Chapter Sixteen

I smell bacon as I wake. I'm disorientated, and I'm not sure why it's hard to breathe or why I'm so hot. I try to lift a hand to get the blankets out of my face, and Mark grunts, rolling so that he's even more on top of me. "Enough wiggling, Kyle," Mark grumbles, sleepily. His voice is husky and I feel the rumble of his chest through our skin contact.

I'm very much awake now. Mark lies on top of me, crushing me into the mattress. He's got the blankets pulled up over our heads.

"Morning," I murmur. I'm far more excited about the fact that he stayed the night than I am bothered about being squished…although I'm hot, sticky, and I can feel that Mark is, too.

"Not yet," Mark mumbles. He moves again, and I suspect for a moment that everything—him approaching me, being friendly and flirty—was all a long con. It was all planned and coordinated for this moment to suffocate me.

"It's too hot," I complain, finding more of my voice. "If you just pull down the blankets so we can breathe? It doesn't mean we have to get out of bed."

Mark doesn't do that. His breathing tells me he's not falling back to sleep, as does his body. He's not relaxed on top of me but has tightened his muscles to hold me against him.

"My leg hurts."

Mark jerks away. "Shit. I thought I wasn't pushing on it."

"You weren't." I snort. I seize my chance and flip the blanket off my face. I groan, covering my eyes against the assault. I turn away from the windows, hiding my face against Mark's chest. "Why are the curtains all open?"

"Because Christopher came in thirty minutes ago to open them and ask what you wanted for breakfast," Mark informs me.

I jolt. "He barged in here?" I pull back to read Mark's expression.

"He knocked," Mark admits begrudgingly. "And I told him he could come in. You didn't wake up, even when he opened the curtains. Now that I didn't tell him he could do. I was trying to let you sleep in more…"

I am going to have words with Chris immediately. I do not want him coming in here while I'm in bed with Mark. Presuming that is, this will happen again. I'm hopeful it will. I overheat as I think about last night. It had been good. So, so good. I've worried the effect that my leg would have on getting intimate, and naturally I fussed that maybe Mark—or any other prospective partner—would be turned off by it…Okay, fine, honestly I've only been thinking about how Mark might react.

"Is this morning after regret, or are you just angry with Christopher?" Mark asks.

My gaze jumps to his face. "Do you regret—"

"No."

Mark's expression is earnest. I wonder what mine is like? Tomato-like, most probably. "I don't either," I mumble out, fighting past a wave of shyness.

Mark's lips tug up at the corner. He leans in, pressing his mouth to the corner of mine. My lids flutter closed and I turn my face toward him, feeling his smile as our mouths connect. Mark guides me onto my back, rolling on top of me as his tongue teases against my lips. I wonder for a moment if Mark finds me easy, and in seconds, my hands are under his shirt and gripping at his back to pull his weight down on me.

Mark grumbles his approval, and the arm not supporting his weight grips my throat and pushes my head back to an exposing angle. His domineering touch draws an aroused moan out of me, and my hips jut up, seeking contact.

Mark chuckles, breaking the kiss and tightening his grip on my throat to keep me still. It's not enough to constrict my breathing, but enough to make my cock twitch.

"Mark," I whisper desperately.

"You're too shy to talk to me in front of my friends, but not too shy to rub against my cock with your big brother in the next room?" Mark asks me in a low, teasing voice.

"I'll be quiet," I whisper. My shyness loses, big time, to lust. Maybe if Mark wasn't squeezing my throat in such a way, it wouldn't have.

"Will you? Alright then. Pull your shorts down," Mark instructs me.

I feel around under the blankets, obeying with arousal, and push my shorts and underwear clear of my cock. I can't get the fabric down any further.

"Good," Mark murmurs. He releases my throat and his hand slips down my body until his fingers skim over my cock. I groan, jerking against his hand, and Mark buries his face into my neck, pressing heated kisses to my skin. I lose contact with his hand and seek it out with mine. I find him pushing down his own shorts, and shove at the fabric at his hips to help him along. His heavy cock comes free, touching mine. I draw in a sharp breath.

Mark rolls his hips against mine experimentally, then sets his elbows on either side of my head, propping up his weight. His hips keep moving, and I grip his sides, tilting my head back into the cushions as I release a drawn-out groan. Mark dips his face to mine, silencing my moans with kisses as he thrusts against me. Our cocks grind together, our stomachs providing friction, and soon I'm breathless as tension and heat build up.

I jerk my face away from Mark. He follows, drawing me into more nerve-exciting kisses, and I struggle, pushing against his chest. He finally lets me go, burying his face into my neck, moaning open-mouthed kisses against my skin. He thrusts against me, pace quickening.

My mouth freed, I drag in deep breaths, moaning his name as I push at him one second—getting that damned hot mouth away so I can breathe—only to pull him closer again the next, missing him as soon as he retreats. Mark nips my throat and I jerk, tensing abruptly. I arch into him, crying out as everything crashes into overload. I clutch at Mark through my orgasm, and his hips piston against me as a low groan slips out from between his parted lips. Our releases mix together on my shirt, and Mark's movements gradually peter out. He captures my mouth once more, kissing me until our breaths level.

I haven't even gotten out of bed yet and I'm already spent.

"If that's you being quiet, I can't wait to hear you when you're not holding back," Mark notes with a chuckle.

I make a noise of objection in my throat. "I tried to be!"

"Oh, no you didn't," Mark says, amusement clear in his voice. "You shoved me away so you were free to make as much noise as you liked."

I—okay, Mark is right. "Do you think he heard?"

"I'm sure he didn't," Mark says, and I can tell at once that he's only saying that to coddle me. "But…you're okay, right? You aren't going to stress out about that?"

