Love Language Page 15

  And then a small vibration shook the metal as it slipped down a little further and he loved it.

  Oh, God, it was… And fuck, it was still traveling inside him, squirming deeper into him until it hit something, and pleasure roared up like a volcano.

  Only, a trapped volcano because there was nowhere for all that bliss to go. He just had to take it, tunneling it back into himself like magma in his veins.

  That was… that had to be his prostate. Only Marco was tapping it from the inside. It was lightning, racing through him and burning him up.

  He’d known that it was possible, but Marco had also warned him that it might not happen, so he’d almost forgotten it. But this was impossible and immediate and like nothing he’d ever felt before.

  Marco stroked up his shaft with those oddly smooth nitrile gloves and he felt every nuance of it inside and out. It was like Marco was caressing him twice, but so deeply inside him. He knew, at some level, that Marco was barely touching him, but even that small movement shook him to his core.

  The sounds of his own moans and whimpers filled his ears, his own dirty soundtrack.

  Marco tapped the end and a vibration traveled down through the sounds, burrowing into his prostate. His body resounded like a bell, that tiny movement amplified and reverberating through him.

  He kept his eyes closed, but his hands were free. I’m close, he signed. Or, at least, he thought he was close. Lava welled up in his veins, roaring and racing through him.

  Could he come with the sounds in? What would happen then? Ultimately, it didn’t matter because Marco would make the decision for him.

  Marco began a slow rhythm with the sounds, pulling it out just a bit and then letting it fall again, the curve massaging him inside and the tip pinging against his prostate.

  He fought to keep his hips still, his hands down on the bed. But it was difficult. He was close. So very close.

  And then Marco slowly withdrew the sounds, and the volcano rushed through him, erupting and spilling over and covering him with molten rivers of ecstasy.

  He shook with the power of his orgasm, aftershocks racing through him and leaving him both empty and whole.

  He opened his eyes to watch Marco, his face a mixture of concentration and desire.

  Greg made a beckoning motion with his hands. He wanted Marco closer. Always closer.

  That seemed to be his mantra these days.

  And Marco came to him, not because Greg was in charge, but because Greg needed it and Marco would always give him what he needed.

  Marco leaned over him, pressing his naked chest to Greg’s and kissing him deeply. And it was perfect and wonderful except…

  I have to pee.

  Marco chuckled as he helped pull him to his feet. I know. Go quickly and come back to me.

  Even as he raced from the room, he could see Marco crumpling up the dirty sheet and pulling back the covers.

  Perfect.

  Chapter 13 Marco

  For the rest of the week, there was something just a bit different about Greg. It wasn’t anything big. Just little things.

  He texted more frequently. He asked Marco to come over on Wednesday night, just to order pizza and watch a movie.

  In a way, it wasn’t any different from what they’d done before. They’d stayed in and watched movies before, but it was usually with a specific movie in mind that one of them wanted the other one to see. This was more of a “who cares about the movie, let’s just spend time together” thing.

  And Greg had been sending him texts about his daily life for a while now, usually when he saw something beautiful or funny, or occasionally when something frustrating happened and he wanted to vent.

  Today he’d sent a picture of his lunch. It did look delicious, but was it a hint for something more?

  “Look good! I glad you treat yourself,” he sent back. That was ambiguous enough that it could be encouragement from a friend or a Daddy, right?

  Later, he got a picture of a scrawled sticky note, the text in black but slashed through in several colors. “Productive day!” was the title.

  Sharing a goal that he’d met with a friend or seeking out a Daddy’s approval? Did he want Marco to write checklists for him?

  He knew that Richard had had a regular list of household tasks for Greg to complete, but while he’d mentioned that some of those actions triggered his memories, he’d never given the indications that he was looking for something like that.

  He debated for a long time before writing back. “Nice work! Proud,” he finally decided on. He’d have to see what came of it.

  A smiley face. So… yeah. Whatever that meant.

  But at the back of his mind was a cautious hope. Was Greg finally ready for more in their relationship? He knew he could never replace Richard, but if there could just be a place for him, too…

  He hoped that’s where this was going, because he certainly needed something to go right in his life. FlexTech was killing him. They’d sent him some of the money they owed but claimed to be holding out on the rest until he delivered the product.

  That was how he worked on smaller projects, but this was a larger one where they’d agreed on an hourly rate. It could have saved them money, if they were efficient, but they’d shot themselves in the foot by trying to cheap out early and then being completely disorganized.

  He suspected the company was going to implode before they ever got a product to the shelves. Not that it was any of his business.

  And then they kept sending him emails. Four of them at the office, all with different opinions, and none of whom seemed to be interested in listening to each other.

  Just writing back with, “I noticed that you asked for this, but he asked for this (see attached),” was wasting a huge amount of his time.

  And definitely sapping away his energy.

  And outside of FlexTech, he wasn’t doing so well financially. He’d pick up quick pieces sometimes on those bidding sites, but they didn’t bring in much. Certainly nothing like his old paycheck. They were mostly helpful for referrals and recommendations, not that he’d gotten many of those yet, either.

