Mark groaned against his arm, briefly rubbing teeth over the sweaty skin. Griff could almost smell his arousal. “That good?” He stirred his hips time and time again, making his dick slide out ever so slightly, only to push back in. The gentle motion was like a tickle deep inside Griffith’s body, but as it continued, it stopped being just a that and turned into a growing heat that made Griffith spread his thighs wider and arch his hips to get that bit more pressure on a spot that felt particularly sensitive. He groaned, nodding when Mark’s cock pushed on, causing a pressure somewhere deep inside.
Mark wrapped his arm around Griff’s waist, holding him tight, and every time he thrust back in, Griff’s ass met the skin of Mark’s hips. There was something primal in the way Mark held Griff. He was the lion who’d caught the antelope and wouldn’t stop feasting on it until he was sated.
This man wanted Griffith more than anyone else in the world.
When Mark bit down on Griff’s nape, it really did feel like being conquered. Taken. Consumed by the one person Griffith wanted to need him. They settled into a rhythm without having to discuss it, as if their bodies had waited all this time to join and play a symphony of gasps, slaps, and rustles.
His cock rubbed against the pillow, a silent tune that heightened its pitch as Mark grabbed Griffith’s flesh with more force, pulling him closer with one arm. Griffith gasped for breath, his muscles so completely relaxed in response to the stiff dick pushing inside over and over. The only thing that hurt were the muscles in Griffith’s thighs as he struggled to push back against Mark, but his insides were molten hot and so sensitive each stir of Mark’s cock sent uncontrollable shudders all over Griffith’s body.
“This... feels amazing,” Griffith uttered breathlessly, hot under the layer of sweat that lubricated the skin where their bodies continuously rubbed against one another.
“Oh, yeah? How about this?” Mark asked and shifted his hips. The next time he slammed his cock home, it touched something inside of Griff that made his eyes go wide and pleasure stream from his ass to his toes, and all the way back to his fuzzy brain. What so far had only been an echo was now screaming throughout his body louder and louder every time Mark thrust into him, eventually culminating in a bright call that made Griffith lose it.
Desire was a physical presence in his body, squeezing on Mark’s cock, desperate to keep him inside as Griffith shook in the throes of mind-blowing pleasure. Mark only spurred it on, not allowing Griff’s orgasm to pass too quickly. His thrusts became frantic, and his cock pistoned in and out of Griff’s ass before he stiffened for a second, biting down on Griff’s shoulder with a groan.
Had he come? Had he come inside of Griff? Was Griff now experiencing both his own orgasm, and Mark’s deep inside him?
He had no mental capacity to settle this just yet, sinking to the tangled, sweaty covers pushed down by Mark’s weight. His thoughts floated somewhere under the low ceiling, all of them the color of the Christmas lights illuminating Mark’s gorgeous form. But instead of saying something to express the mess of emotion buzzing in his chest, he just moaned.
“You don’t even know… how good it feels… to be with you,” Mark gasped between one deep breath and another, forehead pressed between Griff’s shoulder blades. His breath was so warm on Griffith’s damp skin it felt like the sun itself were caressing him.
Griff squeezed his eyes shut when passion spilled out of him in a series of shallow gasps. With the heat of Mark’s cock still inside him, Griffith blindly sought out his lover’s hand and pulled it to his lips, kissing it along the knuckles as his heart pumped liquid joy.
Mark raised himself after a while, and a deep grunt left his lips when the motion pulled his cock out of Griffith’s hole. Now that Griff knew how it felt to have it inside, he already missed it. But there was no disappointment to be had when Mark rolled to the bedding next to Griff and pulled him into a tight hug.
It was as if everything fell into place yet again, without a spare moment for doubt or insecurity. Griffith laughed, even though there was nothing funny happening, but the elation streaming through his veins seemed to make everything so much brighter. “Thank you.”
Mark took his time kissing Griff’s cheek, his lashes gently petting the heated skin, too. “The pleasure was all mine.”
He was the most beautiful person Griffith had ever laid his eyes on—so radiant in his satisfaction, with a smile that beckoned Griffith’s lips closer.
