9. Seb

9

Seb

“You didn’t even bother to ask me if I wanted a threesome,” are words I never thought would come out of my mouth, but it appears that’s exactly what I’ve just said.

Because tonight I’ve had to watch Marcus flirt with and kiss someone else, then I watched him speak on my behalf, like I can’t speak for myself.

And it’s my indignation that has driven me to his door tonight.

I’m determined to make him see me as a grownup, at least. Even if nothing else ever happens between us, I want him to at least see me as an adult capable of making my own decisions.

Marcus looks taken aback at my words. He steps back to let me into his room.

Once he closes the door behind us, he just stares at me for a few seconds before he raises an eyebrow. “Are you telling me you’d have been up for that?”

“If it meant I got to touch you again, then yes,” I answer honestly, but my words don’t have the desired effect on Marcus.

Instead, he flinches, running a hand through his hair. “Fuck…Seb…”

I take a step closer. “Yeah, I can totally get behind that idea. Or…have you behind me as we investigate that concept. Or under you, if that’s what you prefer. I’m actually open to all positions.”

Marcus breaks out into a reluctant smile. “Look at you, caning it with the innuendos.”

“I’m not a kid anymore.” Despite my words, my voice sounds indignant, like a child’s. I clear my throat, making sure I deepen it to the right octave before I continue, “I thought you’d realized that.”

His smile fades and he stares at me intently. “I do realize that.”

“So, what’s stopping you? Is it Saskia? Because that hasn’t stopped you the last two times.”

He clenches his eyes closed, his expression almost pained. Which seems so wrong on Marcus’s beautiful face.

“I’m not cut out to be someone’s boyfriend, Seb,” he whispers.

I step even closer to him, right into his personal space. “Who says I’m looking for a boyfriend?”

His eyes flutter open, and he looks at me almost sadly. “Seb, you’re the most boyfriend type of guy I’ve ever met.”

“I know you’re not interested in a relationship with me, and I’m fine with that,” I say.

Because, come on, I’m still pinching myself that there’s a version of reality where Marcus is prepared to hook up with me. I know I’m not the type of guy Marcus would ever consider being in a relationship with. I mean, I don’t want to even offer friends with benefits because that would imply Marcus sees me as a friend, which might be pushing it.

I meant what I said. I would pretty much do anything if it means I get to touch him again.

My want must show on my face, and Marcus’s eyes scan up and down before he lets out a frustrated growl and stands, pulling me to him, his lips claiming mine.

Oh holy Megazord of Power Rangers.

We’re dynamite, Marcus and me. We’re sodium in water. No, scrap that. We’re francium in water.

We’re fireworks, napalm, every explosive substance under the sun reacting simultaneously.

His fingers dig into my skin as he kisses me deeply.

I seem to have forgotten how to breathe, but who needs oxygen when you have Marcus’s lips on you?

Lips that seem determined to devour mine. The kiss defies all laws of thermodynamics, generating more heat and energy than should be possible.

When he pulls back, I’m a panting, quivering mess of need.

“Please, Marcus.”

He just stands there looking at me.

My face heats because having Marcus scrutinize me can’t be a good thing, right? This is the guy who could have anyone. The guy who could be hooking up with an extremely hot French guy now, a guy he’s hooked up with before, a guy I’m sure has far more tricks up his metaphorical sexual sleeve than I do.

But instead, Marcus is here with me.

Marcus runs a thumb down my cheekbone like he’s tracing my blush. “Look at you,” he whispers.

“Fuck me. Please.” I’m pretty much begging at this point. Because after an evening that was a roller coaster of emotions, I can’t believe we’re at the point where I get to touch him.

And I’m aware of how precarious this is, how it might be the last time Marcus agrees to hook up with me. It will be a tragedy bigger than the collapse of a neutron star if I don’t take the opportunity to get Marcus Johnson’s cock inside me.

“Please,” I say again.

In reply, he lowers his mouth to mine.

This is a different kind of kiss from Marcus. It’s gentle, almost sweet.

It causes my heart to thump even wilder, which I didn’t think was possible.

Our bodies align, our cocks grinding against each other through our trousers. I feel like I’m vibrating at a frequency that could open a portal to another dimension. Though the last thing I want to do is leave this reality.

Marcus is tugging at my clothes, and suddenly, it’s all about the clothes removal.

I manage to get Marcus’s shirt off, and he tugs off my shirt and pants, but peeling off Marcus’s tight jeans is like a snake shedding its skin. I’m torn between fascination and frustration, my fingers working to free him from the denim prison.

“I think these qualify as a new form of contraception,” I grumble, finally yanking them off with a triumphant flourish.

