by Anna Martin
Instead, Dylan had found his stride coaching with Little League.
He’d only been coaching for a few years now, having started as an assistant coach when he was sixteen. Steve had been amazed at how open Dylan was with the kids. When he was combative and aggressive with everyone else, Dylan became patient and kind and encouraging around little kids. Steve hadn’t ever pushed, never wanted to step too far into Dylan’s world. Plus, watching Little League games was even more torturous than watching major league games.
For St. Patrick’s Day this year, with a lot of pressure from Dylan, there was a Little League game in the morning before the high school games started. It meant Dylan was up and out of the house early, which was almost unheard of for a weekend, and Steve got a blessed extra few hours in bed since Dylan had banned Steve from going. Having Steve around made him nervous.
Despite an overcast start to the day, the sun broke through around lunchtime. Which was a relief, because Steve had an outfit planned, and he hated when things went wrong.
Though his work colleagues had wanted Steve to join their cookout down by the lake, he’d politely declined in favor of getting drunk with Carl and Brian, plus a few of their extended circle of friends.
Do I need to bring anything other than beer?
Steve texted Carl before he left the house, already planning a back route to the liquor store since the roads were sure to be jammed. His phone buzzed when he was halfway there.
CUPS
Someone forgetting cups was almost as important a tradition as the baseball game.
The guy at the liquor store raised an eyebrow at Steve’s T-shirt, but didn’t say anything when Steve mirrored his expression.
That’s right, bitch.
He wasn’t planning on getting totally trashed… except that usually happened anyway. The good thing about Dylan being old enough to drive himself home these days was Steve knowing he could abandon his car and Dylan would take him to find it in the morning.
As he’d expected, the lake parking lot was already full when Steve arrived, and cars were being directed into the school next door. Having learned his lesson many, many times, Steve took a picture of his car on his phone after he’d parked, with the picture clearly showing the area the car was in. It would mean finding it again tomorrow with Dylan would be a hell of a lot easier.
Carl and the guys were camped out farther up the hill, away from the lake and with a decent view into the baseball stadium to keep an eye on the game. They couldn’t really see any of the game play, but the scoreboard was lit up like a tree at Christmas.
“Hey,” Steve called as he walked over. Carl saw him first, noticed Steve’s T-shirt, and rolled his eyes.
“Fine,” he said and landed a smacking kiss on Steve’s cheek.
The shirt said Kiss Me Quick, all the letters making a Pride rainbow. Steve was out and proud and loved the shirt more than he probably should. Brian caught on and laughed, pulling Steve into a hug and kissing his other cheek.
“Hey, Steve, how are things?”
“Good,” Steve said, returning the bear hug. Which was apt, since Brian definitely had bearish attributes. “Beer?”
“We have a cooler under the tree,” Brian said. “Carl’s hungry, but we probably won’t start cooking for another hour.”
“That’s fine by me.”
Steve hugged his way around the group, even though he didn’t know everyone all that well. They were Carl’s friends, people Steve hung out with socially throughout the year but wouldn’t necessarily hang out with on his own. That was fine; he had always been the sort of person to keep a few close friends rather than a large circle of them. These guys were friendly enough and always welcomed Steve on occasions like this.
“Where’s your boy?” Brian asked as Steve transferred his beers into the cooler and took a cold one.
“The team he coaches was playing this morning; now he’s watching the game. I offered to go with him, but he said he’s going to watch it with his own friends this year.”
“Aw, you got dumped?” Brian teased.
“Happily so,” Steve said with a laugh. He clinked the neck of his beer against Brian’s. “Dylan has come out of his shell in the past six months or so. It’s been good for him.”
“Since he started working at the garage?”
“Yeah, since he started at college, really. I wasn’t sure about the program when he first signed up for it. I thought it would be better for him to keep studying full-time. But working part-time while getting the certificate has given him so much confidence.”
Brian nodded. “That’s good. He needed that. To have more people to rely on than just you.”
