Chapter Twenty-Five

We snag our booth in the pub, and Mark sits close to me, promptly wrapping an arm around my back and slotting his hand onto my waist. Tommy's gaze lingers a moment on the contact, but he glances away without complaining or picking a fight. Since he said how Mark has liked me since first year, he's stopped giving him a hard time. Mostly.

Sebastian sits next, setting down our drinks.

"They gave me this." Sebastian places a pencil and a piece of paper on the table.

Tommy looks toward the barkeep. "He was probably asking for your number," he says.

"It's for trivia," I explain.

"Trivia?" Tommy repeats.

"Yes. Did I not mention that?" I ask.

"You said you were going out for drinks."

"…We have drinks, too. What do you have against trivia, Tommy?" I ask, noting his peeved tone.

"I just got through five days of trivia at college, essays are kicking my ass, and now I have to use my brain more ?" Tommy grumbles.

Sebastian sits next to Tommy and pulls the sheet of paper in front of himself as he looks across the room. His eyes narrow at the other tables. "Do they all have dictionaries?"

"It's a hardcore trivia quiz, which is why we brought you, Seb," Mark says. He roots around in his jacket pocket and digs out a miniature dictionary. "And we also have a dictionary."

Neither Sebastian or Tommy look impressed as Mark sets the tiny book on the table, and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. "Do you have a microscope in your other pocket?" I ask.

Mark hums. "That's not a microscope you're feeling."

"Don't you—"

"I will kill you if—"

Sebastian's and Tommy's complaints become a jumbled mess as both object sternly to Mark's remark. He laughs in delight and I grin with him.

"Mark, you will wake up on fire if I have to hear anything like that ever again," Sebastian threatens him.

"I'll provide the gasoline," Tommy says, seriously.

"You're both so grumpy," Mark teases.

Sebastian glares at him, and while he might not light Mark on fire, he'll probably get up and leave if Mark makes any more remarks like that. I pat his thigh under the table and he glances at me, fighting a smile.

"For the sake of trivia night, I'll keep it PG," he says.

His phone buzzes, and he digs it out. The name ‘Damien' flashes across the screen before he hangs up without answering and tucks the phone away. Sebastian and Tommy are talking—I catch a word or two. Gasoline. Firelighters. Matches. Rope .

"Everything okay?" I ask.

"All good," Mark says.

I wonder about it, but don't press. Although my wondering turns to worry as the calls keep coming in during the quiz, and Mark continuously declines to answer.

"It's a whale, isn't it?" Tommy says.

"Ah, yes," Sebastian says, mocking. "Whales, the most famous of land animals."

"Did he specify land animals?" Tommy demands.

"Yes, when he asked the question. If you hadn't stopped listening half-way through, you might have heard it," Sebastian says. He's been giving Tommy a hard time the entire quiz. Probably because Tommy, despite his initial complaints, is more into it than any of us.

"Big eyes…predators all have small eyes," Tommy muses. "Elephants are the biggest mammal but they have small eyes, and so do hippos. Horses have quite big—maybe ostriches? Half their head is just their eyes."

Mark's phone buzzes as Sebastian writes down the answer. The host is half-way through the next question.

"Do you need to answer it?" I ask Mark quietly.

"It's nothing important," he says. He puts the phone back into his pocket, and in seconds, it's buzzing again. Mark ignores it. "What was the question again?"

I missed it, too. We glance at Sebastian and Tommy, who are too busy debating among themselves to hear him. We join in on the next question, and by the end of the night, we're working as a team. Kind of. Sebastian keeps the paper, and he refuses to write any suggestion he doesn't approve of. Tommy is devastated when the results come in.

"Last?" he repeats, outraged.

There are chuckles from the other patrons, and the host tells him that he's won a consolation drink on the house. It doesn't do much consoling.

"Are you always a sore loser?" Sebastian asks, as if he didn't look just as dissatisfied as Tommy when the results were announced.

Tommy grumbles under his breath as Mark retrieves our round of free drinks. He drinks his fast while I sip mine. He seems a little off, not paying much attention to the conversation right up until we're leaving.

