17. Markus

CHAPTER 17

Markus

The way Nicky looked up at me, his lips glistening from my cum, his cheeks flushed, made every coherent thought flee my brain. He wasn’t just good at giving blowjobs—he was devastatingly perfect. And the way he reacted after I came, jerking himself off like he couldn’t wait another second, groaning my name as he spilled over his fingers—it was chaos. Glorious, messy chaos.

I ran my fingers through his hair as he caught his breath, both of us sticky. For a moment, I let myself just enjoy it—the glow of him leaning against me, the sound of our breathing evening out together.

But the truth simmered in the back of my mind, refusing to let me just stay in this haze. It wasn’t fair to him, not when I knew what I needed, not when I knew this could end up breaking us apart.

“Come here,” I murmured, pulling him to his feet. I sat on the bed and wordlessly invited him onto my thighs. Being this close to him, still naked and warm against me, felt incredible.

His eyes, though. Half-lidded and sated, but also questioning. Like he could sense the shift in me.

“Markus?” He tilted his head, lips curving slightly. “What’s with the serious face?”

I brushed a thumb over his cheek. “We need to talk.”

The faint line between his brows deepened. “Now?”

“If I don’t do this now, I’ll keep putting it off.” I cupped his face, feeling the tension creep into his jaw. “I care about you, Nicky. I don’t want to mess this up by hiding things.”

He stayed silent, his gaze flickering between guarded and curious.

“This thing between us—it’s not just casual for me.” I paused, choosing my words carefully. “And I think you feel that too. But if this is going anywhere, you deserve to know the whole me.”

He shifted slightly. “What does that mean?”

“I’m into a lifestyle. A dynamic.” I kept my voice soft, steady. “A Daddy/boy relationship. It’s not role-play or a game for me. It’s a connection. I like being a caretaker. I like?—”

His face changed so quickly it was like a door slamming shut.

“No.” He moved to get off my lap, his movements stiff. “You don’t need to explain. That’s not me. That’s not... I don’t do that.”

“Nicky—”

“I don’t need to hear the details.” He crossed the room, grabbing his boxers from the floor. “You’re saying this is a dealbreaker, right? That you need this?”

I stood, keeping my distance. “It’s part of who I am. But it doesn’t change how I feel about you. I’m not asking you to jump into anything.”

“Yeah, you kind of are.” He pulled on his boxers, his back to me. His voice cracked slightly, though he covered it with a bitter laugh. “You think I didn’t hear you almost call me your boy earlier? That’s not happening. I’m not... that.”

My stomach dropped. This was exactly why I’d needed to tell him, why I couldn’t let this part of me stay hidden. I’d been so damn careful, or so I thought, but even with all the effort, I’d slipped. The word had been right there on the tip of my tongue, unbidden. It wasn’t fair to him—to us—for me to pretend I could compartmentalize something so integral to who I was.

“Nicky, look at me.” I stayed rooted, not wanting to corner him.

He hesitated but didn’t turn around.

“I need to apologize,” I said, my voice steady despite the ache in my chest. “I never should’ve let that slip. That was on me, and I’m sorry if it hurt you or made you feel like I was trying to mold you into something you’re not." I inhaled a breath and then released it slowly. “That wasn’t my intention. I’d never want you to be anything other than who you are.”

His shoulders were stiff, his silence unnerving, but I pressed on.

“This is part of who I am,” I said softly. “It’s like... Imagine you’re a musician, and music is how you express yourself, how you make sense of the world. You could try to live without it, but you’d always feel like some… part of you was missing. That’s what this is for me. It’s not controlling or trying to fit you into some role—it’s how I connect, how I love. And I can’t turn that off.”

He glanced over his shoulder, his expression unreadable.

“I don’t expect you to be someone you’re not,” I continued. “But I can’t pretend to be someone I’m not either. If there’s a chance for us, I have to be honest about this, even if it’s messy and scary.”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “I don’t want to lose you, Nicky. But I also don’t want to build something with you that isn’t real. I just?—”

“Just what? Want to fix me? Want to take over my life like you think I need saving?” He whirled around, his arms crossed over his chest. “It doesn’t matter. You need this. I can’t give it to you. End of story.”

I took a step closer, lowering my voice. “You think I don’t see how much care you give to everyone else? How you never let anyone take care of you? I’m not trying to fix you; I just want to give you something I think you deserve.”

His jaw clenched, eyes flicking to the floor. “I don’t deserve anything. And I don’t need you, Markus.”

It was like a punch to the gut, but I didn’t believe him. Not entirely.

“You’re scared. That’s fine. But don’t pretend you’re not hurting, Nicky. You’re not as good at hiding it as you think.”

He grabbed his jeans, pulling them on in jerky movements. “You think you’ve got me all figured out? After one night? Spare me the psychoanalysis.”

I stepped back, my chest tightening. “If this is really what you want—to end this—then fine. But don’t walk away thinking I don’t care. Or that I didn’t want this to work.”

He froze, one hand gripping his shirt. For a moment, I thought he might say something. Anything. But he just pulled it on and buttoned it with jerky movements. I followed him as he strode out of the bedroom, making sure to give him his physical space.

He grabbed his coat without giving me a second look. When the door clicked shut behind him, the silence was deafening.

I sank onto the couch, burying my face in my hands. The smell of him lingered on my skin, on the cushions. The emptiness he left behind was unbearable.

I knew it was over and right now I felt like I’d just lost the best thing that had ever happened to me.