by Joey W. Hill
“Interference? Someone trying to run your life, tell you what to do, control things? Yeah, welcome to family culture shock.” She dimpled. “I have faith in you. You’ll get used to it. You might even move from tolerance to actually liking it, after a few decades. It grows on you, like an affectionate fungus.”
He chuckled, but sat silently for a time, gathering his thoughts. Her fingertips glided back and forth across his chest, her eyes on him. She didn’t speak, waiting him out, giving him time.
“I’m sure about Thomas’s feelings, but how do you think Marcus really feels about it?” Because he knew exactly how he’d feel if Julie had decided to donate her kidney to someone.
“He’ll be worried as hell and masking it,” Julie said bluntly. “Thomas is what makes him human, and whole. But if Thomas can help, that’s what he’s going to do, and he’ll do a good job all on his own making Marcus okay with it, don’t worry. Marcus is a different kind of Dom from you. You have it as this simmering undercurrent delicious to feel, like being surrounded by a cocoon of vibrating energy, even when I’m not with you. You turn it up when it’s time to let it out to play. Whereas Marcus…”
“It’s usually at a nine, even at low level. Yeah, I picked up on that. Doms do take each other’s measure. Have you ever watched the two of them have a scene?”
“Oh God, no.” Her expression was comical. “I imagine it, which gets me stirred up, but I think they’d be horribly uncomfortable with me watching. Their favorite dungeon in New York is men only. Marcus will go to co-ed. He says he doesn’t really give a shit about gay men’s hang ups about doing scenes in co-ed clubs, but I think it’s still a comfort zone thing for Thomas. I get it.”
“Would it turn you on to watch them, if you could do it without embarrassment on either side?”
She snorted. “It would turn on anything with a pulse. I take it we’re done talking about life and death decisions for a while?”
“We are.” He squeezed her hand. “I haven’t seen you in four days. I have bigger issues.”
“I’m not fooled. You’re trying to distract me with sex so I’ll forgive you for the cone of silence.”
“I would never try something that devious and underhanded. Besides, you already forgave me. You’re a saint that way, forgiving the inevitable shortcomings of those around you.”
“Mm-hm.” She did a credible imitation of Billie Dee-Lite and earned a smile from him as he recognized it.
“Not bad.”
“Well, it still needs work. But I think you actually have to be a formidable black woman to pull off the intonation. That ‘who do you think you’re fooling’ and ‘boy, I will so kick your ass’ combo.
“Or a formidable black drag queen.”
“Exactly.” She paused to trace his cheek and jaw. “I know it can’t always be perfect for us,” she said seriously, “and I know you have to be your own person. I know I can be a steam roller when I’m worried and want to take care of someone I love. So we're going to hurt each other again. I’m not naïve. I just need you to understand that when you pull away and close down, it leaves me all alone with years of built up insecurity about guys who walk away from me emotionally and physically.”
“I know.” He closed his hand over hers. “I’m sorry, Julie.”
She glanced down at where his hand tangled with her other one in her lap. “I try to manage that shit on my own, but one of the things I like about you is how open you seem to be to me and my feelings. So I’ll work on being better on my end if you could add one thing to that Billy Joel song.”
She watched him figure it out, and he loved the pleasure in her eyes when he did. “The part that says when he’s deep inside himself, not to be too concerned, because he doesn’t really need anything while he’s gone?”
“Yeah. If you could just send me a hug or two when you’re in that place, stick your head out now and again, that would be great.”
He met her eyes. “Even if I’m deep in my head, I still need you, Julie. That’s how I knew when I fell in love with you. For the first time in my life I need someone so much I can’t turn it off and convince myself otherwise.”
She slid her arms around his neck, holding him close and turning her head to his mouth, offering him a marvelously predictable hot, toe-curling kiss. He quickly took over, fist in her hair and in the back of her shirt, finding bare flesh beneath it and telegraphing his desire. They’d need to find somewhere private really soon.
“Good answer,” she said against his lips.
