11. Seb

11

Seb

Somehow, I’ve stumbled into a surreal fantasy world where I’m regularly hooking up with the most gorgeous and charming guy on the planet.

It’s like being bitten by a radioactive spider and gaining superpowers or being chosen as the next contestant on The Bachelor: Alternate Universe Edition .

At the start, I could remember the details of every encounter with Marcus.

There was the time we fooled around in Marcus’s shower, and the sight of water cascading down Marcus’s incredible body made my mouth hang open, which turned out to be not a great thing around running water. Then there was the time Marcus took charge, pinning me down while he took his time to explore every sensitive spot I didn’t know I had, which also led to the discovery of a multitude of noises I hadn’t realized I was capable of making. Then there was the time we decided to experiment with ice cubes, but I somehow managed to drop the entire tray on Marcus’s body. Luckily, he’d found the incident funny rather than accusing me of attempting grievous bodily harm.

The thing is, it’s not just his gorgeous looks and charm and the incredible sex that have me entranced.

It’s the glimpses I get of another version of Marcus. One less cocky, more…thoughtful. And definitely more caring than I expected.

Then there was the time I fell asleep by accident and Marcus didn’t wake me up. Since then, sleeping over has turned into a regular thing.

Now, after we have sex, he’ll pull me close and put on an episode of Red Dwarf as I lie with my head on his chest, his fingers drawing circles on my skin.

Marcus doesn’t seem as interested in the show’s plotlines as I am. I’ll often look up to find him watching me instead of the TV, with an impossible-to-read expression on his face.

I’m trying to tell myself that sleeping over doesn’t mean anything, that it’s simply convenience so we can have round two in the morning.

But honestly? There’s nothing I like more than waking up in Marcus’s arms, his warm breath on the back of my neck.

Tonight, though, it’s still dark when I wake up.

Marcus is holding me like normal, but he’s twitching in his sleep, his breathing rapid and shallow. He lets out a strangled cry, his body jerking violently.

I turn to face him. Sweat beads on his forehead as he mumbles incomprehensibly.

His body goes rigid, and he lets out a deep sob. It’s filled with so much anguish I can’t bear it.

I turn on the bedside light.

“Marcus.”

With a gasp, Marcus’s eyes fly open. His gaze is wild and unfocused.

Then his eyes lock onto mine and recognition slowly seeps back into them.

“Are you okay?”

Tears clump his eyelashes.

“Just a nightmare,” he says hoarsely.

I move closer to touch him, and he buries his face in the crook of my neck. I run my hand tentatively down his back.

“What was your dream about?” I ask softly.

“It’s nothing. I always have nightmares.” He lets out a shuddering breath. Against my neck, his skin is clammy, his shoulders rigid.

He pulls back slightly, running a hand over his face. “Can you tell me some biology facts to help me sleep?”

“Should I be offended that my biology facts put you to sleep?” I ask.

His mouth turns up at the corners. “I just want my brain to think about other things. I just want to forget.”

And so Marcus snuggles next to me as I tell him about how some species of jellyfish are considered biologically immortal. The Turritopsis dohrnii can revert to its juvenile stage after reaching maturity, potentially living forever if it avoids predators.

Marcus’s eyes flutter shut and his breathing starts to even out as I tell him how octopuses have three hearts and their blue blood is based around copper and is more efficient at transporting oxygen in cold environments than our iron-based blood.

I let my voice trail off and he doesn’t stir. He looks peaceful now, the furrow between his brows smoothed out. The dim light turns him into something almost ethereal, his dark lashes casting shadows on his cheeks.

I stare at this beautiful man, the most beautiful person I’ve ever met.

But his beauty is only the top layer. And I’m continuing to learn exactly how much more there is to Marcus than who he pretends to be.

The next morning, I wake to find Marcus facing me, our legs tangled together, his hand resting on my hip. When I open my eyes, he’s watching me with an expression I’ve never seen before.

Fear pulses through me. Was last night too much? Has he decided he doesn’t want me to sleep over anymore?

“Hey,” I say.

“Hey, you.” Marcus’s voice is still raspy from sleep.

“Did you sleep okay?” I ask hesitantly.

“Yes.”

“No more bad dreams?”

His expression is inscrutable. “No.”

