This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author's imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, business establishments or events is entirely coincidental. Comments and feedback are highly appreciated, send to mozlover21@gmail.com
A Note to the Readers: This is the end of Part 1. Part 2 will be up soon, and is an interesting departure from this story format, so please stick around to check it out and let me know what you think.
Raw
Chapter 8.
When we get out of the theatre it's already dark, but the weather is surprisingly warm, like it's summer time. The air is filled with a flowery smell. I realize that everything feels perfect because I'm really happy. My face is actually starting to hurt from smiling. Mark looks radiant as well. For once in my life my mind is just still, and at peace. I'm not thinking about anything, and it feels good. Just letting this warmth spread through my body like a drug. But I imagine no drug comes close to this natural high. If you could collect it and bottle it up you'd be a millionaire.
All of a sudden I feel a pair of strong arms wrap around me from behind. I smile even wider; Mark. I feel little butterfly kisses all along my neck. In between the kisses he says, "You are amazing." We slowly make our way back to the house where we both immediately pass out on the bed.
I'm dreaming. I know I'm dreaming, but it doesn't make everything that's happening to me any less terrifying. I'm in my own personal hell. Fear, fear, and disgust, and shame, and embarrassment all running through my body like electric currents. All making me limp and lifeless, yet tense. My body feels like a raw slab of meat. I wake up crying and panting, and right away I know that it happened. The worst thing I can think of. I pull the covers off of me. My pants are wet. I shudder with humiliation, as another sob makes it's way out of my throat. I feel Mark's arms wrap themselves around me.
"Hey, it's okay, everything's okay," he says. But it's not. Everything is fucked up. I keep crying. The humiliation eating me alive.
"Jeremy," Mark says soothingly, "hey, everything is fine. I'm here." But for some reason it doesn't work this time. The shame is too great. I continue crying hysterically. I can tell Mark doesn't know how to deal with this, but he does his best. He rubs my back soothingly and holds me.
"I'm sorry," I finally mumble.
"You have nothing to be sorry for," he replies gently and kisses my forehead. "I'll get you a pair of my sweats okay?" I nod.
"I'm sorry about the bed," I say looking down. Because I'm wearing jeans the damage isn't big, just a small wet patch on the sheet. I doubt it went through to the mattress. Still, the embarrassment is piercing.
"Jeremy, trust me, I don't care about the bed. All I care about is that you're okay," he says holding my face gently. I try to believe him, but can't. How can anyone be attracted to someone like me? Mark hands me a pair of his sweats and I go to the bathroom. I turn on the shower and quickly wash myself. Then I wash my wet boxers. My hands are still trembling like leafs. I go back into the room. Thankfully the light is off.
"Is the mattress ruined?" I ask.
"No, it's fine. It doesn't matter Jeremy, it's just pee, I honestly don't care." I never thought I would hear someone say that, I think to myself. I always envisioned the repulsed reaction anyone who this happened in front of would have. And Mark just seems unfazed. It's amazing. He pats the spot beside him. I lay down slowly, still embarrassed, my back turned to him. He puts his arms around me, and it feels like home.
"Who was it?" he asks. I bite my lip, surprised at the question. It's one thing to know that he's aware of what's going on, but it's another to have him ask me right out about it. I can't tell him. I can't describe all the shit that happened to me as a little boy. "I want to kill whoever it was," he adds after a while of silence. And this is exactly why I can't tell you Mark, I think to myself. He pulls me in closer, and I lean into him. Then slowly I turn around to face him, realizing that we need to talk about something.
"I just want you to know that we're not going to have sex," I say as all the blood drains from my face. He looks at me as if not understanding.
"Okay," he finally replies.
"Okay?" I ask surprised.
"Well, what do you mean?"
"I mean what I just said. That we won't have sex."
"Ever?" he asks sounding a little alarmed.
"I don't know, but definitely not for a long long time," I reply. He considers my answer.
"Okay, I can deal with that," he replies. I'm shocked.
"You can?" I ask in utter surprise. He looks at me thoughtfully.
"Yeah, that's fine. It's not that important to me."
