4. Marcus

4

Marcus

Fucking hell.

I didn’t expect this.

I’d expected Seb to kiss me tentatively, for the whole thing to be about me coaxing a shy guy into having a bit of fun.

And it had started out that way, but now it’s changed.

He’s kissing me with such intensity that it’s overridden all parts of my brain.

My desire surges to match his, and we become a sloppy mess of tongues and mouths.

I’ve never had a kiss like it. It’s so much hotter than any kiss I’ve ever had before.

I find myself pulling back to stare at him because, apparently, I need to check that it’s definitely Little Kleggs. The same guy who can barely say two words in front of me.

“Holy fuck, Seb,” I say.

His blush descends down his neck, and suddenly, nothing matters more than seeing how far that color travels down his body.

I’m kissing him again while I tug at the bottom of his T-shirt. Seb fumbles in his haste to help me pull it off but eventually gets it over his head.

He’s lean but not too skinny, and the flush descends to the top of his chest, turning his milky skin a light pink.

I groan at the sight, and then I latch onto his neck, licking and sucking my way down to his collarbone, cataloging all his noises. Because the sound of Seb whimpering has to be one of the sexiest things I’ve ever heard.

Then his mouth finds mine again and kissing desperately, frantically, we stumble toward the bed, crashing onto his Star Wars duvet.

Seb’s hand slips under my T-shirt and strokes my skin, setting off fireworks everywhere he touches.

I don’t want to stop kissing him to take off my shirt, but the thought of feeling his bare skin against mine is too tantalizing to ignore. I break the kiss and sit up enough to quickly pull my shirt over my head.

I shuck off my jeans with practiced ease, my eyes never leaving Seb’s face.

Seb watches me with eyes blazing with lust. Fuck, the way he’s looking at me right now. I’m used to guys looking at me with desire, but never quite like this. Never with the same level of desperation and focus, like nothing else in the world matters but me.

I lie back down and reach out to pull him to me. Seb comes willingly, gliding his hands up my back, arching into me with a soft groan, and I kiss him again.

It’s even better than before.

How can kissing be so hot? I’m used to kissing being the warm-up, the bit you get through before the real fun.

Some of the guys I’ve hooked up with don’t even bother kissing at all. It’s been straight into the heavy stuff.

But this…this is different. This is tongues frantically trying to meld together. This is teeth grazing lips, our breath mingling, chests heaving against each other.

I finally force myself to break our amazing kiss to trail my lips down his jaw and neck. I kiss the hollow of his throat and then farther down to his chest, where I suck and lick a nipple, making him gasp.

I slide my hands down his chest and unbutton his jeans, easing them down his legs.

Seb lifts his hips to help me pull his jeans off, then his boxers. His cock springs up, hard and flushed, bobbing against his stomach. A feral craving comes over me, and I have to have his cock in my mouth.

“So, I’m thinking we should keep with the lick, swallow, suck routine, but I might have to mix up the order,” I say, and Seb makes a noise somewhere between a breathless laugh and a groan.

I move down his body, then lean forward to take the tip of his cock into my mouth and tease his slit with my tongue, tasting the salty precum there.

Seb moans, and I use that as my encouragement to slide my lips down his cock. I lick along the underside before pulling back to suck the head again.

Seb’s hands are in my hair, holding my head in place, his fingers tugging gently.

I suck his cock harder, triumph surging through me when I feel the desperate rhythm of his breathing and the building tension in his thigh muscles.

Then he tugs harder at my hair, and I suddenly realize he’s pulling me off him.

What the hell?

Wiping a hand across my mouth, I glance up and find Seb looking at me with blown-out pupils and lips still messy from all our kissing.

He must see the question on my face because he answers it.

“I want to kiss you again.”

I blink at him.

Most guys I’m with are simply chasing their own orgasms, and I’ve never had one pull me off giving them head so they could kiss me.

But I’m happy to oblige him.

I shimmy out of my underwear, kicking them off to join the scattered clothes on the floor. Then I crawl up Seb’s body until I’m lying on top of him. He’s sprawled beneath me looking utterly debauched, his lips bee-sting red, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

For a few seconds, we just observe each other.

Then Seb surges up to claim my mouth. I moan into the kiss because, suddenly, kissing is everything.

Seb kisses me like I’m the meaning of the universe and I get the feeling I’m kissing him back the same way.

We continue to kiss, grinding against each other, his cock leaving a trail of wetness on my skin. The slide of skin on skin is amazing. Our hands roam relentlessly, fingers digging into flesh.