"Are we going to a club?" Tommy asks.

"Yes," Sebastian replies. They're both a few drinks in and geared up for a late night.

I glance at Mark, before I focus my attention on Tommy. "I'm going to call it a night," I say.

Tommy jolts in the middle of nodding. "Would you prefer if we went somewhere you can sit? There are tons of late bars open still."

"No, I'm good," I say.

"Alright," Tommy studies my face, probably checking to make sure I mean it and am not just being polite. "See you Monday," he says. He and Sebastian break away, and I glance at Mark.

"Are you going to go with them?"

"With them ? " Mark looks at me, clearly confused. "Let's grab a taxi."

We do that in relative silence, and I struggle not to fuss myself over it. Someone's calling Mark that he doesn't want to talk to, but he isn't blocking them. It could be an ex, his brother, or maybe his dad? I go to ask but stop. He might not want to talk about it. And to be honest, I don't like when I'm in an off mood and people keep asking if I'm okay.

I silently brainstorm date ideas that are more engaging than trivia night. It's a barrier that everything Mark and I used to do together involved extremely physical activities, and I'd prefer to do something where Mark doesn't need to worry about me. I'm still lost in my thoughts, drawing a complete blank when we pull up at the apartments.

"Here," I hand the taxi driver money. "See you Monday—no, it's okay, you don't need to walk me to the door, I'll manage," I say as Mark unbuckles. "You don't need to go calling another taxi that way."

Mark hesitates, and I see his focus swarm to the here and now. "I can't come in?"

I blink. "Oh, yeah, of course, I thought—yeah, no problem."

Mark gets out of the taxi after me and trots to my side, snagging my hand. I pretend he's not staring at my face with a troubled look as he squeezes my fingers.

"You were quiet," I say, giving in. "I thought you wanted to go home."

"Sorry," Mark sighs.

"You don't need to be sorry." I shrug. "Can't help it if you were bored." Even as I say it, I know that isn't really it. It was something unrelated to me, but I feel weird. I'm used to Mark paying full attention to me, I guess. And maybe I'm a little shy after we slept together.

"I wasn't bored."

We step into the building out of the night's chill and walk to the elevator. Mark looks at me again with that troubled expression. He tugs me to his chest as I press the button. "Sorry for being grumpy," he says, stroking my side. "Damien was calling, and I don't want to talk to him."

That much I figured out.

"My family always hosts a winter party, and my brother is so damn annoying about trying to drag me to it," Mark adds, grumbling. His arm tightens around me and his grip anchors me to him. "It's a stupid dance. All networking. It's extremely boring, and I know one way or another I'll end up having to go. I didn't mean to be grumpy with you."

"You weren't grumpy," I say. "Just distracted. I wasn't trying to give out to you about it either."

The elevator pings open and we step on. I press the button with Mark clinging to my back. His weight unbalances me, and I grab the railing at my elbow to balance. Mark chuckles, and—

"Wait, are you drunk?" I realise abruptly. He's been drinking fast since the first round, but I didn't think much of it since Tommy was easily keeping pace. But Tommy is a heavyweight. Is Mark?

Mark tightens his arms on me. "Maybe a bit," he admits. He nuzzles the back of my neck, making me shiver. "See, you should think about these things, Kyle," he admonishes. "You wanted to send me home, drunk and alone, to stumble around and end up in a ditch somewhere."

"I didn't realise!" I object. He chuckles before I even finish speaking, and pecks a gentle kiss to the back of my neck. Goosebumps break out over my skin as I grip the railing.

"I love this spot," Mark says, reaching up to tease his fingers into my hairline, gently stroking my scalp. My weight tips heavily to the railing as arousal trickles through my body in small, powerful waves. "It's so soft, and you always smell good. Whenever I tease here you melt in my arms."

My eyes are half-lidded as the elevator doors open. My breaths come heavy and I feel weighted, doing exactly as Mark said—sinking into his arms.

"Knees weak, Kyle?" Mark teases.

I feel vibrating against my side. "Your phone is ringing. Again."