"It's not?" I ask again shocked. Now he's regarding me curiously.
"Why are you so shocked? You think I can't control myself? Is this about what happened when I was younger? Because all of that is in the past, I swear. I can be celibate as long as you need me to," he says seriously. And this isn't the answer I expected at all. I just stare at him. Who are you Mark Norton?
"Jeremy?"
"A few weeks ago you seemed really upset when I couldn't stay the night at your place. That wasn't because you wanted to..you know, do it?" Mark looks shocked and appalled.
"No! Of course not Jeremy. I just wanted to be close to you. I like sleeping with you in my arms and being there in case you have a nightmare. I don't like the thought of you sleeping alone, that's all. I know you're not ready to have sex." I melt a little inside. How could I have been so accusatory of him. I realize that since we're already having a serious talk I should probably bring up something else that's been bothering me.
"Are you with me because I remind you of Luke?" I ask.
"No," Mark replies confused at my question.
"Are you sure," I ask, sensing a moment of hesitation in his voice.
"Jeremy, yes when I met you the thought that you looked a little bit like Luke ran through my mind. And it did seem like more than a coincidence. Like a strange sign. But then I got to know you, and you're nothing like Luke. I like you for you." He caresses my face gently, moves my hair away from my eyes and kisses my forehead.
"When you mentioned sex, did you say that because you're scared about our first time?" He asks gently. I blush at the word sex like a little kid. Slowly I nod. I am completely terrified of our first time, yes.
"Don't be. There's nothing to be scared of. I promise. I might suck at most things but this is an area I know a thing or two about. So you have nothing to worry about. It's not going to hurt, I swear," he says seriously. I realize that I'm scared of it because for someone my age I am absolutely clueless about sex. I mean what happened to me as a child is like a bad nightmare that I try to forget on daily basis. So I have no idea what normal relationship intimacy between two guys is supposed to be like. I decide that I probably need to do some research, so I don't look like a complete idiot when I do decide to do it.
"What if you won't like it?" I ask nervously biting my lip.
"Jeremy, how could I not like it? Just thinking about it makes my whole day. So there's nothing that could happen that would make me not like it. "
"Thinking about it makes your day?" I ask and giggle, somehow intrigued at the idea that Mark actually thinks about these things.
"Yeah, you think that's funny?" He asks in good humor.
"I just didn't think you actually ever thought about it," I say and he looks at me like I'm from another planet.
"Jeremy, I don't think you realize how attractive you are," he says after a while.
"So how often do you think about it?" I ask getting a fit of giggles. He shakes his head smiling.
"A lot. Why don't we just leave it at that."
"And what exactly do you think about?"
"You want all the details?" He asks.
"Just a few," I reply and he becomes serious again.
"I think about being on top of you," he says as he moves his body over mine and kisses me softly. As usual I forget how to breathe.
"I think about kissing you," he says in between kisses. His hand slowly moves from my side to my lower back. He moves me so that we're on our sides facing each other. His hand on my butt.
"I think about doing this a lot," he says as he squeezes my butt gently. I giggle.
"That's not so bad. I figured you had much dirtier thoughts," I say smiling.
"Well I only told you the very PG thoughts. I can't let you know the depths of my depravity just yet. I gotta make sure you won't leave me once you find out," he says seriously.
"I won't ever leave you," I reply even more seriously. He kisses me, and I feel his hand knead my butt again.
"That is a really nice butt," he repeats.
"Glad you like it," I reply laughing.
"So, you know, just so I have an idea of what you like," Mark starts saying a little self-consciously, and immediately scaring me because he is rarely self-conscious, "what kind of...uhmmm...you know, who do you enjoy watching...in, you know," he trails off waiting for me to catch on. But of course I don't. I raise my eyebrows at him. "What kind of...uhm, porn do you watch? Do you have a favorite guy?" he asks and immediately I turn bright red and am rendered speechless.
"Uhmm, I don't uhhh watch that kind of stuff," I reply and now it's his turn to be speechless.
"You don't?" he finally asks, very surprised. "Ever?"
"Ever," I reply. He nods his head slowly, as if trying to wrap his head around the idea. All of a sudden he smiles lightly.