He leans forward to kiss me then. Something about how Marcus’s lips meet mine feels like a circuit completing. His hand moves up to the dip of my waist, fingers splaying wide as if trying to touch as much of me as possible. In return, I trace the ridge of his collarbone. It’s incredible how familiar his body is becoming to me.

When we pull back from our kiss, Marcus’s eyes don’t hold their usual spark of mischief. Instead, he watches me intently, like nothing else matters but touching me.

I brush my thumb along the curve of his jaw, feeling the slight roughness of his morning stubble. He closes his eyes, leaning into my touch with a soft exhale.

Our hands continue gently wandering. Marcus traces the curve of my shoulder blade, his touch as light as a whisper, while I map the contours of his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath my palm. I run my hand down his arm, marveling at the contrast between the softness of his skin and the firmness of his muscles underneath. Biceps, triceps, brachioradialis . I’m pretty sure anatomy has never been as sexy as it is when it’s Marcus’s muscles I’m labeling.

Our lips find each other, our kisses languid.

I skim my hands along his hipbones, and a shiver runs through his body. His breath catches, and he pulls me flush against him, eliminating any remaining space between us.

Our cocks grind against each other as we continue to kiss and kiss.

Finally, finally, Marcus puts a hand between us and strokes our cocks together.

Holy mother of Batman, I’m pretty sure I’m experiencing what it feels like to be struck by lightning, except instead of being reduced to ash, I’m dissolving into pure bliss. My body arches against his as the pleasure builds and builds until I’m trembling, completely at his mercy. The world narrows to just his hand, his mouth, the electric current running between us.

I pant into his mouth as I come so hard that I’m fairly sure my brain has been launched to Neptune.

Marcus’s eyes are hooded with lust as he pulls back, scanning me.

Wordlessly, he uses my cum as lube and continues to stroke himself while I just ogle him, my brain refusing to do anything but watch as the most gorgeous man in the world sends himself over the edge.

He paints his perfect stomach and chest, and I almost forget how to breathe.

I’m fairly sure that is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.

Marcus moves forward to kiss me again, mixing our stickiness together.

“Good morning,” he says when he pulls back.

“It is a very good morning,” I reply, and I feel the puff of air on me from his laughter.

The blissful aftermath of amazing morning sex carries me through my day spent studying in the library for my last exam.

I’m cutting across campus, heading toward the student union, when I hear my name being called.

“Seb.” It’s Saskia’s voice.

I turn.

Saskia is sprawled on the grassy bank of the Leith River, using her backpack as a pillow, her golden hair fanned out around her. Next to her, Marcus lounges with the effortless grace of a Greek statue come to life while their friend—I think her name is Emily—sits cross-legged with a textbook on her lap. The trio forms a tableau that screams carefree university life so perfectly that it could be a stock photo for the University of Otago brochure.

I move closer to them.

“Hey, Little Kleggs. Long time no see,” Marcus says in a lazy drawl.

For a second, I’m almost breathless with the unfairness of this moment. The last time I saw Marcus, I was kissing him goodbye after the most intimate encounters of my life.

And now he’s acting like he barely knows me.

The hurt I’m feeling must flash across my face because his easy smile falters.

I swallow the lump in my throat before I reply. “Hi, Marcus.”

Luckily, Saskia seems focused on her big-sister role and hasn’t picked up on the awkwardness between her best friend and me.

“How is your studying going?” she asks.

“It’s going okay.”

“Are you practicing old exam papers? Because that is the most effective form of revision.”

I shift my bag on my back, which is weighed down by all my textbooks.

“Yes, I’m looking at old exam papers.” I look from Saskia to Marcus. “How are your exams going?”

Marcus stretches out lazily on the grass. “You mean those pesky things that interrupt our sunbathing times?”

Saskia giggles. “That’s such a Marcus philosophy.”

“I’ll have you know I’ve got a foolproof study method. I sleep with my textbooks under my pillow and hope for knowledge to jump in my head by osmosis.”

“That explains so much about your academic performance,” Saskia says.

Marcus yawns. “Cs get degrees. Besides, I’m pretty sure when I’m in any job interviews, I’ll dazzle them with my wit and charm, and they won’t even bother looking at my academic record.”