Marcus chuckles, and the sight of him laughing almost causes my heart to stop.

Because this man is so breathtakingly beautiful.

And he’s standing here, the large bulge in his boxers indicating how into this he is, his eyes dark with a hunger that makes me feel like the last slice of pizza at three a.m.

I don’t even care when Marcus reaches down to our discarded clothes and produces a packet of lube and a condom from his jacket pocket. Items he probably put there tonight with thoughts of Louis. Because he’s slicking up his fingers to touch me.

Me!

And then Marcus is pushing me onto the bed, pulling off my boxers.

It should be embarrassing, exposing myself like this, but instead, it’s just all kinds of hot. Because Marcus Johnson is staring at me like there’s nowhere else he’d prefer to be.

And he’s different from what I expected. I expected the same cocky charm that he spreads through the rest of his life.

But instead, he seems to be taking this seriously. There’s a small furrow between his brows and he’s looking at me like nothing is more important than prepping me carefully. His gentle ministrations make me feel like a delicate piece of tech he’s trying not to short-circuit.

Little does he know my system crashed the moment he touched me.

My skin is hypersensitive, reacting to even the slightest touch like it’s discovering sensation for the first time.

I’m making needy noises, almost crooning, as he works one finger inside of me, then two.

“God, Seb, you’re so…responsive,” he says, leaning forward to claim my lips again.

We kiss, and he hooks his finger, brushing against the spot inside me that sends fireworks exploding behind my eyelids.

“Oh there, yes, oh my god.” It feels like my eyes are rolling so far back in my head I’m doing an inventory of my brain.

Shit. This is feeling too good. I don’t want it all to be over before I even get a chance to have Marcus’s cock inside me.

“I’m ready,” I say, barely able to form coherent words through my haze of desire.

Marcus is watching me with dark eyes. “So, how do you want to do this?”

How do I want this? I want this in every way possible. I want to experience every position known to man and maybe invent a few new ones.

Luckily, I manage not to say that.

“Ah…hands and knees,” I say as I scramble into position.

I’m dizzy with need, and the only thing keeping me grounded is Marcus’s grip on my hips. His touch is both gentle and possessive, making my breath catch.

He presses slowly inside me.

Oh holy Batman, Marcus Johnson is inside me. How is this possible?

I focus on the sensations, trying to commit this to memory because I want to remember every single detail of how it feels to have Marcus inside me.

It’s an overwhelming fullness, a delicious stretch that makes me feel like I’m being recalibrated on a molecular level. Every nerve ending fires at once, sending shivers of pleasure rippling through my body.

“You doing okay?”

“Never better,” I grind out.

It’s almost too much, the intensity bordering on overwhelming. But then Marcus pauses, letting me adjust, and suddenly it’s not enough. Suddenly, I need him more and I’m pushing back against him.

He moves farther inside me, bottoming out. He pauses to let me adjust and the feeling of completeness overtakes me. It’s like two elements fusing into something entirely new.

Then Marcus starts to move, and all scientific metaphors flee my mind. This is pure sensation, raw and primal. Each thrust sends sparks of pleasure coursing through me. I push back against him, desperate for more, for everything he can give me.

The room is full of our pants and gasps.

“God, Seb,” Marcus groans, his voice rough with desire. The sound of my name on his lips in that tone is almost enough to undo me. I clench around him involuntarily, drawing a sharp gasp from both of us. It’s a feedback loop of pleasure, each reaction spurring the other on.

When he leans forward, pressing his chest to my back, I’m surrounded by him, consumed by him. It’s overwhelming in the best possible way.

The angle changes, and suddenly, he’s hitting my prostate with every thrust. I cry out, my arms trembling as they struggle to support me. Marcus wraps an arm around my chest, holding me up, keeping me close.

His hand wraps around my cock.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs in my ear, and I believe him. In this moment, I’ll believe anything he tells me. The dual sensation of him inside me and his hand now wrapped around my cock is almost too much. I’m teetering on the edge, every nerve ending alight with pleasure.

Marcus moans again and his teeth graze the back of my neck, and I’m coming like I never have before, all over the duvet. My orgasm erupts like a supernova, scattering stardust across my vision.

I’m immediately sensitive afterward, but Marcus only lasts another few thrusts before he buries himself deep within me and I feel his cock pulsing as he comes with a guttural cry.

Oh my god. I slump forward onto the duvet, my chest heaving.

I wince when Marcus gently pulls out, but I remain sprawled on my front, unable to move.

Is this what it feels like to have your brains fucked out? If it is, I’m willing to volunteer as tribute again and again. Who needs a mind when you can have sex like that?