"What?" I ask feeling awkward.
"Nothing, you're just so sweet," he replies making me blush as usual. I make a mental note to watch some X-rated movies when I get home. Suddenly I realize how cold the damn room is when I start shivering.
"Sorry the heater is broken," Mark says sheepishly and gets up. He goes over to a dresser and fishes out another pair of sweat pants. "These are warmer than the other ones I gave you," he says. I wiggle my way out of the other sweats in front of Mark and pull the new ones on. He watches me intently.
"See something you like?" I say using his line. He laughs.
"Yeah, actually I do," he says and I go bright red as Mark laughs even louder.
"So is it bothering you? You know the no sex thing?" I ask self consciously.
"What do you mean?" He asks.
"I mean, are you upset that we haven't done it yet?" I ask.
"No, of course I'm not upset. I'll wait as long as you need me to wait. For now kissing you is more than enough," he says and I smile.
"Really? You're not just saying that?"
"I swear." I look at him and I've got a crazy desire to just tell him how much I love him. But I figure he probably won't like that, so I just walk over and cuddle up to him on the bed. He kisses me softly. Just his lips on mine. And it's so gentle, and sweet, and perfect. And for a second my head stops spinning with thoughts and all I feel is happiness. Complete, pure happiness.
All of a sudden a question pops into my head.
"Did you ever..." I ask but can't finish. He nods his head, somehow knowing what I'm about to ask, checking for my reaction. My mouth pops open.
"With a girl?" He nods again. I shake my head.
"Why?"
"I already told you, it took me a long time to accept who I was. All I wanted was to fit in."
"So you slept with girls? How? Are you bisexual?"
"No, not really. I don't really enjoy sex with girls. But with some alcohol, and the lights off it was possible you know," he replies. God, will I ever not be shocked at the shit that happened in Mark's past?
We drive home the next day because my mom is still apprehensive at the idea of me spending so much alone time with Mark. When I get in the house she's in her favorite room, the kitchen. "Jeremy will you take Mrs. Taylor's little boy to his soccer game and babysit him for a few hours tomorrow? She's kind of in a money bind so I told her you would do it for free," my mom says, before I even get a word out, with an apologetic but hopeful facial expression.
"Well hello to you to," I answer putting my backpack down, "Why can't Kayla do it?" I ask.
"You know how your sister is. I can't trust a child's life in her hands," she says whisper like. I sigh, of course she's right. I wouldn't let Kayla watch a plant let alone a human being.
"But I was supposed to hang out with Mark tomorrow," I complain.
"Well just take him with you," she says matter-of-factly. I just give her a look. Obviously Mark'a going to say no to that, but I agree anyway, even though I'm completely inept with children. Deacon, Mrs. Taylor's son is a nice, quiet kid whose parents have been struggling financially for years now. When I was a kid Mr. Taylor got into a car accident which left him paralyzed and unable to work. This completely turned the family's life upside down. Mrs. Taylor had to get a job, and with little experience it was very hard for her to make ends meet. My mom babysat whenever she could.
Surprisingly when I tell Mark he doesn't really make a huge deal about it. I guess I forgot he used to train kids in soccer so it actually might not be as bad as I thought. We pick the little boy up and drive to the soccer field. Mark asks him some questions during the drive that make me smile. He really puts an effort into being nice to the boy, and I find it sweet. During the game, instead of sitting back on the sidelines, like me, Mark is right in the middle of the action, annoying the crap out of the coach with different suggestions.
"This guy is an idiot," Mark says coming up to me during break time. I realize he's referring to the poor coach he's been harassing all game long. Deacon runs up right after him.
"Good job buddy," Mark high fives Deacon while I give the kid a bottle of water. The boy smiles brightly. I realize his dad doesn't come to his games, and the thought makes me feel sad. I look around? all the other kids parents are here.
"Well maybe if you let him do his job," I reply trailing off.
"Well, maybe if he knew how to do his job I wouldn't have to do it for him," he says whispering irritably out of Deacon's range. I shake my head at him. The game continues for a while longer. Afterwards we go get some ice cream from the ice cream truck. Deacon stands around for a minute and finally Mark asks, "Which one do you want buddy?" The little boy points to a green one.