Chapter Twenty
Marcus leaned against the wall, watching the nurse flutter around his lover, doing her job while blushing and smiling at Thomas’s uncalculated charm. His sexy, slow smile, the way he called all women ma’am, how he tried to accommodate her while she was trying to do the pre-surgery prep, were all part of what Marcus found appealing about him.
Yet there were far, far deeper and broader things that bound the two of them together. During the time Thomas had left him to care for his family, during the struggle to reconcile their own needs with that, Marcus’s gut had ached for everything they could be to one another, a chance they’d had for far too brief a period.
Now past the worst of those challenges, the two of them were married and Thomas’s art career was in full swing. Yet Marcus felt like he’d experienced only the tip of the iceberg of how deep their bonds went. He loved his farm boy more every day, a condition only exacerbated by Thomas feeling the same way.
His initial reaction to Thomas’s decision to give his cousin a kidney had been no, no and oh hell no. He was the selfish one. He knew that and didn’t apologize for it. But he’d learned it didn’t matter who he was to Thomas as Master or husband, friend or lover, there was an inviolate area of choice that belonged to Thomas alone. It was an essential part of who he was, and as much a part of what Marcus loved about him as anything else. Goddamn it.
Marcus knew he was a prick for wishing he hadn’t visited Des to give him the option, persuading him toward this. But fuck, he loved Julie, and Thomas had asked him to do it.
“You’re good at convincing people to do things they think they’d never do,” his pet had said, his brown eyes knowing and understanding Marcus’s dilemma, but trapping his conscience in a corner on it regardless. He’d make Thomas pay for that later in a variety of ways. There would be a later. He wasn’t going to be a drama queen about this. Thomas would never let him live it down.
Almost no one who donated a kidney died during the surgery. Very few had any complications afterward, and Thomas was strong and healthy as a draft horse, especially now that they’d gotten on top of that ulcer he’d developed some time ago.
As the nurse took her leave, Thomas’s doe-brown eyes came back to him. “You look like a glowering statue over there,” he observed. “Or a stick of dynamite about to go off. Not sure which.”
“I’m missing a whole day of work for this. And don’t get me started on how far behind you’ll be on those three pieces you owe me for the San Francisco show.”
“You don’t care about any of that.” Thomas held out a hand. “Come sit on the bed with me.”
“There are many things I want to do on a bed with you. Sitting is not the first one that comes to mind.”
“It’s the hospital gown, isn’t it? The way the pale color leeches all the pigment out of my skin and how the sack-like shape and gap in the back show off my ass. It makes me irresistible.”
Marcus came and sat on the bed, bracing his ankle on his opposite knee. Thomas’s hand fell naturally on his thigh and their fingers laced. “Your mom should be here soon with Rory,” Marcus said.
“Yeah, he’ll take any opportunity to drive, now that he has the hand-controlled van. I told you that we should have called them afterwards, or just waited and brought it up at Easter dinner. ‘Hey, I did two gallery showings and we visited Monterey. Here are the pictures. Oh, and by the way, I donated a kidney to Julie’s soulmate.’”
Marcus arched a b
row. “Under normal circumstances, I have zero fear of your mother. Telling her we didn’t give her so much as a heads up before they put you on a table, cut you open and took a major organ out…”
He cut himself off when a mortifying and terrifyingly strong wave of emotion hit him. He was squeezing Thomas’s hand so hard he was likely going to break it. “I shouldn’t be here.”
“You have to be here. I need you. It’s in the marriage rule book.” Thomas wouldn’t let him pull away. “Do me a favor. Hold me in that way you do really well, that convinces us both everything’s fine.”
Actually that was the feeling Marcus got when Thomas was holding him, but since he was supposed to be the alpha and Master here, he had enough pride not to say it. Though from Thomas’s knowing look, Marcus figured he already knew it. But he did wrap his arms around Thomas. His pet sat up so it wasn’t like Marcus was lying in his arms like some swooning heroine. He knew this helped Thomas as much as it helped him. That was what the whole marriage deal was about, too.
