by Riley Knight
“I’ll make it good,” Mark promised. “Uh … I need lube and condoms.”
Scott took a deep breath and then shook his head. For his first time, he didn’t want there to be a barrier between them.
“So … I got tested, just got the results the day before yesterday,” Scott admitted. “I’m clean. Are you?”
“Yeah,” Mark said. “I haven’t been with anyone but you since I last got tested. I’m clean, babe.”
“Then let’s skip the condom,” Scott suggested. “I want to feel you inside me with nothing in the way.”
He trusted his man, and he knew Mark trusted him back, so why not? After all, they were married now. This was just one more way that they could be connected.
“Okay, that sounds good. Lie back, gorgeous. On your back,” Mark directed, and Scott, for once, let himself just follow those directions. He let himself give himself over into Mark’s care, confident that Mark would treat him right.
Still, he was undoubtedly nervous, and he closed his eyes and took deep, calming breaths, right into the very pit of his stomach. That’s where all those nerves lived, and he battled them, refusing to give into them.
That’s what he’d always done. Run from what he was, who he was. Not anymore.
His eyes flew open as he felt the first touch of slick, cool fingers on his perineum. He gasped softly, the sensation washing over him and doing far more to help soothe his nerves than the deep breaths had done.
And then those fingers brushed over the tight, puckered entrance to his body, and Scott was utterly lost.
Had he really resisted this for so long? Why? He groaned and spread his legs wider, and when Mark finally breached him with the tip of one finger, he was so ready. Tight, yes, previously untouched, but ready.
That finger eased in, and Scott moaned, gazing down at Mark. Any remaining nerves he had were eradicated when he saw how Mark was gazing back at him. There was so much love in his eyes, so much tenderness, and a real and clear desire to make this good for him, and if Scott hadn’t fallen hopelessly for him already, he would have done so then.
Slowly, Mark rocked that finger inside of Scott, and only when it was slipping deep without hindrance did Mark add another finger. That stretched him more, but Scott was ready for it, and he felt only satisfaction at the penetration.
“Babe, are you okay? Is this good?” Mark checked in with him, and Scott whimpered and nodded. Then Mark changed the angle that his fingers were pressing inside him, and he touched something deep inside Scott, something that made his world seem to contract to a pinprick, made his cock throb and leak all over itself.
“Oh God! Mark, baby, more,” Scott found himself moaning, barely even recognizing his own voice. So that was the prostate. He’d heard about it, but never experienced what it could offer.
Suddenly, he needed to know what it would feel like to have the head of Mark’s cock rubbing that spot inside him. It was an urge that overwhelmed him and made the fingers feel like they were no longer enough.
“Inside me,” Scott demanded, his legs flung wide open, his cock leaking a trail of precome from its head all over his stomach. He was so ready, he’d never been more ready for anything. “Now, Mark, fuck, now!”
Mark grinned at him, and slowly eased his fingers from Scott’s body. He felt unbearably empty when they were gone, but that would be fixed soon enough, he knew. He just had to wait a little bit longer.
Watching as Mark slicked more of the slippery lube over his thick cock until it glistened was deeply erotic. Scott wondered how something so big could fit inside of him, but there was no fear to the thought. He was too dazed with arousal, too filled with pleasure, to worry about much of anything.
Finally, Mark was on top of him, face to face, like he somehow knew that this was the way that Scott wanted to do it. The blunt head of his cock nudged between the cheeks of Scott’s ass, and he breathed deeply, trying to keep himself relaxed.
“I’ll go slow,” Mark murmured, and he was as good as his word. Slowly, inch by inch, Mark worked his way inside of Scott’s body.
The pain that he felt was minimal, because Mark was so careful, and because the pleasure overwhelmed it. Mostly what Scott felt was satisfaction, a deep, shivery, sense of fullness. It had him keening softly, crying out for more, clinging to Mark.
