Love Language Page 8

  Marco took another little risk and started rubbing Greg’s neck. Everybody likes a massage, right? Totally platonic.

  Greg gave him a gentle smile and leaned forward to make space.

  Marco was such a goner.

  The next Thursday was just like always. Marco chose a cute little Dominican restaurant with hand-made mosaics on the tables and amazing mangú.

  It was clearly a family-run place, and Marco had a rare chance to use his Spanish.

  Greg was impressed, since he remembered nothing from four years of high school French and wished he’d learned another language.

  Marco sighed and explained a bit more about his childhood. Greg already knew that he was the only Deaf person in his family, but in the past, he’d only told funny stories.

  At home, though, it hadn’t been easy. Marco’s mother was a janitor and his father cleaned out tanker trucks with horrid chemicals. They both worked long hours and came home exhausted.

  His mother hadn’t been able to learn ASL, which was taught only in English, but someone from the Deaf school that he’d eventually attended had taken the time to teach her cued speech. So, she cued with him in Spanish and treated him mostly like her other two children, in her frustrated, strict, distracted way.

  Marco’s father, however, maintained that Marco just wasn’t trying hard enough. That he needed to learn to speech read, in both English and Spanish, so that he could get a job. Marco could see, if he was feeling charitable, that he had done it out of love based on his own limited views of what Deaf people could do in the world. But hadn’t felt like it.

  It had been a relief to finally attend a school for the Deaf, even with two hours on the bus each way, to find people who understood him.

  He’d probably learned more ASL on the bus than he did in his classes, anyway, he joked.

  Greg shared his own stories of going to a Deaf summer day camp with wretched long hours on the bus. It was apparently where he’d learned most of the dirty words he knew and had his first kiss at the adorable age of eight.

  Greg shook his head and rolled his eyes. It had been with a girl. He gave a mock shudder.

  Marco mostly didn’t actively think much about his gender most of the time, but it was nice knowing that if girls grossed Greg out, even in jest, that he didn’t include Marco in that category.

  When they finally pushed their plates away, Marco was almost too full to get dessert. But he’d read good things about their dulce frío con limón, which was part of why he’d picked the restaurant. He ordered some anyway.

  No lemon? Greg teased. He leaned toward Marco and held his gaze long after he might have dropped it.

  It felt like being on a date.

  But instead of going anywhere, it was all just unresolved chemistry with a guy who was increasingly becoming his... best friend? And who he happened to know shared at least one of his kinks.

  OK, so it was kind of agony.

  I didn’t forget. Marco smiled indulgently.

  Greg loved lemon. So much that Marco had taken to finding restaurants that had lemon-based dishes on the menu. Fish with lemon sauce. Lemon ricotta pancakes. Lemon rosemary chicken. And especially gooey-sweet lemon bars and crisp lemon gelato.

  Or dulce frío con limón.

  When their dessert arrived, he watched Greg scoop up the first bite. He watched his lips close around the layers of cake and candied fruit and cream. Marco told himself to look away, but of course he didn’t. He never could.

  And now Greg was… God. His eyes were closed in ecstasy, head back and throat exposed. His lips just played at a smile, all his attention on the flavors on his tongue.

  Marco wanted to eat him up.

  He loved finding Greg these little treats, but it had nothing on what he wanted to do with him to make him look that way.

  Greg gave Marco a sunny smile. Did you choose this place just for this, um, this thing? He gestured with his spoon, clearly unable to manage the name of the dessert.

  He was just… ugh. How could Marco not want to give him everything? Maybe, he replied, flirtatiously.

  Something flashed over Greg’s face. That pained look that he got when he was thinking of Richard.

  Greg closed his eyes and took several rapid breaths, then seemed to forcibly settle himself. Marco waited, knowing that there was a good chance that Greg would be morose for the rest of the evening, their lovely dessert ruined.