“I’m so happy that I met you.”
“I guess it was meant to be.” Mark entwined their legs to the point where Griff didn’t even know where he ended and Mark began.
Griffith’s throat constricted, and for a moment he wanted to say something important, something vulnerable. Never before had he shared this depth of intimacy. “Do I have my gay card now?”
Mark’s smile widened, and he gently petted Giff’s head. “You sure do. Just gotta sign it, and you’re a fully fledged gay guy.”
Griffith pressed a kiss to Mark’s temple. “What are my rights now?”
Mark pulled he duvet over them, so that they didn’t lose any of the precious warmth. “You have the right to daily blowjobs, kisses on demand, the right to come out whenever you’re ready, and the right to ogle other guys as long as you keep your hands to yourself.”
Griffith pounced Mark, rolling on top of him. A deep flush crept to his face when the movement sent a trickle of wetness down his balls, and he froze, not sure if he should move at all. “Condoms?” he asked so quietly he barely heard it himself.
Mark stroked Griff’s back. “Is that a problem? It was your first time, and I haven’t been with anyone since last year.”
Griffith swallowed and shook his head. Mark wouldn’t hurt him. He was responsible and caring, but that didn’t lessen Griffith’s embarrassment one bit. “Is there something I should do?” he asked, resting on top of Mark with a growing sense of pride. He wanted Mark. He wanted his cum.
“Nah, just go to the bathroom or wash when you want to. We’re all sticky anyway. It’s not like you’ll be getting pregnant.” Mark snorted and kissed the tip of Griff’s nose.
Griffith exhaled and chewed on his lip, remembering that horrible moment when Charlotte revealed that her South American adventure hadn’t ended with her getting on a plane. “At least my parents don’t have to worry about that in my case,” he said, watching Mark, still drunk on their closeness. “Can I tell you something very sensitive? I mean... something you can never tell anyone?”
“Of course.” Mark stroked Griff’s hair, relaxed and sated.
Griff was tired himself, but laying on top of Mark and losing his virginity, were so exciting he wasn’t ready for sleep yet. And they would have to clean up here before they left the gatehouse anyway.
Griffith brushed his fingertips up and down Mark’s cheek. “The reason why they’re so worried is because of Charlotte. I’m sorry I lied to you about Allen, but hardly anyone knows she’s his mother.”
Mark stilled, watching Griff with a curious expression. “Allen. Your… adopted brother?”
Griffith nodded, exhaling deeply. “Mum and Dad adopted him because they wanted Charlotte to have a chance at a normal life after the mistake she’d made. It makes me angry on one hand, but I do feel for her. She might take him back once she’s done with university and all that.”
“And… when was that?”
“After that fling she had with the Colombian guy. He’s the father.”
Mark took a deep breath. “Y-yeah, he’s got those dark curls, doesn’t he?”
Griff laughed and ran his fingers through Mark’s hair. “A bit like yours.”
Chapter 18 - Mark
Mark was a zombie.
He’d helped Griffith tidy up the gatehouse and hide any traces of their presence other than the broken window. He’d held Griffith’s hand and kissed him goodbye once they returned to the main house where some of the guests were still chatting over food. All this, he’d done on autopilot, because his head echoed
with a giant:
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
He had a kid. He’d talked to that kid, so he had certainty that Allen existed, with his big brown eyes and curls just like Mark’s.
Whenever Mark tried to go back in his head to the fantastic night with Griff, the experience was tainted by those few words whispered to him at the end. At three in the morning, Mark was still up in the guest room, frantically chasing his own thoughts.
He was a father. A dad. At twenty one. Of a three-year-old kid.
If he hadn’t made the decision to go after Charlotte, he might have never found out, and Allen would have grown up thinking that he’d been abandoned by his father. Just the thought of it turned Mark’s stomach inside out. How on earth was he supposed to make this right?
Enough was enough. He needed to talk to Charlotte. Face to face.