“Mark, baby, I love you, please,” Scott said, rocking his hips up to meet the other man’s thrusts. Had he really been so afraid of this? Not that he could be sorry that he’d waited, not when he’d waited for this.
“I love you too,” Mark said, and he angled each of his thrusts so that it pressed right against that magic spot deep inside of Scott. Too good. He was going to come too fast, there was no way that he could last.
“I’m close,” Mark admitted, and it was music to Scott’s ears. They could always go again later, but there was no way that he was going to be able to hold off for much longer.
“Me too. Together?” Scott asked, and at Mark’s nod, Scott finally let go. He finally stopped even trying to hold back, and he let the pleasure that had been building so quickly rip through his whole body, exploding through him with a force that stole his breath and even seemed to stop his heart, just for a second or two.
“I can’t believe I waited to do that,” Scott breathed when he could form words again. But Mark, he just smiled at him.
“I’m glad that you did,” he admitted.
Chapter Twelve
Mark
It took about a week, but they had finally gotten their fill of each other to the point that they could stomach the thought of going out and doing something that didn’t involve both of them being naked.
Oh, they’d gone out to eat a few times, and that had been fun, but it had always been within the hour, and then they needed to get back to a private place so that they could molest each other again. After a week of not only sex but also intimate talking and cuddling, Mark felt like he could stand to be clothed and out in a semi-public place for a bit.
But not too clothed …
“Here. Wear my swim trunks again,” Mark said, tossing them over to Scott. He could still remember when he and his daughter had gone to the beach with Scott, with Scott wearing Mark’s clothing. It had been almost unbearably hot.
Scott grinned at him and tugged the trunks on, and they both grabbed towels. They would go down to the pool, they decided. Get some sun, since they’d been inside most of the time. It actually sounded pretty pleasant, sitting in the hot Mexican sun and relaxing a little. Getting his energy back so that he could have Scott again for most of the night.
It was a good plan. For Mark. But they were only down by the pool for half an hour or so before Scott started to squirm.
“Come on, Mark, let’s go swimming,” Scott prompted, and Mark shook his head. The hot sun was making him lazy, and he thought he might catch up on some of the sleep that he’d been missing by their near constant activity between the sheets.
“Nah,” Mark said. “Maybe in a few minutes.” Which they both knew meant that it probably wasn’t going to happen. Mark’s muscles all felt deliciously relaxed, and he was enjoying the heat of the sun. If he moved, he thought it might become oppressive rather than pleasant.
“I’ll swim with you if you want,” said the most gorgeous female voice that Mark had ever heard. It was the auditory version of whiskey, smooth and slightly husky. And there was something familiar about that voice …
“Holy shit, Jillian!” Scott was suddenly grinning, though he’d looked a bit pouty there for a second. In seconds, Scott was up out of his chair and throwing himself at someone.
Mark turned around, only to be met with a familiar face. He’d never met Jillian, but he recognized her. She played Scott’s character’s wife. She hadn’t been there the day that Mark had been on the show, but he recognized her anyway.
Damned if she wasn’t even prettier in person.
All slender curves, big green eyes, and blond hair, she was a bombshell, no doubt a
bout it. The kind of girl that would be fighting guys off with a stick, and not only that, but she was hilarious.
“What are you doing here?” Scott asked, still hugging Jillian far too tightly for Mark’s liking. Damn it, Jillian’s golden beauty and Scott’s darker attractiveness made them far too pretty a couple.
“Since you left, you asshole,” she said, but she was grinning and clearly not angry about it, “We did all that we could without you. Good thing we were running ahead, right? I decided to take some vacation time, but I had no idea that you were coming here!”
They finally disengaged from the hug (finally!), but then Jillian grabbed Scott by the wrist.
“That’s a hell of a coincidence,” Mark commented, trying to make his voice sound calm, but not entirely sure that he pulled it off. He was fighting off some serious jealousy, but neither of them had actually done anything bad yet. He had to control himself.