Marcus lifts his weight off me, and I’m suddenly bereft of his warmth.

And then my mind is switched back on, whirling like a particle accelerator smashing together atoms of insecurity and ecstasy.

I thought that was incredible, but was it good for him?

If it was good for me, surely it must have been good for him. Do the laws of sex work like that?

Suddenly, I realize Marcus is climbing back onto the bed.

“Here,” he says gently. And I realize that’s where he disappeared to. The en suite bathroom, to get me a damp cloth.

“Ah…thanks.” I take it off him and awkwardly clean myself up before flopping back down on the bed.

I knew sex with Marcus would be spectacular, but I didn’t expect this level of aftercare.

Marcus pulls the blanket over us, cocooning us in warmth. As we lie there, our shoulders touching and our breathing slowly synchronizing, part of my brain can’t help but analyze what just happened.

“Um…so like…that was incredible,” I say, turning my head on the pillow to look at him.

It appears Marcus has fucked all traces of playing it cool from me. Not that I had much in there to start.

“Yeah, it was.” Marcus says the words like it’s a profound declaration.

I decide to see how far I can push this. “I’m a data guy. And the data seems to tell me we’re definitely sexually compatible. Or actually, we’re sexually combustible.”

Marcus smiles at my words.

“I mean, to be fair, I don’t have a large sample size to measure it against,” I admit.

His smile fades and he rubs his hand over his face. “Please tell me I’m not the first guy you’ve messed around with.”

“No, you’re not my first.”

He drops his hand away. “Oh, thank god for that.”

I watch him, this beautiful man. How is it possible that humanity, with all of its flaws, could produce a face as perfect as Marcus’s?

I try to bring my thoughts back to our conversation. Otherwise, I might accidentally let those words escape my mouth.

“I had a boyfriend last year. And we messed around. But it definitely wasn’t anything like that.”

“I aim to please,” he says.

“What about you? How old were you when you lost your virginity?” I ask.

Marcus looks at me for a moment before he answers. “I was sixteen.”

“Who with, a classmate?”

He snorts. “No. A friend of my dad’s.”

“What?” I half-sit so I can stare at him fully. “Are you kidding me?”

“Nope.”

“How old was he?”

Marcus shrugs. “I don’t know. Late thirties, maybe?”

“What the everlasting hell?”

“It was consensual. I was a horny teenager and flirted outrageously with him. Eventually, he decided to take up what I was offering.”

“It’s predatory. I don’t care if the age of consent in New Zealand is sixteen. A guy in his thirties shouldn’t be with a teenager.” There’s outrage in my voice.

Marcus just stares at me.

“I like the world you live in, Seb. I want to live there someday,” he says softly.

I lie back down, settling next to Marcus, still reeling from the idea of sixteen-year-old Marcus being seduced by such an older guy.

Where were his parents to protect him? Couldn’t they see what was happening right under their nose?

I can’t imagine a scenario where one of my parents’ friends would have had a chance to seduce Saskia or me.

He’s right. It does feel like we come from different worlds.

But right now, I’m most concerned with trying to live in a world where we get to do that again.

“Like…I don’t have much experience, and I want to get more. And I’d prefer to learn with you than with anyone else.” I cough awkwardly. “If you’re up for that.”

Marcus stares at me, those deep, beautiful eyes searching my face as if looking for answers to questions I don’t even know. I feel exposed, vulnerable, but I force myself to meet his eyes.

“Anything we do has to be on the complete down-low,” he says finally.

The relief shooting through me would have collapsed my legs if I wasn’t already lying down. “Of course.”

Personally, I want to tell the world I’m hooking up with Marcus Johnson. I’d take out a full-page ad in the Otago Daily Times . I’d get a tattoo listing every date and time we’ve hooked up—along with the activities we engaged in because I wouldn’t mind those permanently embedded in my skin.

But I understand it’s not the same for Marcus, that hooking up with me isn’t exactly reputation enhancing.

And there’s the whole Saskia factor. I’ve been Saskia’s brother for eighteen years now, and there’s one fact about my sister I learned very quickly and had reinforced many times over the years.

Saskia does not like to share her toys.

She’d definitely lose the plot if she found out about Marcus and me.

And I know my sister well enough to know how clever she is, that she’d disguise her anger by pretending concern and would guilt Marcus into believing that unless he was planning to give me a promise ring, he shouldn’t hook up with me. She’d manipulate the situation to make it look like she was being a good big sister while ensuring Marcus never touched me again.

I’m not going to let that happen.

“We don’t have to tell anyone,” I add.