laugh. “Oh, shit. You had that boy all kinds of worked up. But then, I’m not surprised. If that had been me, I probably would have jizzed my pants while you were sitting on my lap.”
“Oh, you think so?” I raised an eyebrow.
“Yep. But I’m assuming this incredibly hot story doesn’t have a happy ending?”
I sighed. “I’m afraid not. He rushed me out of his room, and I hurried back to my dorm room, all the while trying to hide the stain on my shirt. A few days later, I saw him with his friends in the campus coffee shop. They kept looking over and snickering at me, and I know I heard the words fag and queer being thrown around. Tanner was just going along with them like he hadn’t blown a load on my chest. It was so—” I shook my head, unable to come up with a strong enough word to describe how I’d felt that day. Mortified came close. Or devastated.
“And what happened after that?” Mark asked, all traces of humor gone.
“Nothing. He started doing his labs with some weird chick named Mallory who usually didn’t have a lab partner. He never spoke to me again unless I spoke first, and even then he was terse and distracted as if he couldn’t wait to get away from me. Every time I caught him looking at me, he’d look away real fast before I could make eye contact. I swear I felt like the most unwanted piece of shit on earth. I wanted to die.”
“Jesus.” Mark pulled me down until my head was resting on his chest. He gently stroked my hair. “You really fucked that boy up, didn’t you?”
“What do you mean?” I wound my fingers into the fabric of his shirt as if it could ground me. “He fucked me up. Not the other way around. He used me because he was drunk and
he knew I was gay and catching feels for him.”
Mark hummed low in his throat. “I don’t know, J. I’m sure it was very traumatic for you feeling rejected by the guy you were crushing on, but it doesn’t sound like it was a one-way street.”
I shot up off of his chest. “I didn’t do anything to him. He was the one laughing at me and pretending I didn’t exist. I would have done anything—” My words cut off before I embarrassed myself further by enumerating all of the degrading things I would have done for Tanner Fox.
Mark held his hands up in surrender. “Just hear me out before you get all worked up, okay? I have a story of my own to tell, and maybe it will put your experience into perspective. I know the things you just told me kind of opened my eyes.”
I sighed. “Turnabout is fair play, I guess. Let’s hear it.” And in truth, I was dying to hear Mark’s story, especially now that I’d shown him how weak and pathetic I was.
15
Mark
The things Jason had said rocked me more than I’d let on. I kept trying to lighten the mood with jokes and smiles, all the while telling myself I was doing it to make him feel better, but I knew the truth deep down. I was also trying to make myself feel better. His story sounded chillingly close to my own, only from the opposite perspective.
Jason was about to discover, as I already had, that I could literally have been Tanner Fox. And Jason could have been David Ellis.
I sighed as Dave’s face swam into my vision, as clearly as if I’d just seen him, only untouched by time and experience. In my mind’s eye, he was exactly as he’d been ten years ago. Gorgeous and proud and so damn much better than me. Just like Jason.
“What’s this big story you’ve got to tell?” Jason prompted, obviously sensing my distraction with my memories.