Damned if he didn’t have a temper, though, and the way that Jillian kept touching Scott drove him insane. The two of them could be such the Hollywood power couple.
“Yeah, it is,” Scott said, but he sounded more delighted than upset about it.
“Yep,” Jillian agreed. “Come on, Scott. You promised to go swimming with me.”
“I did not,” Scott said, laughing. He turned to look at Mark like he finally remembered that he had a husband. Or that’s how it seemed to him, anyway. “Hey, you don’t mind, do you? I won’t be gone for long.”
Mark knew that he couldn’t do anything but wave them off, or else he’d look like a complete psycho. So he nodded and watched in increasing misery as the two of them headed for the pool, laughing and joking like old friends.
Surely Scott wouldn’t. Not on their honeymoon. But when Mark frantically tried to play back their wedding ceremony in his head, he didn’t remember anything about them promising to ‘forsake all others.’ And they’d never discussed whether this was a monogamous commitment or not.
Mark would have assumed it was because that was the only way that he could really see himself being in a relationship at all, much less a marriage. But this thing had started off, at least, as simply an arrangement that would suit both of them.
He’d thought that it had become more, but now, he wasn’t sure. Would the normal rules apply? Would Scott actually …?
Scott, laughing, grinned at Jillian as she put her hand on his shoulder. Jillian, who could offer Scott something that Mark couldn’t ever, no matter how much Mark loved him. Jillian was a girl, and that was something that Mark could just never be.
He watched, feeling like he’d swallowed a hot stone that was filling his stomach even as it burned him from the inside. He wanted to storm over, to pull Jillian away from Scott, to stake his claim on the man …
But that wasn’t okay, and he knew it. His jealousy had gotten him into trouble before, and the fact was, he wasn’t going to mess this up. Not when nothing had really even happened.
So, while he did walk over to them, it was just to force a smile, undoubtedly somewhat tight, at his husband. Jillian, he ignored entirely.
“I’ll be in our room,” he told Scott and ignored his surprised look. Did Scott really expect Mark to just sit there and watch as Scott flirted with someone else? Mark could keep himself from acting insane, maybe, but that didn’t mean that he was, or would ever be, the sort of person who could handle that.
Or maybe he could have if he’d known for sure that Scott was his. The fact was, he just didn’t know if this meant to Scott what it meant to Mark. And even he could tell that shouting the question out right there at the pool wasn’t going to be a very good idea.
So he walked away, and he just had to hope that Scott would come back to him. Rather than, say, going off with a very attractive blonde bombshell who just happened to seem to be pretty damn interested.
* * *
When Mark had packed his sketchbook and some good quality pencils, he hadn’t been sure that he would even have time to use them. After all, this was his honeymoon. But he never went much of anywhere without something to draw on, and he was glad to have it as he waited.
The seconds ticked by, and each one of them felt like a full minute. Each minute, Mark figured, had to be lasting about an hour. It was only ten minutes until the hotel room door opened (Nine minutes and thirty-five seconds exactly. Mark had been keeping track, as pathetic as that was) but it felt like it might have been hours. Ten minutes, at least ten hours, that’s how it seemed.
“What’s going on?” Scott asked, and the worry was clear on his face. “You just took off. Jillian didn’t know what to make of it, you storming off in a huff like that.”
Storming off in a huff? When Mark had done everything that he could to control his temper? That seemed somehow unfair, and Mark burned with a low, simmering anger.
He had to control it, though. His previous relationship hadn’t been good or healthy for either of them, and he refused to have this marriage go the way of the last. One failed marriage was enough.
“I don’t care much about what Jillian thinks about me,” Mark said, his tone deliberately quiet. There, he was controlling his anger, but what about the second part of this? The part where his ex-wife had never known what to expect from him, because one second, he’d be apparently completely calm, and the next, he’d be yelling?
So the trick was, not to freeze up completely. To keep himself from getting so damn furious by letting himself feel things earlier, to sort of ‘vent’ things safely. Mark had found that out by parenting, and he just had to hope that it held true in romantic relationships as well.