Thomas let out a sigh and relaxed against him as Marcus threaded his fingers through the curls at his nape and tugged. Then he trailed them past the tie of the gown and stroked the bare line of his spine.
“It’s going to suck, being out of commission on the sex side of things for a while,” Thomas said.
“As long as you can get on your knees and give me blow jobs, I’m good with it.”
“Asshole.” Thomas put his lips against Marcus’s neck and bit lightly, but it sent a bolt of response into dark, savage places Marcus knew were too close to the surface. His farm boy was fanning the flames. “Let’s get in a quick fuck before this all goes down.”
Marcus chuckled, though his fingers dug into Thomas’s back muscles as his submissive’s lips and tongue dragged over his carotid. Marcus had fucked him endlessly last night and, though he hadn’t always been gentle, he’d been thorough.
“You are pushing it,” Marcus muttered, drawing his head back. He gave Thomas a warning look, though the moist look of Thomas’s lips was way too distracting. He attempted a casual tone.
“If I entertain that idea for even a millisecond, that’s when your mother and Rory would come in. Your mother would have a heart attack and Rory would swear we’d burned out his retinas.”
Still, Marcus slid his hand under the covers, under that blissfully loose gown, and closed his hand around his sub, his slave, his heart and soul.
His gaze flicked up. He knew Thomas had only been half teasing, but it was still a surprise to find him fully erect. Thomas gave him a strained smile. “You should have seen yourself while the nurse was prepping me. Face all stern, you leaning against the wall with your arms crossed over your chest. You’re wearing jeans today and you didn’t shave this morning, giving you that rougher, more dangerous look.”
When Thomas nipped his neck again, Marcus found his footing. Using a grip on his hair to pull him away, Marcus pushed him to his back, reinforcing the motion with a harsh command. “Stay down.”
Thomas’s eyes widened and flicked to the closed door, but he’d started this and Marcus would finish it. He had ears like a cat’s. Plus this wasn’t going to take long.
He raked up Thomas’s gown and bent over him as Thomas sucked in a breath. “Marcus.”
“Just lie there and take it. You’re mine to do whenever I want, right?”
Thomas nodded, his jaw tight, long fingers clutching the covers. Marcus put his mouth over him, went down on that hard, rigid organ that pulsed under his tongue and lips. He knew this body better than his own, knew Thomas deep down was a little worried, a little scared, as anyone would be. His Master could make sure he knew it was all right, no matter how bone deep terrified Marcus was of losing him, of something going wrong. This act, meaning so much more than just mouth, hand, cock and orgasm, could calm things for both of them.
Those who thought going down on a man was a submissive act had never done it this way. Ordering the man in question to be still as he held all control and took away rational thought with the strong suction of his mouth, the clever dance of his tongue, the sweet, sucking sound that escaped his lips—it was like crack to a Dominant. Marcus flicked his gaze up to see Thomas helpless and shaking, lips parted and eyes half closed. Marcus slid his fingers around to Thomas’s fine ass, dug into the muscular cheeks to push him harder into his mouth. He knew Thomas’s triggers, playing around the edge of the corona, tickling, licking and stimulating under the ridge, feeling the vein pulse and bunch beneath the pressure of his lips.
“Marcus…”
“Not my fucking name,” Marcus growled against him. “Not right now.”
“Master.” Thomas’s hand dropped to his head, to tangle in Marcus’s hair and Marcus allowed it, because they both needed the closed circuit of contact for this current to build and achieve the desired effect.
“Now,” he said against him, and his pet surged up like a taut bow, as obedient and wild as Marcus could wish. He released into Marcus’s mouth and he swallowed him down, sucking and stroking, gripping him with his hand, wanting to give him the best damn blow job he’d ever had in his life. If the worst happened and Thomas woke up on the other side, Marcus wanted his reaction to all the pleasure of Heaven to be a shrug and one three-word statement:
“I’ve had better.”
Yeah, one of these days lightning was going to hit him. Though right now, feeling hard as a rock and quivering inside as much as Thomas was outside, Marcus felt as though it had.