  Greg looked at him, almost unhappily. We could, I mean… Greg started. I trust you. If you still want to play some time…

  Marco’s heart beat fast, but he told himself to calm the fuck down. He hadn’t expected that at all. He felt totally blindsided. And the weird phrasing where it was about whether Marco was interested and that sad look on Greg’s face… What the hell was going on?

  Are you feeling ready to play with someone? he asked tentatively.

  Yeah. I think it would be good for me. I’m… I’m too stuck in my shell. I miss Richard all the time, but I can’t just keep living in the past. I think I need to try things again and see what happens.

  OK, not quite ringing enthusiasm. But he trusted Marco. That meant something, right?

  So, like a relationship? Or friends with benefits? Or another experiment?

  Um… maybe? Not about you, but I just… I’m still not sure what I’m ready for.

  So, not a relationship. The phrase ‘beggars can’t be choosers’ came to mind, and Marco realized that’s exactly where he was. Begging for a little piece of Greg’s life that was already filled by another man.

  It was an uncomfortable place for a Dom to be.

  But he also wanted Greg to be happy, God help him.

  And honestly, he would take him any way he could get him. So, he made himself smile and say, so somewhere between an experiment and friends with benefits? I can do that.

  Greg blushed, like he knew he would. And he did look happy.

  Marco was pretty sure this was going to kill him.

  Would you like to play tonight?

  Greg looked away, that little wince of pain and anguish that always meant Richard. Then he squared his shoulders. Yes, please.

  Marco forced himself to keep his hands easy and relaxed, when all he wanted to do was grab Greg up and drag him home.

  Do you want to discuss limits and interests again?

  Something lit up Greg’s face. Something that made him blush. Marco would have given quite a bit to know what it was.

  But then there was that haunted look, like the idea of remembering it was too painful to contemplate.

  Maybe, Marco suggested gently, we should experiment with some things that you didn’t do with Richard?

  Greg looked relieved. Well, that was something at least.

  For the whole drive back to Greg’s house, both were a bit on edge. He felt like they were both overthinking every movement and signal, every glance.

  Greg was starting to look worried and it wasn’t an ideal time to deal with city traffic. Greg looked out the window and Marco worried that this was going to be a bad idea.

  While he drove, he mentally reviewed everything that he knew about Greg’s relationship with his prior Dom.

  He was sure there were some gaps, but he had a pretty good sense of it from their conversations. It just didn’t quite make sense.

  As far as he could tell, Richard had been into a lot of rough sex, dubcon role play, and possibly some more typical impact play. But generally, darker stuff.

  The dubcon was something that Marco could do, in the right circumstances and with the right person. But he needed to talk through and mentally rehearse it quite a bit first. So, it was just as well that they weren’t going that direction straight off.

  Greg claimed to have been a brat, but Marco couldn’t really see that. Greg seemed too sweet for it. Surely, if there were an inner brat waiting to break free, he would have seen it by now, right?

  But maybe Richard’s death had broken that for him. It was a sobering thought. Marco didn’t l
ike willful subs, as a rule, but he’d like to see Greg expressing himself if that’s what he needed. So, maybe that was something they could come back to.

  There was also a side of Greg’s past relationship that was either domestic discipline or service. Something with a lot of rules and keeping their home fanatically neat.

  The weird part was, that didn’t seem right for Greg, either. Marco knew some subs who were really into that. All the rules and structure and service elements. When they didn’t have it, they were untethered, grasping about for something lacking in their lives.

  But while Marco had heard about how Greg still kept up the same daily routines that Richard had set, a tribute to his past Dom, he’d also said that he liked how Marco’s space seemed “lived in.” He’d even mentioned it when he chose to stop some of routines, describing a mixture of regret and satisfaction.

  The final aspect was what was most confusing. It seemed like Richard hadn’t done much of the praising and doting that always made Greg light up. Not, of course, that there was just one way to be a Dom. And maybe Greg hadn’t needed it as much before. Or perhaps Greg found that too personal to share.