"You want the turtle one?" Mark asks, parental authority in his voice. I stifle my laughter. He is completely adorable around kids.
After we drop Deacon off at home, on our way back I start thinking about kids. "So how many kids do you think you'll have in the future?" I blurt out for some reason. Mark looks at me surprised.
"Uhhh I'm thinking none. Can you imagine how bad of a parent I would be?" He says and I'm shocked at his reply. Why does he think he would be a bad parent? He's obsessively nurturing, kind, giving, and a million other character traits that I think make a good parent.
"Why, do you want kids?" he asks and I sense a note of worry in his voice. I think about it. What kind of parent would I make.
"I don't know," I reply truthfully. Mark considers my answer for a while, but remains silent.
"I think you would make a good dad," I blurt out again. God why did I say that, I wonder silently. Mark watches me carefully. I can see that he's very uncomfortable with my statement. After he drops me off at home, I continue thinking about it.
That night for some reason I have a strange dream. I usually hate dreams, and wake up from them crying. But this one is warm, and pleasant, and very strange. I'm in a house. I can't really see it, but I know it's a house. I see Mark in the living room. He's reading through some papers. He looks older and even more handsome. I'm in the kitchen pouring someone a cup of orange juice. It's like I'm outside of my body, watching this whole scene unfold.
"There you go honey," I say turning to my left. I realize I'm talking to a little brown haired girl, sitting on the counter swinging her legs and playing with a bright pony toy. She takes the glass from me smiling brightly. I smile back at her feeling pride and joy. Then I see a little boy playing with a police truck. The car lights shining red and blue, making far too much noise.
"Not so loud Dex, you daddy is working," I say picking him and the car up and bringing them back to the kids room.
"Sorry," he says smiling up at me and I know I can't stay mad for long. Mark comes into the room behind me.
"Okay buddy, it's time to go to sleep," he says with far more authority than I could ever manage. I smile and then wake up. The dream leaves me puzzled and confused. What the hell am I thinking? I've never wanted kids before. I've never even cared about kids. I shake it off and try to forget about it as I slowly get up and get ready for school.
Classes go by painfully slow that day. I fidget my way through Science and English, filled with a tension I've never experienced before. Memories of my birthday night run through my mind, making it impossible to concentrate on the droning of my teachers. I'm completely mortified as I slowly realize that I'm having sexual fantasies about Mark. I think about his voice, I imagine his hands on me, I feel his breath on my neck. When we finally get out of school and get to his house I fight the urge to just throw myself at him. He turns on the stereo and turns back in surprise as I grab his hand and lead him back to the bed.
Florence and The Machine is playing softly in the background as me and Mark lay down on the bed and start kissing slowly. And finally I realize why I don't freak out anymore. At least not about kissing. Mark's kisses are full of warmth, and care. His kisses are gentle, yet strong. I feel his hand on my hip bone, apparently Mark has a thing for sides. Slowly he breaks the kiss. I frown and hold on to his shirt. He smiles.
"Slow, remember? We're going slow. And you're getting me too worked up," he says enticing my passion even further. I never knew I would be able to feel this way for anyone. To be attracted to someone physically, to not think of kissing as something absolutely repulsive, but something desirable.
I grab his face and pull him into me, kissing him over and over again. He finally gives in and I feel his whole body weight sink into me. I moan lightly and Mark gently bites my lip. Then suddenly he looks up and with a very serious face and a raw voice he says, "I love you." I smile, finally the words I've been needing to hear for so long. I grab his face again and kiss him more fiercely. He kisses me back but pulls away after a while. "Say it," he says slowly smiling. I smile back and playfully shake my head. Mark cocks his head to the right, and I giggle. He starts tickling me ferociously and I beg him to stop through stifled laughs.
"Okay, okay I love you, I love you," I say giggling and he stops his physical attack. I stare into his eyes more seriously now, "I love you," I say an gently kiss him. "I love you Mark," another kiss. "I love you so much." His tongue makes its way deep into my mouth and we continue kissing for what seems like forever. I forget all about my no sex rule. This is the time. I need him more than I've ever needed anyone or anything in my whole entire life.