“Yeah. Even though it hurts… my baby’s flying the nest.”
“Hah.” Brian had a booming laugh, and threw an arm around Steve’s shoulders. “Not looking for the next kid to adopt, then?”
“Not right now.” It had become his staple answer. His friends all knew Steve had wanted a big family. “Dylan and I are doing pretty great.”
“He’s a good kid.”
Brian had been one of Steve’s biggest allies when he announced he was going to adopt. It was Brian, rather than Carl, who had written the glowing recommendation to the adoption agency about why Steve would be an amazing parent. While all his other friends thought Steve was crazy—and those sentiments only got louder when he announced he was adopting a teenager—Brian’s faith in him had never wavered. And Steve had never forgotten that.
Steve elbowed him in the ribs. “It’s yours and Carl’s turn next.”
“Oh, hell no,” Carl called over. “I conceded on the dog. We’re not having kids.”
“I’m softening him up,” Brian whispered to Steve. Steve just laughed, knowing it was only a matter of time before Carl conceded. His hard exterior was all a mask—he was a giant softie underneath. And despite all his protestations, Carl adored children.
A huge roar went up over the stadium, and Brian craned his neck to check the score.
“Who are we rooting for this year?”
“Forest Heights High,” one of the guys said. “My brother-in-law works there. Apparently they have a good team this year.”
Brian shrugged. “That works.”
Steve grabbed his camping chair and flipped it open, finding a sunny spot to relax in. He liked this time of year, before the heat of the summer really settled in. For the next few hours, he was happy to drink a few beers, let the conversation flow around him, and have Brian bring him hot dogs from the grill when Carl was done burning them.
He got a few text messages from Dylan with updates on how the games were progressing and avoided any conversation with Carl on the status of his sex life. That was probably a good thing, because in the middle of the afternoon, Mark arrived.
Steve wasn’t paying attention when Kevin got up and waved his arms at someone. He was concentrating on not spilling mustard on his shirt while listening to Brian talk about his dog.
It was only when Kevin started introducing the new guy around the group that Steve looked up… and into the soft gray eyes that had become so familiar.
“Mark, this is Steve.”
“Hi, Mark,” Steve said. No one else was shaking hands so he didn’t get to his feet, just waved slightly awkwardly. Mark smiled at him, but Kevin was already moving on, ushering Mark to talk to someone else.
“He looks familiar,” Carl said in a low voice.
“Hmm?”
He wasn’t about to admit that Mark had spent a decent amount of time over the past few weeks balls deep in Steve’s ass. That was definitely not a conversation he wanted to have.
“Honey, don’t think about it too hard,” Brian said, twisting the top off one of the disgusting mixed drinks Carl preferred, since he hated beer. “You’ll only strain something.”
Steve kept his expression purposefully neutral, not wanting to give Carl any ammunition. He was lucky Brian had kept Carl well supplied with alcohol throughout the afternoon, or els
e Carl would probably want to probe the thought a little more deeply.
Mark actually sat down for a while, on the edge of the picnic blanket Kevin was sharing with his friends. Steve forced himself not to look over, not to notice how adorable Mark looked in jeans and a plain T-shirt. He was wearing flip-flops, and somehow Steve found that cute too.
It was probably a sign. Probably a bad one.
The crowd at the baseball stadium spilled out at around six when the tournament finished, and then a band started up at eight on the stage that had been built for the occasion, signaling they were moving into the evening festivities. This was usually when parents with younger kids rounded them all up to take them home and the high school kids started sneaking alcohol from anyone who was drunk enough to give it to them.
Steve was still pointedly not looking at Mark, not paying him too much attention in case Carl followed his staring and figured out Mark was the hot daddy from the bar, when Mark got up and took a few steps away as he spoke to someone on the phone.