He got up from the single bed, dressed in the clothes he’d packed for tomorrow, and left his room, for a moment standing still in the long, dark corridor. It was like a being in its own right. Every step he made on the wooden floor squeaked, and shadows played games with the old windows, breathing on him with the scents of wood and wax..
The dark tunnel led to the newer part of the house where Charlotte was staying, but Mark couldn’t make another step. He pulled out his phone in panic. He had no idea how to handle the upcoming conversation with her, or what to do about this clusterfuck. He’d thought it was awkward that he’d slept with two siblings, but this? This was a nightmare.
When Domenico wouldn’t answer his phone, Mark sat on a windowsill and stayed still, battling his conflicting thoughts in silence. In the end, he decided to call the emergency phone. Wasn’t this an emergency after all?
Domenico picked up that call almost instantly, his ragged breathing a crackle on the line. “What is it?”
“It’s me… Mark.”
Domenico gave a loud exhale. “Yes, I know. What’s the emergency?”
“I… I’ve got a hypothetical question,” Mark whispered in the darkness, conscious of needing to keep his voice low.
The heavy, prolonged silence that followed made him cringe.
“You disturb my sex life for a hypothetical question? This is the emergency phone. What about it don’t you understand?”
“But… but hypothetically, if you got a girl pregnant—”
“That would never happen. You got a girl pregnant?” Dom’s voice raised, and Seth was asking something in the background.
Mark rubbed his forehead, pulling up his feet and curling up by the window that offered a view on the parkland outside. There was nothing here that could help him with this. “It’s complicated.”
“There’s nothing complicated about this. Did you or did not?”
“I’m just asking a question. What would you do?”
The sound on the other side of the line devolved into a lot of hissing and barking between Domenico and Seth, after which Domenico put Mark on loudspeaker.
“Mark, haven’t you learned your lesson? Always use condoms!” Seth said in exasperation. “What will you two do now?”
“What do you mean what will they do? Take responsibility for their actions,” was Domenico’s answer to Mark’s own burning question.
Mark sighed deeply. This wasn’t helping at all. “What’s responsibility though?”
“I mean… there are many options,” Seth said slowly.
“Abortion’s not an option,” Mark said, thinking of the sweet, happy boy he’d met earlier.
“Well said,” Domenico told him, following it with a loud sigh. “Is she marriage material?”
Seth butted in. “Wasn’t there a boy you were seeing just two weeks ago or something?”
“It’s… complicated.”
“Aah… Is it a trans boy?” Seth asked and Mark wanted to slam his head against the window to end his misery.
“No, these are two different people. I don’t love her anymore.”
Domenico groaned. “You’re throwing the word love around like it’s a tennis ball.”
“Oh, no, Mark. What if your boyfriend finds out?” lamented Seth.
It was like a kick to Mark’s stomach, and yet he needed someone to hear him out. “I know. It’s a mess. I can’t abandon this kid.”
“Is she some kind of slut you met at a club?” Domenico asked, once again returning to the gist behind his marriage material question.
Mark groaned. “No, she’s lovely, but we went our separate ways.”
“You either propose or make sure you get custody then. Can you pay her off to sign away her parental rights?”
“Dom! She’s the mother. You can’t just assume she’d want that,” Seth complained.
This was useless. “I can’t propose to her. I told you we’re finished.”
“So? Can’t you just fuck your boy on the side?” Dom asked as if that were a moral option.
“He can’t do that. That’s awful advice!” Seth got even louder.
“Is it? I’d estimate up to seventy percent of the guys I fucked in my life were married. People do this all the time. No reason to feel guilty if life forces you to make those choices,” Domenico said.
“It’s not like any of those guys would have lost their lives if they divorced their wives. It’s just convenient for them to stay married. And so incredibly selfish,” Seth hissed.
“Okay. Good talk about this hypothetical issue. I think I need to work it out myself,” Mark said, unwilling to continue the conversation that was getting out of hand.
Domenico groaned. “Next time you want this kind of advice, just wait and use the normal phone. This discussion got me soft.”
Mark rolled his eyes. “TMI much? Goodnight.” He could still hear Seth laughing when he disconnected.