Oh, holy fuck. It’s good. I don’t think I’ve ever been so turned on just from kissing and grinding.

But still, I want more.

I roll onto my side, pulling him with me so we’re pressed against each other.

I wrap one hand around both our cocks, our combined precum providing enough natural lube, and start to jerk us. The sensation of his cock sliding against mine sends electric shocks up my spine.

Seb’s breath hitches as I swipe my thumb over our sensitive heads. He watches our cocks sliding through my grip with wide eyes, awe on his face.

And it’s that look that has me leaning forward to claim his mouth yet again.

Fuck. The dual sensations of having Seb’s tongue in my mouth and his cock sliding against mine causes my orgasm to boil up inside me.

I wrench my lips away from Seb’s. “Oh holy fuck,” I gasp as it overtakes me. It starts as a tightening in my balls, then explodes outward in waves of pleasure. My muscles tense and release in rapid succession, my hips jerking uncontrollably.

It feels like every cell in my body is exploding with pleasure simultaneously.

A warm splatter of cum hits my stomach and chest, each pulse sending another jolt through my body.

Seb’s dark gaze studies me intently like nothing is more important than watching pleasure overtake my face.

It’s intimate in a way I’ve never had before.

I’m so dazed from my orgasm that I’m only half aware Seb is using my cum to continue to stroke himself, his hand moving in a blur over his flushed cock, his eyes locked on me.

His forehead furrows as he starts to come, his eyes half-lidded as a deep flush spreads from his cheeks to his chest.

I’m transfixed by the way his eyelashes flutter against his cheeks, the way his lips part on a breathless moan.

And I can’t help leaning forward to kiss him again.

It’s a slow, languid kiss.

Post-sex cuddling is not something I normally indulge in, but when I finally pull away from his lips, I wrap an arm around Seb, unable to resist the warmth of his body against mine.

Seb comes willingly, tucking his head under my chin, his curls tickling my skin.

I hold him against me, feeling his breathing even out. His body grows heavier against mine, his usual awkward energy melting away until he’s nothing but soft breaths and warm skin.

Sleep and I are not always friends, but after such an intense orgasm, I feel it reaching up to claim me. It pulls me into its clutches, and I fall asleep holding my best friend’s little brother.

There’s a ticking sound in my head when I wake the next morning. My mouth is like sandpaper. My stomach churns.

Fuck. There’s nothing worse than a hangover.

Although, apparently, there is something worse.

Because when I turn my head and see Seb lying next to me, it’s immediately apparent how badly I’ve fucked up.

His dark curls spill over his Yoda pillowcase. He looks young. Innocent.

Pure.

Suddenly, the ticking turns a whole lot more ominous. Like it’s counting down the seconds I have left to live.

Although Saskia is often irritated by Seb, she’s also fiercely protective of her younger brother. When she finds out I fooled around with him, she’ll turn my balls into decorative earrings. Or my scrotum into some kind of pouch like they do with kangaroos in Australia. Either way, I’m fairly sure my genitalia won’t be left intact.

Which I probably deserve.

It’s not even just the fact he’s her little brother.

I never hook up with innocent guys like him. I hook up with guys like me, guys who know the score.

And Little Kleggs is the worst kind of innocent.

He stirs while I continue to watch him like he’s the developing plot in a horror movie.

He opens his eyes. How have I never clocked how beautiful his eyes actually are? They’re not the same pure blue as Saskia’s. Instead, Seb’s have a hint of green, making them more distinct.

He blinks sleepily at me. “Hey.”

“I’m sorry.” The words slip out of me unprompted, uncensored.

Seb props himself up on an elbow, considering me momentarily before he clears his throat. “I’m not sure if an apology is what a guy wants to hear the morning after sex.”

It’s my turn to blink. It’s probably the most coherent sentence Seb has ever said to me.

Has having my tongue in his mouth cured him of his inability to speak properly around me?

“Sorry,” I say again.

A grin lights up his face. “Is that an apology for an apology?”

“Maybe.”

Seb shifts slightly, the sheet sliding down to reveal more of his chest.

His posture is relaxed, but his eyes are watchful. “Look, Marcus, I’m not an idiot. I get what this was. It was a one-night thing, yes? It doesn’t have to be weird.”

Somehow, he’s stolen the words I usually say and turned them around.

“Okay, I’ve never had a not-weird ending to a one-night stand, but let’s aim for that,” I say. “This is me not at all weirdly climbing naked out of my best friend’s brother’s bed. And this is me not at all weirdly trying to locate my underwear on the floor…”

Seb laughs, and I feel a weird twinge of pride. I’ve flirted and teased him for so many years, but I don’t think I’ve ever made him genuinely laugh.