“Only because they’ll all want to sleep with you,” Saskia replies.

“Well, someone’s got to keep the HR departments on their toes,” Marcus says.

I stand there awkwardly as Marcus and Saskia banter back and forth.

It’s the Saskia and Marcus show, as always. There’s never been any room for me.

Saskia finally decides to answer my question. “We’ve only got criminal left, which is in two days, so we’ll be doing some heavy cramming.”

Their friend chimes in, “I thought you two were going to Garett’s party tonight?”

“Yeah, we’ll probably make an appearance at some point,” Saskia says. “Gotta keep our adoring public happy. Especially as they’re going to be deprived of our presence coming up.”

“When are you guys jetting off?” Maybe Emily asks.

“A week from today,” Saskia says with satisfaction. “It’s going to be epic.”

My stomach hollows.

I haven’t talked to Marcus about his impending trip to America with Saskia, mainly because I’ve tried to avoid mentioning Saskia. They’re only going for two months, but given Marcus and I have been hooking up two to three times a week, it feels like an impending desert of celibacy.

Marcus’s gaze flicks to mine. He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing, before quickly averting his gaze.

I fumble with my bag strap. “Uh, I should…um…library. Study. You know.”

I step backward, misjudge the curb, and nearly topple over.

“I’ll see you at dinner on Wednesday,” Saskia says.

“Yeah…sure. See you then.”

The sound of their easy laughter follows me as I retreat.

I spend the rest of the day and the next stressing that running into Marcus and Saskia will make Marcus rethink the whole hookup thing we’ve got going on.

My brain keeps unhelpfully running through probability calculations about whether Marcus will contact me again.

Finally, by midday the next day, I can’t bear it anymore, so I text him.

Do you want some stress relief after all that exam studying?

Over the next few hours, I check my phone more than a lab rat hits the food lever in a Skinner box experiment.

Finally, finally, my phone beeps with a reply.

Sure thing. 7 tonight?

I almost break my phone in my eagerness to reply.

See you then.

When Marcus opens his door to me, I’m on him immediately, my relief that we’re still doing this translating into nipping teeth and fingers digging into flesh.

Marcus matches my intensity, and we don’t even make it to his bedroom. Instead, we end up having incredibly hot sex over the back of his couch. The relief I feel as Marcus sinks into me is impossible to describe. His fingers leave bruises on my hips that I’ll press tomorrow to remind myself this was real. When we finally collapse together, sweaty and satisfied, I feel like I can finally breathe properly.

The next week passes in a blur of study sessions and stolen moments together.

Marcus has his last exam. I have my last exam and then start immediately on preparation for my internship.

And we continue to hook up without discussing his impending departure on his trip with my sister.

But then it becomes Tuesday night, and I know from Saskia that she and Marcus are flying out late tomorrow.

Am I imagining something slightly desperate in the way Marcus kisses me and touches me and fucks me tonight? Or am I just seeing what I want to see?

Afterward, Marcus lounges back on his pillows, looking like a debauched god. I don’t think I’ll ever get over the fact that someone like Marcus exists in real life. You’d think he’d have a flaw somewhere, but having thoroughly examined every inch of this man, I can confirm there isn’t a scrap of his skin that isn’t perfect.

But I can’t ignore the elephant in the room anymore. It’s now more the size of a blue whale.

“Are you excited about your trip?” I ask.

He stretches lazily, and the sheet slips down his chest, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of his V-line. “Yeah. I mean, I guess. It’ll be cool to travel, see a different country, meet some new people.”

My brain gets stuck on the meet new people part. I’ve heard Saskia joke about how she and Marcus are going to take the guys of America by storm.

I blow out a breath.

Until now, I haven’t wanted to ask if he’s been hooking up with other people besides me. I haven’t wanted to know.

But the question swirls around in my mind constantly.

I remember what Saskia said in Queenstown about Marcus not doing repeats, but I’ve now got strong evidence Marcus doesn’t share every detail about his sex life with his best friend. So, who knows whether Marcus has a whole lot of other guys he regularly messes around with on the down-low.