"I don't really care anymore," Mark says. My legs are swept from under me. My heart wrenches, though I don't cry out—I've learned there's no danger of Mark dropping me. He holds me bridal-style, pressing a dozen kisses to my jaw as he steps out of the elevator and walks to the apartment.

At Mark's insistence, I unlock the front door from his arms. "Wait," I mumble when I see the lights are already on as the door swings inwards. "I don't want Chris to see you carrying me."

Too late. Chris stands at the edge of the kitchen island where he has a clear view of us stepping in. His eyes flick over us, landing on my face as it catches fire.

Mark steps in, heeling the front door shut behind him. "Kyle is tired," he says in explanation. Everything about his voice is smugness, as if he's won some victory over Chris. I pinch his arm. "Put me down," I grumble, aggrieved.

Mark presses a kiss to my cheek instead. "Of course," he says, walking into the apartment. "Onto the bed. Goodnight, Chris," he adds absently.

I press my cheek against Mark's collarbone, avoiding eye contact as I pass him. "Night, Chris," I mumble.

Chris sighs heavily. "I'm heading out for my training camp early, so if I might not see you before I fly out. I'll leave breakfast in the oven for the morning. Goodnight."

I call out a thank you.

Mark shuts the door to my room behind him, and I glare. "Why do you have to pick fights with him like that?" I complain.

Mark sets me on my back and promptly undresses me. "I'm establishing myself," he replies, unconcerned.

"You don't need to do that in front of Chris. He's not trying to chase you off," I say. If Chris had an issue with Mark, he would do just that. "He wouldn't have told you about my brothers if he didn't approve of you. Although keep this up and he's going to stop approving."

Mark has my prosthetic off and me in only my boxers by the time I finish.

He shucks off his own clothes and crawls on top of me. "You're my favourite person," he says, happily.

His behaviour in front of Chris is forgotten.

"I am?"

"So pretty, so sweet…" Mark pulls back the blankets and gets us underneath them. And then gets back on top of me, settling himself between my thighs. I love the weight of him on me, love his kisses and his sweet words. He whispers more into the dip of my collarbone, praises into the tendons of my neck, soft groans into the sensitive spot behind my ear as our bodies move together.

My hands slide around to hold his back, loving how his muscles flex beneath my palms. Mark's groans transform to breathless repetitions of my name. Our bodies roll together, and Mark tenses suddenly, grunting as he releases. I caress his back through his orgasm, hot all over. It's the first time he came before me and I like holding him as he unravels.

I shuffle beneath him to get my head turned and plant soft kisses of my own against his lips. Mark hums, returning a kiss that feels like a soft caress. After a moment, he lifts his weight. I object, trying to keep him against me.

Mark's hair is rumbled, strands falling forward to cover his forehead. His black eyes, usually sharp and glinting, are soft. His little smile makes my heart stop. "I neglected you," Mark notes, running his knuckles over my covered cock.

"Not at all," I whisper back, afraid a loud voice might break this moment of softness.

Mark answers my pleading hands, bending to kiss me as he administers soft attention to my body. His kisses trail down, his head vanishing beneath the covers. He peels down my underwear, and his hot breath touches my cock; and I'm gone. I orgasm hard, crying out, and clutch a handful of curls into a fist. Ugh, embarrassing. I came early again. Yet, Mark doesn't seem to care in the slightest. He dips his head, sucking my entire flagging length into his mouth. He cleans me with his mouth until I whimper, too sensitive, and only then does he move on. He slips my underwear off and tosses them away, and lies out next to me.

Mark tugs me to his side, turning so I'm the little spoon. "Still sore down here?" he murmurs, sounding drunk as he touches my behind.

I nod. I've been reminded of our time in bed every time I sat down all week.

Mark noses the back of my neck. "Do you want a massage?"

"I'm good. Tired."

"In the morning, then. I bought bruising cream to use inside."

"I'm not bruised." I object.

"Just in case, babe," Mark murmurs, mostly to himself. I twist to see his eyes shut; his breaths coming deep and regular.

"Are you sleep talking?"

He just hums.

I smile to myself, reaching over him to turn off the lights.