Otherwise, he really, really had no idea how he was going to make this work. He was the one with experience in being married, but that didn’t seem to be helping him figure out how to do this thing with Scott right. He felt completely in the dark, scared, bewildered, angry, and confused about how to do this right.
All of those feelings, and more, roiled inside of him, making it almost impossible for him to think clearly. But that was always his habit, and he had to break it if this had any chance of working.
“What’s going on?” Scott asked, approaching him and sitting on the bed, where Mark had been busy sketching. Not that he had any idea at all what it was that he’d been drawing. He’d just let his hand move on its own, thinking the whole time about Scott, and about what all of this meant to him.
“I need to know something,” Mark said, and he was glad to hear that his voice came out calm, not angry. Intense, yes, but that wasn’t something that Mark could even help. It was intrinsic to him, and that was something that anyone who was with him was going to need to know.
“What is it?” Scott was a bit wary, and Mark wasn’t even sure that he could blame him.
“When we were married, neither of us ever talked about it being, you know, a monogamous thing. So I guess I need to know …” Mark took a deep breath, trying to soothe his nerves, trying to calm himself down enough to hear the answer to this question, whatever it was, “This thing we’re doing, are you going to go and sleep with other people?”
“What?” Scott sounded genuinely surprised about that, but with how Scott and Jillian had been flirting, that didn’t make any sense at all to Mark. He didn’t buy it. “Why the hell would you ask me something like that?”
“Oh, give me a break. I saw you panting after that girl,” Mark said, and there was anger in his voice. Not enough that he was shouting, but there was an added intensity to his voice.
Maybe that was okay. Maybe Mark was allowed to be a little bit angry sometimes. Maybe that was better than trying to bottle it all up until it exploded out of him in a venomous fountain.
“Jillian? I know her from work, that’s all,” Scott protested.
Mark snorted and turned away. He turned his gaze to the sketchbook, but he didn’t really see what he’d drawn there.
“She was all over you, and you didn’t seem to mind,” Mark said, his eyes tracing over the lines that his pencil had inscribe
d on the snowy white paper. He followed the graceful curves, the shading, the details.
“Jillian is married, Mark,” Scott said, his tone almost plaintive like he was nearly begging Mark to believe him.
“So are you,” Mark felt the need to point out. Was he being an asshole? Probably, but they needed to have this out. He needed to know what they were before he fell even harder and deeper than he already had. “You’re married, too, Scott. That didn’t stop you.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Scott said, and now there was a tinge of anger in his voice, too. “I wouldn’t sleep with Jillian!”
Mark raised his eyes so that he was looking deep into Scott’s eyes, and he had to admit, he didn’t see a lie there. He saw annoyance, sadness, frustration, but no hint of dishonesty.
“Why not?” Mark pressed, needing more. Needing to know if Scott thought about this the same way that Mark did. Mark was in love, and Scott had said that he was too, but only that one time in their vows.
What did those words mean to Scott? That’s what Mark really wanted to know.
“Because … because I’m married to you,” Scott said slowly, and then his words started to pick up steam, to come out of him faster, harder, as though torn out of him by unseen forces. “Because I wouldn’t sleep with anyone, but mostly because I don’t think I’m even interested in girls.”
Mark blinked, stunned, literally, into silence, for a few seconds. Was Scott saying what Mark thought he was? He’d had his suspicions about Scott, but other than knowing that Scott wasn’t straight, he didn’t know how far that went.
“What are you saying?” Mark asked when he could finally speak. He leaned toward Scott. There was something about this moment that made the anger utterly evaporate. Something that made him sense that this could be a breakthrough moment for them both, but especially for Scott.
“I’m saying that I think I might be gay.” Scott’s voice was tiny and scared.
“You know, babe, bisexuality is a thing,” Mark pointed out mildly. “You don’t have to be gay just because you love me.”