My mouth opens, and before I can stop myself, the words pour out of me. “I went to the sexual health clinic the other day to get tested, and um…one of the things the nurse said to me is how the sexual history of my partners also impacts me, like I’m sleeping with any guys my sexual partner is sleeping with too. I mean, not that I’m actually sleeping with the guys you’re sleeping with, I mean, not literally…”

Oh god, I’m butchering this epically. Heat spreads through my cheeks, but I blunder on. “So, I was just wondering, like, if there are lots of other guys? I mean, not that I care or anything, I know you’ll have been careful, but…you know…I was just wondering.”

Marcus is suddenly more alert, sitting up straighter, pulling the sheet around himself. His gaze flicks to the door, and I wonder if he’s going to bolt. But we’re at his place, so his options to leave are limited.

He fidgets with the edge of the sheet, studying it for a while before he answers. “I haven’t been with any other guys since we first hooked up, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“What?” In my surprise, the word flies out of me. It’s as if someone just told me gravity isn’t real.

Marcus’s usual easy smile is nowhere to be seen. Instead, his brow furrows, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, before he speaks again. “I’ve been busy with exams, and this…this has been good, right?”

I’m lightheaded, my mind racing faster than a particle in a supercollider.

“Yes. This has been good,” I manage.

The smile spreading across Marcus’s face is not his usual cocky grin or practiced smirk, but something softer. It lights up his eyes, crinkling the corners in a way that makes my heart stutter.

I lean forward to kiss him, and we forget about talking for a while.

When I wake up the next morning, Marcus’s arm is draped over my waist, his breath tickling the back of my neck. I allow myself to bask in his warmth for a moment before the weight of reality drops onto me. In sixteen hours, Marcus will be on a plane to the States, and this—whatever this is between us—will be put on pause.

I’ve worked so hard to keep my expectations low, to remind myself that to Marcus, I’m just his best friend’s nerdy little brother, a convenient casual hookup arrangement.

But he told me last night I’m the only one he’s been hooking up with?

I feel like I’ve just discovered a new species— Marcus fidelitatis . I’m not entirely sure how to classify it within my existing taxonomy of our relationship.

My thoughts fly back over the last few months, viewing everything through a different lens. Marcus letting me take him down the peninsula, Marcus extending text conversation between us, Marcus watching my favorite TV show with me and letting me sleep over.

My brain stutters, barely having the audacity to think the next line.

Is there a chance Marcus could ever want more with me?

Yep, it’s surprising my brain doesn’t explode with the sheer improbability of that thought. It’s like a lab mouse suddenly wondering if it could pilot the space shuttle.

Marcus told me from the start that he isn’t a boyfriend type of guy. Yet the way he acts toward me, now viewed through the lens of exclusivity, definitely has boyfriend vibes.

But I’m not going to drop that idea on him right before he leaves to travel with my sister for two months.

Marcus seems subdued when he wakes up. We have sex, as usual, but there’s still an edge of desperation, like he’s trying to imprint this in his memory just as much as I am.

My imagination, which, now unleashed, is starting to run riot, interprets this as a sign he’s going to miss me too.

When I get to the door to leave, I stop and turn to him.

“I know you and Saskia are going to have fun in the States,” I say. I trail off because I have no idea how to finish that sentence. It’s not like Marcus needs my permission to hook up with other guys. “Saskia’s always said you two are going to make the guys of America wish they’d never heard of New Zealand.”

“Yes, that’s the plan,” Marcus says the words lightly, but a tightness around his eyes doesn’t match his tone.

“And I want you to have…fun,” I say through numb lips. “It’s the trip of a lifetime, right?”

He stares at me with an unreadable expression. “Yeah, it’s going to be the trip of a lifetime,” he echoes.

We just stand there, staring at each other.

Marcus blows out a breath, breaking eye contact.

“I’ll be home in a few months. We’ll catch up then, okay?” he says.

“Sure. I look forward to it.” I say the words formally, like I’m a seventy-year-old librarian arranging a meeting about overdue books.

But my brief foray into Grandpa territory doesn’t deter Marcus from stepping forward to kiss me.

It’s a gentle, sweet kiss. My knees go weak as his hand cups my cheek, his thumb stroking gently.

He pulls back slowly.

“You look after yourself,” he says.

My fingers fly to my lips as if I can rub in Marcus’s kiss, trapping the sensation for the long weeks ahead without him.

“You look after yourself too.”