  He forced himself to get back to work, gratified to take a break and work on the website for a bicycle repair cooperative. They were great clients, easy to communicate with, pleased with his work, and capable of holding meetings on their own time and then emailing him back with a single set of revision requests. Which he especially appreciated since he’d given them a discounted rate.

  Nonetheless, he’d give them his best and add another link to his website.

  He was surprised when five o’clock rolled around and his pocket buzzed with another text coming in.

  Greg: Whew. Long week. Did you decide where we’re going for dinner?

  Marco: Surprise for you.

  Actually, he’d gotten absorbed and forgotten to look, though he had a few options in mind from previous searches. And he could always go to an old favorite.

  Greg: Or you haven’t decided yet?

  Greg was totally on to him, but he appreciated the gentle teasing.

  Greg: What should I wear?

  Part of him lit up on reading it. Did Greg want him to pick out his clothes? He’d loved dressing Greg each morning and evening last weekend, despite the depressing reason for it.

  Of course, it was also a completely reasonable question to ask when they were going to an unspecified restaurant.

  He decided to give in to his desires. At the very worst, Greg would probably humor him even if it didn’t mean the same thing to him.

  Marco: Shirt light blue. Tie with stars. Dinner jacket.

  Greg: :)

  Emojis should be disallowed. Especially since Greg seemed to only use the smiley face. If it was at least something like the blushing face or the kissy face, even the winky face, at least he could read something from it…

  But at least now he knew where they were going. If he got to dress Greg up, he was going to take him somewhere nice.

 
And dinner was lovely, of course. Greg wore the clothes he’d suggested, and it sent a little bolt through Marco’s heart. He looked distinguished and capable, which made Marco feel even luckier that he was the one who got to see the man on his knees.

  Their conversation flowed freely, as it always did. Greg listened to him bitch about FlexTech and suggested that he be more firm with his hours. Which, seriously, he’d been trying to do.

  And Greg was excited about a new product line he was launching, a young adult series with a video game tie-in. Apparently, it was novel because the books would work interactively with the video game instead of trying to lamely make sense of it after the fact.

  They ended their meal with a lemon sorbet served in half of an intact lemon peel. Greg beamed at him. It just made Marco think of how much more he’d like to give to him.

  But when they got back to Greg’s house, Greg seemed slightly off. A bit nervous. He was clingy with Marco, but not in a way that made sense.

  Or, probably, in a way that did make sense. He was doubtless thinking of Richard again.

  He seemed to be tired, too, like he hadn’t slept well the night before. Marco just wanted to wrap him up and cuddle him in bed. Would that be OK?

  For the first few months of their relationship, such as it was, they’d been completely platonic. Once that had changed, they played or hooked up nearly every time they saw each other. Only more recently had they started hanging out without expectations of scenes or sex, but that was usually for a reason, like attending an event that went late into the night.

  His Daddy instincts said that his boy needed sleep.

  Taking control, he ushered Greg into his bedroom, the layout of the house now as familiar to him as his own.

  Greg was pliant as he unbuttoned his shirt and drew it down his arms. He lifted his legs easily as Marco slipped his pants down over his feet.

  Arms up, he prompted. Greg complied, allowing Marco to drag his undershirt over his head. He seemed… thoughtful. Not relaxed, though.

  Let’s go brush teeth. Greg leaned into his touch as he guided him into the bathroom. He thought about taking a shower together, but showers tended to wake Greg up instead of putting him to sleep, and a bath seemed like it would keep him up too late.

  They brushed their teeth together and Marco enjoyed the simple domesticity of it. Greg smiled at him in the mirror, and for a while it seemed like everything was fine.

  He gave Greg a moment of privacy, and then hustled him into bed with a kiss to his forehead. These little acts were so close to filling this need in his soul—but only if Greg appreciated them for what they were.

  Once Greg was in bed, Marco quickly stripped off his own clothes. Recently, he’d been sleeping without his packer on when Greg came over, a change which Greg never mentioned. Did he not notice or not care? And did it matter?

  He left one soft lamp on so that they could talk, if Greg wanted to, and then slipped into the other side of the bed.

  Greg automatically rolled toward him, throwing one arm over his ribs and hiding in his shoulder. He loved that even though Greg was bigger, he usually arranged himself in such a way that made it clear that Marco was holding him instead of the other way around.

  He didn’t settle, though. First, he turned away. Then he turned back around. Then, he pressed soft, little kisses to Marco’s neck.

  Dammit. Marco had read the situation wrong. Did Greg want a scene? Was he supposed to step in more and take charge? Be more of a Dom and less of a Daddy?

  He wished that he had the magical ability to guess what Greg needed and just give it to him, but lacking that, the solution was communication.

  He tapped his shoulder. You seem restless, he started, giving Greg an opening.

  Sorry, Greg looked contrite.

  Well, that wasn’t helpful. What’s going on? How can I help you?

  Greg looked… frustrated? Disappointed?

  Are you thinking about Richard?

  I… no. But he was being evasive.