He turns us so that I'm on top, and momentarily I'm very confused. But then I realize what he wants.
"I can't be on top when we do this," I state panicked.
"I know this isn't how you envisioned your first time, but trust me it's the best position. You'll be totally in control. I don't want to hurt you," he states gently. But I'm not convinced. Fear paralyzes me. I can't do this on top of him, feeling completely exposed. I get off and lay down on my side, embarrassed and discouraged. I'm a complete failure.
"Hey," he says gently from behind me. I shut down and don't respond. I feel the bed move as Mark gets up. Great, he's leaving, I think as I'm about to burst into tears. Then the lights turn off and he comes back to bed. He pulls the covers over us and draws me into his chest. He kisses my neck gently.
"Jeremy, you're so beautiful," he says. I never grow tired of hearing that. I smile a little. I turn my head slightly to look at him.
"So beautiful," he repeats staring into my eyes. I melt inside. We kiss, the kind of kiss that's not hurried, but lazy, and deep, and amazing. We kiss and I never want to stop kissing him. My desire awakening, the embarrassment forgotten. The kiss is so good that I involuntarily move causing my butt to bump against Mark's crotch. He groans into my mouth.
"Jeremy," he says and the way he makes my name sound causes blood to rush into my cheeks. He grabs my hip gently and explores it with his hand. We continue kissing, his erection pressing into my behind. I moan thinking about his attractive body pressing into mine.
"I'm going to take my shirt off baby," he says statement like. I realize that he's trying to not freak me out or surprise me by telling me what he's going to do. I nod my head. He pulls his shirt off revealing the admirable abs. I hesitantly touch them, making him inhale sharply. He kisses me, full of want and longing and love. His hand goes down to the bottom of my shirt and he gently pulls it up. I let him, and he smiles at me. We resume our kissing, his chest touching every inch of my exposed back, his hand gently exploring my hips, my stomach, my neck. His lips on my lips. His tongue deep in my mouth, making me want and need more. I push back against him again, hearing him groan never gets old. His thumb gently grazes the skin right above my boxers and I push back into him more wildly.
"Slow baby," he says steadying my hips.
"I want you so bad," he says looking into my eyes, "I've been waiting for this so long." I bite my lip, his words making me blush. Sure there's fear, but right now my body is running on a current of desire, begging me to be as close to Mark as is physically possible. I capture his lips with mine again and he returns the kiss passionately. His thumb hooks itself into my boxers and gently pulls down. I wiggle my legs until my boxers are off. I have never felt more exposed in my life, but it's good to finally be able to do this. Mark looks like he's in a trance. I've never seen him more sexually turned on. He kisses my neck and runs his hand over my naked behind and I shiver in excitement.
"So beautiful," he repeats. I put my hand behind me and gently place it over his groin as he inhales. Fuck, that's big, is all I can think of upon touching it.
Mark kisses me more wildly than usual. It's sloppy, but delicious at the same time. I can't believe it's me making him feel this way. He slowly takes off his boxers and lays back down behind me. I blindly put my hand behind until I'm touching it, long, and big, and silky smooth to the touch. Mark groans in my ear.
"Fuck," he hisses as I start moving my hand up and down. His breathing becoming more out of control as my heart beats wildly.
"Easy baby," he says as my movements become more erratic.
"Sorry," I mumble and he smiles and kisses me. I remove my hand and he closes the distance between us with one movement. He grabs my hand and our fingers lace together as he slowly glides up and down my behind, gently stroking my opening in the process. I moan so loud I don't even realize it's me making the sound. We continue making out and Mark's slow, persistent movement is making me absolutely crazy. I want him, I crave him, I need him right now, as close as humanely possible. I don't want any space between us. I start grinding back in rhythm to his movements. Mark puts a steadying hand on my hips. I push my opening against his tip and he groans but then stops me.
"What are you doing?" I ask as he gets off the bed and begins rummaging through a drawer.
"Looking for something," he says.
"A condom?" I ask.