  He certainly hoped Richard had given that to his boy, because Greg absolutely thrived on Marco’s compliments. He glowed whenever Marco did something special for him, like finding restaurants with good reviews for their dulce frío con limón.

  He didn’t ever want to critique someone else’s relationship, but he’d been wondering for a while if Greg was actually as well-matched to Richard as he thought he was.

  Or maybe he was more of a chameleon, adapting his enjoyment to what his Dom wanted. Yeah, that probably made the most sense. Some purer form of submission that was about being pleased with whatever made his Dom happy.

  Even though Marco wasn’t really Greg’s Dom, he probably noticed what Marco liked giving him and responded to that. That at least made a bit more sense.

  Well, regardless of what he had done before, it was Marco’s turn now.

  The way that Greg had absolutely melted into Marco’s ropes when he tried them for the first time… Yeah, maybe some experimentation would be good for him. It sounded like he had a lot to explore.

  Marco needed to just appreciate how fortunate he was to be able to provide that. Even if he was still an experiment.

  For tonight, he thought, looking over at Greg’s tense shoulders, he already had an idea.

  Back at his house, Marco asked Greg to help him spread out an old sheet over the bed.

  For some reason, Greg found this amusing, and it broke the tension a bit. Marco remembered that Greg had been surprised by this the last time, and he finally asked why.

  It’s just… There was that little flash of pain, here and then gone. ...with Richard, everything was a big production. If he was going to do something with me, he would set it all up, and then bring me in to the scene. Like, if he wanted a sheet on the bed, he would get it ready without me seeing it. It would probably be a new one, too, and black or red.

  A new sheet wasn’t what he wanted for this evening at all. That seems like… an interruption. What if you were already spending time together?

  Greg shrugged. He’d probably make me kneel in the living room. Or maybe tell me to take a shower.

  Oh, right. Marco hadn’t really thought of that, but he realized he should have.

  Leaving a sub kneeling had a lot of psychological impact, but he’d mostly played with people at the club where they were already psychologically geared up for the evening. Or he’d play at home with folks whose kinks didn’t lean that way.

  He would have to remember that for next time.

  Except that he’d just said that he wouldn’t do things the same way that Richard did.

  So, does it bother you, helping me set things up?

  No, Greg was quick to reply. It’s a bit like peeking behind the scenes. And it’s… more comfortable, I think. Friendlier.

  Friendlier. Exactly the compliment every Dom wanted to get. Even as a Daddy Dom, he wasn’t sure if that was a good sign.

  Was it bad, from Greg’s perspective, that he wasn’t into that darker, psychological stuff?

  Marco liked the rush of control, the thrill of having someone submit to him, the buzz of pushing someone just to their limits and watching them give in to the sensations.

  He wasn’t a sadist, though. He didn’t like pushing someone to their limits just for his own cruelty and amusement. He didn’t want to take anyone apart.

  He more wanted to… find what they needed and give them just the right amount so that they fell apart.

  Maybe the expectation he’d set of doing things differently from Richard would be good for both of them.

  He realized suddenly that he’d been woolgathering instead of paying attention to Greg. Now Richard was taking up space in both of their brains. Fuck.

  Mentally, he pushed himself into Dom mode and strode aggressively toward Greg. He could see the fear and excitement in his eyes. Alright, so maybe he was just a little bit into that psychological stuff.

  Strip, he signed.

  Greg looked at him, startled and breathy, before he hurried to comply. God, that was a rush.

  Even more so when he’d been dreaming of this moment for so long. It almost didn’t seem like this was real.

  He watched with hungry eyes as Greg revealed all that gorgeous pale skin. Dark hair shot through with gray speckled his chest, drawing his eyes down to that little paunch that Greg complained about, but Marco loved.

  And then he was taking off his pants, the muscles of his legs rippling over each other as he bent and then stood again. He held his hands behind himself in a formal pose of submission, his erection on display and his eyes downcast.