I sigh. I will definitely be embarrassed by it. "I'm okay," I grumble. "I know I'm safe with Chris."

"Safe?" Mark repeats the word with a puzzled frown. "Why wouldn't you…" he trails off as he takes in my hooded eyes. "I think another shower is in order," he adds, changing gears before I can respond. "Close your eyes if you don't want to see your leg."

That's all the warning I get before Mark tosses the covers off us and gets out of bed, taking me with him. I grunt in surprise and grab onto his shoulders. Mark pauses once we're up and kicks off his boxers. His cock rests against mine, both of us soft against my thigh. I don't give my stump a second thought, gazing down at our cocks touching. Mark is big, and everything feels so intimate like this, I act without thought. I grab his hair and lean in, pressing my mouth against his, and finally I manage to get my tongue into his mouth. For a second, anyway. Mark hums, tilts his head and regains the upper hand; I'm the one being devoured.

Mark sits on the bed, situating me carefully on his thighs. This position—with me on top and not pinned—means I can move my hips like I want. It's desperate how I rut against Mark, and I reach down to grasp our reinvigorating cocks to hold them together.

Mark catches my wrist, freeing my mouth as he lifts my hand, guiding it to his shoulder. "Keep both hands up here," he tells me.

"I want to hold us together," I complain as I grasp at his curls. I don't care that I'm getting semen in his hair, and Mark either doesn't notice or doesn't care.

"You're allowed to move your hips," Mark says and grins. "And also kiss me. Tell me if the position gets taxing, okay?"

I lean in for a kiss, and Mark grasps the hair at my nape, tugging my head back into an awkward angle that makes my body go still. I grab his shoulders for balance.

"You said I can kiss," I groan.

"Answer me first."

"I—" What did he ask? My mind doesn't provide the answer. "What was it?"

"Tell me if you get uncomfortable. Okay?"

"Okay."

Mark kisses my Adam's apple, and I shudder at the touch against the vulnerable spot. "Do you want me to cover your leg?"

"No, it doesn't bother me." Who has time to pay attention to anything like—

Mark slaps my ass. I yelp, jerking forwards against him, and whimper as the sting registers. My cock twitches, and I come dangerously close to a premature orgasm.

"I said to move your hips," Mark reminds me.

Mark releases my hair and I promptly move in for the kisses I'm allowed, moving my hips and clutching at the back of Mark's hair. Mark reaches between us, grasping my cock for several firm strokes, and then releases me to grasp my ass instead. Come-slick fingers tease my crack, gliding past my hole at first before focusing on the spot.

I'm too distracted to kiss him. I cling to him instead, resting my chin on his shoulder as my breath's stutter. My thighs tremble from the effort of supporting my weight and thrusting, especially while I'm so heavily distracted.

Mark kneads the area until gently the tip of his finger pushes in. I jerk, then bear down on his hand, groaning. Mark turns his head to press kisses against my ear, teasing and distracting me as he works his finger inside.

"You can touch yourself, now," Mark murmurs to me.

I'll come instantly if I do that.

"Are we not doing more?" I ask, shivering as Mark's finger sinks in and out. I wait for him to add more. To push me onto the bed and sink his cock in next.

"Not today."

I shut my eyes, and I don't reach down. I instead thrust my hips back onto his fingers, sure that my wants will come across clearly.

Mark lets out a breath of amusement. "I'm not doing more without supplies, Kyle."

"I have lube." A bottle that went unused for many months, thanks to the accident.

"Condoms?"

I stay quiet.

Mark kisses my cheek, my temple, thrusting his finger into me as he plants sweet caresses across my face.

Reluctantly, I reach down. I grasp Mark's cock, starting with a careful experimental stroke. Mark's breath catches, and I shudder in delight, quickly throwing aside my nerves to pump his cock like I want my own to be touched.

"Can you support your weight?" Mark asks me, breaths heavy.

I nod, not sure if it's true or not. He's had a hand under my ass to help me hold up my weight for a while now. I wobble as he releases the supporting hand, falling especially on my left. I lean into Mark to stay upright. His large hand wraps around my leaking cock and he works me at the same desperate pace I'm handling him.

"Mark—" I cry out, only a few strokes in. I thrust my hips wildly into his hand, moaning and gasping, until I'm falling. Mark catches me. Flips me onto my back and locks his hand over the one I have around his cock, and then thrusts his hips erratically until he's erupting against my palm, hot come spreading over my fingers.

His mouth covers mine in a hard kiss as his hips twitch, and with his guidance, I squeeze every last drop of come from his cock. He breaks the kiss and collapses on top of me with a satisfied groan. I relish the weight of him on top of me, and wiggle to get my hands free to run them up the slopes of his back.

"That felt good," I murmur, my lids heavy.

Mark's chest rumbles as he chuckles. "An understatement, don't you think?" He lifts his torso up and looks down on me, eyes glassy and lips kiss-swollen. His expression is soft and there's a dreamy quality to his smile. "Think we can make it to the shower this time?"

I'm slack, and I don't have the energy, but I nod.

Marks seems tired, too, but lifts me up with no qualms. "We got semen on the sleeve," he notes as he carries me to the shower.

"We got semen on everything," I grumble, seeing the messy sheets over his shoulder. Plus, our clothes are filthy. And it's not like Mark has anything to change into. I think on it a moment. Nothing from my new wardrobe will fit him, but I still have my old things. "Check the bottom drawer of the wardrobe. There are some old clothes that might fit you." Otherwise I'll have to borrow something from Chris.

"I'll have a look," Mark says as he places me on the shower chair. "Hang on, I'll grab the crutches."