"Well that too," he responds and I have a mini panic attack for some reason. This is not how I imagined my first time.
"I don't want to use a condom," I say and realize how little my voice sounds. He pauses what he's doing to look at me.
"You want me to bareback?" he asks confused, making me blush. I want to slap myself. You're about to have sex, you're asking someone not to use a condom, and then you proceed to blush about it. I guess it's the surprise in his voice that made me blush.
"Do you mind?" I ask.
"No, I just thought you would, you know with my past and all. I did get tested recently, but if you want to use a condom, I'm all for it," he replies, and begins looking through the drawer again. "Fuck," he says slamming the drawer shut. He comes back to bed. "I don't have any lube," he says apologetically.
"So?" I ask not really understanding the problem. He explains patiently.
"So I don't want to hurt you." My whole body is still in a state of ecstasy. I just want him in me more than anything else.
"I don't care," I reply and scoot my body close to his again. He stops me.
"No Jeremy, this is out of the question. I won't hurt you," he states and I know he means it. I freak out, he doesn't understand that next time might not be like this. Next time I might have a panic attack and break down crying. Next time I might be in a different mood, I might think about the pain. I need to do it now, now that it feels like the best thing in the world to do.
"Please," I beg looking over my shoulder at him. "Please Mark, now." He looks beyond torn. Finally he nods his head. His eyes glazed over, the desire won him over the same way it won me. I gently push back against him.
"Mmm, lick my fingers," he says in the sexiest authoritative tone of voice I've heard him use. I put each finger in my mouth, one by one, and lick them sloppily as he slowly grinds his front to my back. He takes his wet hand and wraps it around his length, then after a while puts it in between my cheeks. I moan in pleasure. Mark grabs my face and kisses me passionately. I back onto his hardness and feel the tip against my opening. As his tongue probes deeper and deeper into my mouth I slowly push back, and then, forward, and then back again until I can't take it any longer and I push a little harder. Mark breaks the kiss as the head of his erection slowly enters me. He's looking into my eyes, filled with desire and emotion, his mouth slightly open. I'm looking back at him, the person I love and trust the most. Letting him know me in the most intimate way. And it feels amazing. I put my hand on his face and he kisses it as the rest of him slowly enters me. I moan, and close my eyes.
"Open your eyes, I want to see you baby," he says. I open my eyes. He's deep inside of me now. I'm so overwhelmed with every kind of amazing emotion. He starts pulling in and out, in a very slow, gentle, steady rhythm. Our eye contact never breaking. He is breathtakingly beautiful, as he enters and renters me over and over again, in the most deliciously agonizing routine.
Our rhythm slowly picks up and I can't help closing my eyes as I moan. Mark's hand grabs my hip so hard it almost hurts. His jaw tenses.
"Fuck," I hear him mutter. I open my eyes and bring my face closer to his, leaning in for a kiss. He kisses me long and hard, his tongue getting more and more desperate. I moan into his mouth.
"I'm gonna cum in you baby," he says in a voice I barely recognize. I slowly nod feeling the pressure building up in me as well. His length pushes into me over and over again until I can't take it anymore and I explode all over the sheets without even having to touch myself. Mark starts moving faster until his whole body tenses and I feel a warm liquid fill my insides as he groans into my neck.
We lay in a heap of two warm, sweaty, entangled bodies. We look at each other and start laughing.
"Oh my God," Mark says rubbing his face, "that was amazing." I laugh, completely overwhelmed with the feeling of happiness. For once in my life I feel?normal. I have no fears.
After a while, when both of our hearts have calmed down, and when our bodies are no longer shaking, Mark turns to me and says, "I know you're disgusted by my past, but I just want you to know that it's never felt the way it has with you. I never knew it could actually feel so...I don't know, intimate I guess. So amazing." I smile at him, feeling the same exact way.
Finally we decide to slowly get out of bed. I go in to take a shower, and leave Mark to check his e-mail. When I walk back into the room sudden fear freezes me in my tracks. A familiar Facebook page glares at me. And Mark asks the one question I hoped to God I would never have to answer, "Who is Stuart Breckett?"
End of Part 1