  Except, of course, that with his hands behind him and his eyes down, they couldn’t communicate with each other. If Greg got off on this more formal posturing, Marco would have to think of some other positions for him to use.

  But that was a challenge for another day. If there was one.

  He stepped forward, into Greg’s field of vision. Heat seemed to radiate from his body, and he wanted to just reach out and touch. To control Greg, though, he would first need to control himself.

  On the bed. Face down.

  Greg moved quickly, eagerly. Marco let his eyes devour him, knowing that Greg would know he was being watched.

  He lay face down on the bed, arms stretched out overhead, head turned toward Marco to watch him in return.

  Marco stripped off his own clothes, not putting on a show, but knowing he was being observed. Greg’s face showed only desire, and he felt a tiny bit of relief about a layer of stress he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

  He really, truly, was fine with being transgender. But he still worried a bit each time he disrobed with someone new.

  In a moment, he was stripped down to his boxers. His anatomy was frustrating to deal with sometimes, so keeping his boxers on with his packer tucked firmly inside made it easier to navigate.

  Then, he grabbed the things he would need from his closet, glad that he had everything in the same box. He placed them next to the glass of ice water that he’d put on the nightstand, knowing that Greg wouldn’t recognize its significance.

  He sat gently on the globes of Greg’s delicious ass, taking most of his weight on his knees that were spread to either side of Greg’s hips. He knew that his cock incidentally rubbing against Greg’s ass would be a pleasant diversion, even though he wasn’t planning on going further with it.

  He started with the coconut oil, digging his fingers into the slippery solid and letting small chunks melt from the heat of Greg’s skin. Then, he began massaging them in, stroking over those smooth muscles, enjoying the softer flesh lower on his back.

  Touching Greg sent tingles all through his body. Like eating the forbidden fruit. All his senses were attuned to that warm skin, the tiny movements Greg made as he relaxed into the massage, the rhythmic swell of his breath.

  Smells
good, Greg signed lazily with one hand, his cheek pressed into the pillow.

  Marco leaned forward so Greg could see him. It’s coconut oil. Natural.

  Feels good, too. Maybe we should do this instead of playing.

  Ah ha! Marco had thought Greg was a sensualist, and he couldn’t be more pleased. He leaned forward, rubbing his chest along Greg’s back and his covered cock along his crack. Greg pushed back against him.

  Just pressing against him like this was unbelievable.

  He continued kneading and digging in with his fingers, working his way down Greg’s back until he was relaxed and languid on the bed.

  When Greg’s breathing was calm and slow, Marco wiped his oily hands on the sheets and tapped Greg’s shoulder.

  I’m fine with just doing this, but if you want to try something new… He reached into the box and pulled out a candle. Have you ever tried wax play?

  Greg’s eyes, hazy in relaxation, shot open. He looked nervous and excited, just how Marco wanted him. No, never tried.

  Marco made his face look speculative, asking the question with a raised eyebrow.

  Please! Greg signed awkwardly from laying on his belly.

  I think you’re going to like this. If it’s too hot or you change your mind, just let me know. No, stop, red… any of it, I’ll stop if you tell me to. Understand?

  Understood.

  Marco grabbed the lighter from the bin, flicking it on in front of Greg. He felt him jerk and tense, his breath speeding up. His eyes were wide and dilated, though, his mouth slightly open.

  Even slightly afraid, he wanted this. Or, maybe, he wanted this because he was slightly afraid. Marco felt his own breath hitch, watching Greg give himself up like that.

  Marco waited until the wax began to pool in the candle holder, then tested a few drops on the inside of his own wrist. He was using safety candles, so he didn’t think it was possible for them to get too hot, but he always checked. There was a mini fire extinguisher in the box, too, but Greg didn’t need to know about that. He supposed his version of dominance had a bit of theatricality to it, too.