He had to start moving, or otherwise, he would stay on this windowsill forever. He knew where Griff’s old room was, and when they’d sneaked in earlier, Griff had warned him they needed to stay quiet next to Charlotte’s door.
Tucked into a niche midway down the hallway upstairs, it had no identifying features, but hid away the person who now held the key to Mark’s future. As silently as he could, using both hands, he pressed on the handle, but it didn’t budge. Locked then.
He groaned and rolled his eyes, pulling out a pocket knife with which he easily opened the simple lock. He snuck in, assessing the room first, but everything was the way he expected. The space had many pieces of antique furniture but was elevated to modernity with little additions such as succulents, graphic pillows, and strings of fairy lights hung on one of the walls. The curtains were wide open, and the pale moonlight streamed in, showcasing Charlotte’s form in the canopied bed. Under the covers, her chest was slowly working up and down, and when Mark silently made his way closer, he swallowed when it struck him how the serenity of her features reminded him of that first time he’d seen her. Drugged and unconscious, strapped inside a trunk like an expensive statue to be gifted to Raul ‘The Cannibal’ Moreno.
He was about to wake her up when something familiar caught his attention. On her bedside table, by a brass lamp lay a denim baseball cap. It was as if his tendons and muscles became strings that had been tightened too much by the puppeteer. There was a jaguar embroidered at the front of the hat—a pattern he’d seen so many times in stores in El Encanto’s harbor, and he knew all too well where Charlotte had the cap from. Despite all the rejections, she still chose to keep the cap he’d gotten her on the day they parted.
Three years on, she had changed and grown up, but in her sleep, with no nasty words flying from her pink lips, he could see the girl he’d met and fallen in love with in El Encanto. As he stood by her bed, he realized he wasn’t sure how to approach this situation. On one hand, he was angry with her for not telling him about the baby first thing after they met in Bristol, but on the other—the things she’d seen in Colombia had been terrifying, part of a world that wasn’t hers. He didn’t think it was her right to isolate him from Allen, but he could also see where Charlo
tte was coming from.
Still, certain things needed to be said, and seeing no better option, Mark leaned over Charlotte and put his hand over her lips to silence the scream that would inevitably come.
Her eyes went wide once the initial confusion of being awakened was gone. His palm absorbed her voice, and the tremors of it crawled all the way to Mark’s ears, as if he were hearing her after all. Charlotte’s first instinct was to twist from under him, but he grabbed her hands and efficiently pinned her down.
“Shhh… I’m not here to hurt you. But we do need to talk.” He watched her struggle for a moment, and then she surrendered, eyes already welling up. He hated himself that little bit for her fear, but what was he to do? There was no other way if he wanted to know about his own kid.
A kid who he hadn’t been there for. Brought up by people Mark didn’t know.
She cried into his hand again, and when her eyes shut, a big tear spilled across her temple and into her hair.
He exhaled and counted to three, trying hard to put himself in her shoes. “Look, I’m going to let go if you promise not to scream. All I want is a chat, and then I’ll be gone.”
She took her time processing this but eventually nodded and let go of his forearm. As he slowly pulled his hand away, he still watched her for signs of her being about to call for help, but she stayed silent.
Mark took a deep breath, unsure how he should broach the topic. “You avoiding me? That I can understand, but I… okay, we’re different people now, but you should have told me about Allen.” He had to take a deep breath after saying his son’s name. His son’s. It was still incomprehensible.
Watching her now, he couldn’t help feeling guilty for not loving her. Their moment had passed, and yet the effect of what they used to share was still there.
Charlotte swallowed, wiping away her tears with the heel of her hand. She kept avoiding his gaze, as if she could burn alive if she glanced straight at Mark. “He told you? He barely even knows you. I can’t believe my own brother would be spreading this gossip!”
“He’s got my hair and my eyes, Charlotte. It’s not ‘gossip’, is it?” Mark struggled to keep his voice down and sat on her bed, taking a deep breath of the cool air.
A Breath of Innocence Page 24