Marcus shifted off him, but stayed leaning over his body. He had his sub’s gown rucked up so he could fondle his cock and balls, make him twitch and jerk because he was so sensitive. Thomas grimaced, knowing his Master was doing it on purpose, but he didn’t try to get away. He just did those little quivers, his brown eyes alive with fire and fastened on Marcus’s face. “I should do something for you.”
“Yes, you should. But you’ll do it later. An IOU I fully intend to collect.” Marcus bent and pressed a kiss to Thomas’s upper thigh, then found himself staying there, his cheek to the muscled flesh as he slid his arms around Thomas’s ass, thighs and waist to hold him firmly against him.
“My sticky cock is going to get stuck in your beautiful hair.”
“Won’t that be a picture for the nurse?”
Thomas stroked his hair, moving it away from the area of danger. Marcus could feel the care and caress in his touch. His pet’s breathing was deep, erratic, his thundering heart trying to return to a resting rate. His femoral artery pulsed beneath Marcus’s cheek.
“Remind me again why we’re doing this?” he spoke against Thomas.
“Because we love Julie, and because this guy is family. And because it’s the right thing to do.”
“Yeah. Bollocks on all of that. I love you, Thomas. You’re the good one of the two of us. You’re going to be fine, because you know I’m Satan, and if anything goes wrong I’m going to unleash a plague on the world.”
“Bollocks right back,” Thomas responded mildly, as Marcus released him to prop on one hand and look at him. “You’re a good man and you always have been. You take care of your family, and that’s been a shifting definition all your life, to anyone who needs you. Me, Julie and my family, which is now your family.”
“No matter what Rory says,” Marcus added, his standard quip. He paused. “Do you believe it, what you said earlier? That Des is the right one?”
“I think so. You’ve seen her with other guys. I never really had the chance to do that, but this feels different from what I heard about her other relationships. Real and deep. They have a good shot.”
“Yeah.”
Thomas trailed his fingers through Marcus’s hair, those clever digits that created masterpieces. “I worry about her, though. After waiting so long for someone who will treat her right, she could lose him.”
“Yeah, she could. But she’s already figured out it’s better than not having had that gift. She’ll embrace it a hundred and twenty percent because
of that.”
“Her change of heart surprised me at first,” Thomas admitted. “I was pretty sure she’d accepted being alone, and had moved relationships lower on her priority list. Her life is so full. Complete. You know how she is. Good friends, good life, and she positively glows when it comes to the theater and the career she built there. I expected her to struggle more with whether or not it’s worth it to get herself tangled up with someone.”
“No you didn’t.” Marcus caressed Thomas’s abdomen, lips curving as he squirmed when he hit a ticklish spot. “You know Julie has wanted to be deeply, totally in love with the man of her dreams all her life. Even if she’d convinced herself she’d given up on that, it happens when it’s going to happen, and you don’t get a choice. It’s like planning to adopt a Yorkshire Terrier and coming home with a St. Bernard. Love chooses you, and Julie’s natural state is to love or be loved. And she’s got a moderate sub side, so…”
“She has no choice but to adopt Des and let him sleep on her bed.”
“Wasn’t that the way it worked for us, pet? I saw this scruffy-looking, starved artist and I had to bring him home.”
“If I remember, you did let me sleep in your bed, from that very first night.”
“Well, you begged, with those soulful brown eyes.”
“Softy. Oh, fuck, I hear my mother’s shoes. Get off the bed so I can pull my gown down.”
To Marcus’s amusement, they scrambled like a couple of guilty teenagers putting things to right. He nearly vaulted back to his position against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. A quick glance said the erection he was nursing had subsided enough to miss notice, though the sparkle in Thomas’s eye, the grin on his face, could likely spur it back to life in no time.
Yeah, that was the effect his sub had on every part of him. Even as he wished the cost wasn’t all of them being here in the hospital, Marcus was glad Julie had finally found that. He’d given himself his own answer to why they were here. Whatever was needed, you did it, because love was worth it in a way nothing else in life could ever be.