But my happiness is short-lived, replaced by fear that thuds in my stomach.

“Saskia can’t find out about this,” I say.

A shadow crosses Seb’s face. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell her.”

“Thanks.”

“I don’t usually make a habit of sharing my sex life with my sister,” he says, and seeing a glimpse of dry humor from him catches me off guard.

“So…um…” The smoothness I usually coast through life with abandons me when I stare down at Seb in bed.

His hair is tousled, including one tuft at the back, which sticks straight up like a tiny mohawk, defying gravity.

For one crazy, insane moment, I want to climb back into bed. I want to cuddle him, touch his warm skin, see if I can make him blush again. I want to mess up his hair even further.

The feeling is disorientating because I never want to hang around the morning after. Quick getaways are usually my specialty.

“Last night was…fun,” I settle on finally.

“It was fun,” he says solemnly.

It’s the seriousness in his voice that gets me. It’s so…Seb.

And it triggers me to do something I’ve never done with a one-night stand. I cross the distance back to the bed to place a kiss on his lips.

His lips are warm and dry, and I linger in the kiss for an extra heartbeat before pulling back.

Seb’s eyes are wide, his pupils blown. His fingers fly to his lips like he’s trying to imprint the kiss there. For a few seconds, we just stare at each other.

Enough sentiment.

I summon my trademark cocky smirk and flash him a wink.

“I’ll see you around,” I say as I slip through the door.

Luckily, the landing is deserted, and I sneak down the stairs.

Saskia was so drunk last night. I’m sure she’s sleeping it off, but I don’t want to run into any of my other friends who may have crashed here and have to make up some bullshit about where I disappeared to last night or why I’m still at Saskia’s house this morning.

I breathe a sigh of relief when I make it through the house and softly close the front door behind me.

The streets of North Dunedin are empty this early on a Saturday morning, apart from a few other early-morning stragglers who, like me, woke up in the wrong bed.

It’s a good twenty minutes of brisk walking down the hill to my flat.

Unlike most other students, I live alone. The idea of sharing my space with anyone makes me antsy, so I stretch the money my father gives me to rent my own place. It means my flat is dingy and would probably fail most health-code inspections, but at least it’s mine.

I strip off my clothes and jump in the shower.

Once there, I can’t help but replay last night, which was far, far hotter than I’d expected.

My cock hardens just thinking about it.

Little Kleggs. Who would have thought he had it in him?

But I can’t jerk off to thoughts of him because that would be wrong.

Instead, I force myself to think about Saskia and what happened between us last night.

I tried to leave my past behind me when I left Wellington to come down to Dunedin for boarding school. I even changed my last name to my mother’s maiden name to prevent classmates from googling me and stumbling across old news articles. I didn’t want sympathy. I didn’t want pity.

All I wanted was a fresh start.

But a few months ago, Saskia and I had been drinking together up on Signal Hill, and she’d opened up to me about her struggle with an eating disorder when she was fourteen. And somehow, in the dim light and the hazy warmth of too much cheap wine, I’d been seduced into the idea that I could share some of my own secrets with my best friend. I’d confided in her about my mother’s mental health issues that led to her death.

I’d trusted her to keep it a secret.

It just proves you can never trust anyone. No one will ever fully have your back.

It appears to be a lesson I have to learn and relearn.

When I get out of the shower, I find my phone has been bombed by texts from Saskia.

Where did you disappear to?

Look, Marcus, I’m so sorry about what I said last night. I was a bitch, okay? I’m really, really sorry.

Saskia doesn’t grovel much, but when she does, she does it well, like she does everything else.

I’ll make it up to you. My shout for pizza at Phillies? Or we could go out tonight and do the hair of the dog thing.

I need to tell you all about what Jasper said to me. You’re not going to believe it.

Fuck.

I run my hand through my wet hair.

I’ve got a wide circle of friends, but Saskia is the only one I’ve let get mildly close. The only one I rely on.

I don’t think she realizes how being around her, playing the part of Marcus-the-irresponsible-charming-rogue-Saskia’s-best-friend keeps me from the yawning chasm of darkness that looms inside me.

And now I’ve potentially screwed up my friendship with her by sleeping with her brother.

Seb said he wouldn’t tell her. I won’t tell her. She never needs to know.

But my stomach hollows even as I think that.

Because I come from a family that is good at keeping secrets.

And I’ve learned that nothing remains buried forever.