  Marco wanted to demand his honesty and spank him if he didn’t comply. But that wasn’t the relationship they’d agreed upon. Whatever kinky friends-with-benefits set-up they had going on didn’t allow him to make that demand.

  Am I doing things that remind you of Richard? It was like there was perpetually a third person in their relationship.

  No… I mean, sometimes. He couldn’t read Greg’s expression.

  Marco had gone into their evening tentatively excited about their future, but now he felt like it was slipping away, like a page from a book lost to the wind. He hated this caginess.

  He finally asked the question that he’d been afraid to ask. His promise to avoid activities that would remind Greg of Richard had become a kind of buffer for him, but he’d been realizing recently that it was also sitting heavily between them.

  Is it the opposite? Would you like me to do more of the things that you did in the past? He decided not to mention Richard’s name.

  Greg shrugged. I don’t think that you need to worry about it. You should do what you want.

  Marco eyed him skeptically.

  You’re the Dom, he added unhelpfully, so you should decide.

  Sure, except that BDSM didn’t work like that.

  Should we discuss your limits and interests again?

  Greg opened his mouth, a funny response since they were both signing, and then closed it again.

  No. They haven’t changed.

  But something had changed. He just couldn’t figure out what the hell it was. It had something to do with interests and limits, though.

  Let’s go to sleep, Greg suggested. Then, he buried his face in Greg’s shoulder, ending the conversation.

  With a sinking feeling, he acknowledged his fears. It wasn’t that Greg’s interests and limits had changed; it was that Marco wasn’t meeting them. As much as he wanted their kinks to align, he wasn’t giving Greg what he needed. He wasn’t enough.

  Maybe all the cuddling and doting that he’d started to do, rather than feeling good for both of them, was feeling uncomfortable for Greg. He’d heard it often enough from couples where their kinks were different enough that they started to chafe under the combination.

  Maybe, despite how Greg seemed to embrace their scenes, he was still itching for something darker and rougher than Marco could provide.

  Maybe they were just destined to be good friends, if he could stand going through that. Perhaps he had just been… a placeholder… until Greg was ready to find someone who fit him.

  When they’d first met, he’d been fine with being an experiment, but now it felt like he was wallowing in the mimicry of a relationship. It had all the parts of the relationship that he thought he wanted, all the time spent together and inside jokes, the hot sex and endless conversation. But it didn’t have Greg’s commitment.

  He was putting everything into it, his mind constantly on Greg, on how to make him happy. But maybe he wasn’t enough. Maybe he’d just been reading too much into those ambiguous texts. Greg had certainly seemed lighter and happier recently, but what if it was just the passage of time, or his friendship?

  Should he break things off before he got even more hurt? He wasn’t sure that he could keep it up much longer. And while he could dabble in some of the darker stuff and a little bit of roleplay, he never felt as much like himself when he was doing it. It was more like he was testing something out from a bag of tricks that belonged to someone else.

  Or, let’s be serious, a bag of tricks that belonged to Richard.

  While he’d been rethinking his life, Greg had curled into his chest and fallen asleep, his breath warm on Marco’s skin.

  Could he really give all of this up? He stroked a hand along Greg’s back, shifted a little so that Greg’s leg fell over his.

  Part of him wished he’d never volunteered to be part of Greg’s exploration. Because if Greg lost interest in him now, he’d be torn apart.

  But part of him wouldn’t give it up for anythi
ng. If nothing else, he knew that he’d been there for Greg when he needed him.

  He chased those thoughts around as he fell into an uneasy sleep.

  When he woke up, he felt cranky. It was Saturday, and even though he’d slept in, it hadn’t been restful. He squinted one eye open.

  Greg was wide awake and sitting on the other side of the bed with his tablet, probably doing crossword puzzles. That was good, wasn’t it? That Greg wanted to be near him?

  And was he going to overanalyze every single one of Greg’s actions?

  He sat up, attracting Greg’s attention. His sunny smile suggested that whatever had been bothering him yesterday was over.

  It still lurked, uncomfortably, in Marco’s gut.

  How long have you been awake?

  About two hours.

  You could have woken me!

  I was happy sitting here and you needed the sleep.

  That was sweet. But it still felt like Marco was… behind. Like Greg was taking care of him instead of the other way around.

  Would you like me to make breakfast?

  I actually ran out and got us some fresh bagels. I was just waiting for you to wake up so we could eat.

  Again, adorable, caring, but not in the direction he wanted it to go. And friends bought each other bagels…

  He made a resolution not to hash through every interaction. It was just going to cause him stress. And Greg had just been so sweet.

  He put a big smile on his face and made it real. It wasn’t hard when he was looking at Greg’s deep brown eyes and those silvery flecks in his dark hair.

  Thank you. That sounds wonderful.

  And the bagels were wonderful, but after that, his day started to go downhill.

  FlexTech was blowing up his phone. And while it was true that he did work on Saturdays, when he felt like it, he also didn’t feel that it was reasonable for them to expect him to work on Saturdays. That was another boundary he should have set up better in the beginning.