Steve finished his beer and fished out his own phone. There was a text from Dylan, just a quick message saying he was done for the day and heading home to sleep off a headache. Steve wasn’t sure if that was an excuse or not; sometimes Dylan didn’t like big crowds. Either way, Steve didn’t have any intention of going home yet. He replied to Dylan, telling him where to find cash if he wanted to order dinner and not to stay up for him.
For a while, Steve listened in to a conversation about a house remodel one of Carl’s friends was in the process of, offering his own opinions about kitchen design. Then his phone buzzed with another message.
It was just the address of a hotel, one on the outskirts of town. From Mark.
Holy shit, Steve was definitely in the mood for some kinky hotel sex. Before he could come up with a reply, another message came through.
9pm
That was fine. It gave Steve another couple of hours to hang out here and soak up the atmosphere.
“I’m heading out.” Mark waved from a few yards away. He’d turned a little pink in the sun. “It was nice to meet you guys.”
“You too,” Steve murmured and watched him head back out toward the parking lot.
“Is he gay?” Brian asked as Mark walked away, his tight little ass on display. “He’s cute.”
“You’re taken,” Carl said pointedly.
Brian shrugged and reached for another beer. “I can still wonder if a guy is gay or not. What do you think, Steve?”
Steve focused intently on his beer label. “I have absolutely no idea.”
STEVE GRIPPED the crisp linen hotel sheets in both hands and let out a guttural grunt as Mark’s cock hit the sweet spot inside him at just the right angle.
“Fuck. Fuck!”
Mark had one hand wrapped around Steve’s hip, the other in the middle of Steve’s back to hold him in place. Like this, on his knees with his forearms braced against the bed, Steve felt like he could let go.
When Steve had arrived at the hotel, Mark was already there, shirt unbuttoned to show off his chest, his strong fingers curled around a bottle of whiskey. Steve wasn’t even aware that particular look was something he was attracted to. Judging by how quickly he ended up on his knees, he should probably add it to his list of kinks.
Now that Steve was starting to have feelings for Mark other than I want to suck your cock, the sex was changing too. Not just because Mark was learning all the little things that drove Steve crazy either. Steve knew he could relax, he didn’t have to keep his guard up or worry if Mark was going to use a condom or wonder if Mark was going to turn into some homophobic jerk as soon as he got off. Steve had been through all of that in the past and now….
Holy shit.
He could focus.
“Can you come like this?” Mark demanded, his voice low, rough. “Or do you want me to jerk you off?”
Steve whimpered and clutched the sheets tighter, letting his head drop down past his shoulders.
Head down, ass up.
“Fuck!”
Thinking in whole sentences was getting harder.
Mark leaned down to drape himself over Steve’s back and reached around… no, not for Steve’s cock, but to pinch and pull at his nipples.
“Jesus,” Steve gasped. He turned his head to the side, leaving his neck exposed for Mark’s wet, biting kisses.
“That wasn’t my question.”
Steve would never have pegged Mark for the dominant type, but it was a role Mark slipped into, smooth and easy as anything. And it worked. Steve melted and submitted in ways he’d never experienced before.
“Haven’t managed that in a long time,” he admitted, gasping the words as Mark pounded at his prostate.
“Hmm. Wanna try?” Mark twisted Steve’s nipple again, pairing the pinch of pain with a bite to Steve’s shoulder.
“I’m not as young as I used to be.”
Mark huffed a laugh and slapped Steve’s ass. “Flip over,” he said, pulling out and sitting back on his heels.
Steve did as he was told, not hiding his shameless appreciation of Mark’s toned, fuzzy chest. Mark wasn’t a bear, not like Brian. He kept in good shape and looked comfortable with himself, which was definitely a good thing.
Mark tossed the condom he’d been wearing, opened a new one, and rolled it over his thick cock before covering it in more lube. Steve watched, his legs spread, ass tilted forward, and felt ridiculously slutty.
Mark leaned down and sucked quickly at the head of Steve’s cock, just getting a taste of him before rubbing more lube over Steve’s hole. Steve tipped his head back and went with it.
This time, when Mark fucked him, he pushed his hands into the crook of Steve’s knees, pushing his legs back and holding them open. Steve couldn’t open his eyes, couldn’t look at Mark in case he saw himself reflected back. Steve liked sex, he had a lot of it, but it had been a really, really long time since someone took over his body like this, reducing him to a needy, whimpering rag doll of a man.
Mark found the right angle to nail Steve’s prostate, then hammered at it until Steve came with a choked scream, covering his stomach up to his chin with thick strands of come.
One, two, three thrusts later and Mark stilled, snarling a little as he came.
Steve threw an arm over his face, hiding his expression in the crook of his elbow as he laughed breathlessly. He felt, rather than saw, Mark flop down onto the bed next to him.
“Holy shit,” Steve muttered.
Mark laughed too and pressed a sloppy kiss to Steve’s shoulder.
“Mm-hmm,” he agreed.
For a moment they lay together in a contented silence, the only sound the rushing of blood in Steve’s ears and the heaviness of his own breathing. When he chanced a look over, Mark had his arms stretched over his head, a soft, contented smile on his face.
Deep in his stomach, Steve had an urge to do something he hadn’t done in a very, very long time. Something he’d almost convinced himself he didn’t like to do at all.
While he waged an internal war, Mark cracked an eye open and looked over at Steve. He still had a dopey, post-orgasm expression that didn’t seem to be going anywhere.
Mark looked different without his glasses. Softer. Maybe a little younger.
Steve gave in and rolled onto his side, then ducked his head under Mark’s arm and laid his head down on Mark’s chest. He wasn’t ready to go full hug, instead leaving his hand free to trail up and down Mark’s side.
Mark didn’t say anything about this development, instead wrapping his arm around Steve’s shoulders to securely hold him in place.
They were doing it.
Cuddling.
Post-sex.
And Steve didn’t hate it.
For a while, he drifted on the edge of sleep, almost napping to the comforting rhythm of Mark’s heartbeat.
“Steve.”
“Mm?”
Mark brushed his fingers through Steve’s hair, settling it back into pl
ace. “Do you have anywhere to be?”
“Nope,” Steve said easily. He stretched, then settled back on Mark’s chest. “Hey, I have a question.”
Mark yawned loudly. “Go for it.”
“How come you’re so soft-spoken nearly all the time, then when we get into bed, you turn into this intense Dom top?”
The strangled sort of noise Mark made definitely warranted further investigation, so Steve gave up his spot to twist around and look at him. Mark was blushing. It was adorable.
“Come on.”
“I’m serious!” Steve exclaimed. “It’s a good thing, by the way.”
“Someone once told me that my sex voice is the same as my teacher voice,” Mark said, petting Steve until he settled back down with his head on Mark’s shoulder.
“You had sex with a student?”
“No. Jeez.”
“It was a valid question,” Steve said, and poked him in the side.
“He was the dad of one of my students.”
“Ooh. Kinky.”
“Neither of us were aware of that until after we’d had sex. And I refused to do it again after I found out.”
“You’re a real stickler for rules, aren’t you? That’s probably why you make such a good Dom top.”
Mark snorted again. “There’s a few things that I won’t compromise on. I abhor cheating, having been cheated on more than once by someone I care about.”
“I’m sorry,” Steve said softly.
“So I don’t care if someone has ‘permission’ from their wife to sleep with men. I won’t get involved in that.”
“Understandable. What else?”
“I hate to burst your bubble, but I’m really not that kinky.”
“Says the guy who has fucked me in public on more than one occasion.”
“Point,” Mark said easily. “You have to remember, Steve, that I was in my thirties the first time I went to a gay bar. I got married at twenty-four, the year after I graduated with my teaching degree, and we were twenty-six when Karen had the twins. I was very quietly bisexual for a long time because it was much easier to be that rather than correct people’s assumptions and deal with their prejudices.”
