Page 35 of Darkness and Duress

“You talk too much.” His words were barely a whisper as his other hand snuck higher over my chest to settle beneath my jaw, his grip loose but there. So very, very there. Each roll of his hips bunched the robe higher until it was rough denim against bare skin and every last nerve was alight.

“Stop teasing and start fucking.”

“Not till we’re tested.” His nose trailed up the back of my neck and nuzzled into my hair with a low, rumbly, growly sound. “You fucked with my head. Don't know who I am anymore. Just want you.”

God, how my inner slut danced with joy. This was either a pipe dream come true or a really fucked up nightmare, but I didn't care. I was going to ride out this alternate universe of pleasure for as long as the hallucination lasted.

Marco and I rolled over the mattress, insidious and slow until I was beneath him, his bulky frame pinning me face-down on the bed as his gyrating hips continued a torturously slow grind. Each movement caused my aching cock to shift and slide where it was pinned between my body and the surface beneath us. I was going to die. I was going to die and I was already in Heaven and I never, ever wanted it to stop.

“Marco, fuck me. Please?”

“Shut up.” His hand jerked higher under my jaw, his fingers sliding between my lips as his palm hooked around my chin. A full-body shudder tore through me as a needy moan slipped from my throat.

“Such a whore for it,” he mumbled against the nape of my neck, gruff and shaky and breathy.

I bucked my hips against him, the bulge of his cock straining against the denim as he taunted my ass with every unfulfilledfantasy I'd ever had. The act had the exact effect I'd hoped for—feral Marc made a brief appearance as he knocked my knees further apart with his and tightened his grip on my jaw.

“Suck.” The fingers in my mouth pushed deeper and I complied with the demand like the wanton little slut I was. Each downward press of his cock against my ass was met with a mirrored response of my own hips, him rutting against my bare ass as I fucked my cock into the mattress beneath us. Never had I ever in my life come hands-free, but I was about to break that unfortunate streak of bad luck courtesy of a fully-clothed man and the mere promise of his cock.

His pace quickened, the tender skin of my ass stinging with each punishing movement as he rocked against me, grunting softly in my ear with every slurp and suck of his invasive fingers in my mouth. I would be rubbed raw, chafed in all the wrong places, but I couldn't find a single fuck to give as he started panting, his breaths growing as rough and erratic as his movements. I wasn't the only one dancing on this razor edge of pleasure and the thought of that had my balls drawing up and pressure building at the base of my spine.

I whined and whimpered and sucked even harder, his grip tightening in response as he began thrusting in earnest. Both strangely intimate and yet utterly raunchy, we fucked without fucking until the bed itself rocked with our movements.

“Come, slut. I know you want to.” His lips dragged the words over my neck before they parted. The burn of his teeth as he bit down on the tendon of my neck had my vision going white as the impossible pressure crested, peaked, and exploded. I gargled a cry of sheer pleasure as my cock pulsed and throbbed before spilling cum into the tight space between my body and the bed. Marco, formerly all breathy pants and stifled grunts, moaned and shuddered. It was music to my ears as he groaned again, pressing his throbbing dick against my ass to the pointof pain. I loathed the existence of his pants but shuddered with pure delight as the damp warmth of his cum seeped through the material while he rocked his hips through the vestiges of his orgasm.

Shivering from head to toe with pleasure, he gradually stilled but for the heaving of his chest as he panted, his sweaty brow sliding back and forth over the nape of my neck, as if he were marking me with his scent. It took forever for his grip to loosen, my jaw tense and aching from the intrusion. It was the most strange and satisfying sexual experience of my life. I was instantly bereft as he rolled off my back with a grunt.

Molten and melted, I shifted with a quiet grunt until I could face him, too tired to bother moving any more than was necessary. I discovered him with an arm thrown over his eyes and his other hand lax against his inner thigh. Oh, fuck. Please don't let him panic. Please don't panic. Please?

“S’creepy to stare.” He tilted his head and peeked at me with one squinty eye. “What?”

“You okay?”

“Mn. No.” He exhaled a long suffering sigh and flopped his arm dramatically over his chest to stare at the ceiling. “I came in my pants like a fucking preteen and didn't bring a change of clothes. Not okay at all.”

The relief that flooded my system was a heady, potent, intoxicating thing. Hell, Marco himself was intoxicating. Marco making jokes after we basically fucked one another? Take away my license because I was effectively drunk.

“I have something you can wear, idiot.” I shifted, grimacing as the wet spot beneath me stuck and clung in all the wrong places. “Got clean sheets, too.”

“Ain't you a fucking Boy Scout. Always prepared.” His eyes slanted toward me and Heaven help me, he smiled. It was a small, shy, slightly crooked thing of beauty. Yeah, fuck mesideways. I was in fucking love and there was no hope for surviving that terminal condition.

Chapter Seventeen

Marco

My head was a God damn clusterfuck. Between the jumbled thoughts and feelings about my father and his uncharacteristic behavior, my longing for my mom, the fucked up jobs I was expected to handle, and the downright terrifying urges I felt toward Bran, I was three seconds away from a wholesale mental breakdown. The whole situation was made worse by the fact that I was still battling a depressive episode the likes of which I hadn't experienced in a long while. My days bled together, the passage of time marked by Bran and Jericho coming and going as they continued to carry out their duties to my father while I wasted away in their shithole apartment with a demon cat for company.

Neither of them asked me why I was there or if I had any intention of leaving anytime soon. I'd heard Bran talking about it to Jericho late one night when they assumed I was sleeping. Little did either of them know, I only managed to sleep when Bran was close by. I tried not to examine that fact too closely. I had enough bullshit to obsess over without adding thosecomplicated details to the mix. I wasn't gay, but I'd at least gotten to a point where I stopped questioning the particulars and let myself experience the feelings without judgment. Fuck labels. I was okay with being a jumble of desire and want for a man who seemed to tick boxes I didn't know I had. I’d save the identity crisis for a day when I wasn't suffocating under the weight of depression whilst simultaneously dealing with my fucked up family and work situation.

Bran’s cat compelled me out of bed with a bestial yowling sometime in the afternoon. I was the only one in the apartment and the animal wouldn't fucking quit. Trudging into the living room with a muttered curse revealed the source of the beast's operatics—he was clinging to the window sill screeching bloody murder at a fucking pigeon on the other side of the glass. With a roll of my eyes, I stalked over to him and plucked him up by the scruff like I had seen Brandon do a hundred times. He yowled the entire time, writhing and spitting until I flopped him on his back in my arm.

“You're one fucked up cat, y'know that?” I gave his chest a scritch and huffed out a laugh as he wiggled and bit at my knuckles—not hard enough to break skin but forceful enough to sting a little. Weird love language but there was nothing normal about any of us. It didn't surprise me that the cat was just as fucked in the head. I sank into the beat-up couch with a grunt and settled the massive feline on my lap. He sprawled and stretched out on his back before hitching his hind legs up to play-gouge at my wrist.

“Jesus, you're a sadist.” Despite my bitching, I continued to scratch his chest and stomach, fighting back a smile as he alternated between purring and meowing with the occasional growl.

We lost a long time with these bizarre affectionate antics before the animal got bored and jumped from my lap. I rubbedmy chest with my fingers to ease the ache. Leave it to me to get my feelings hurt by a damn cat. Maybe I was a lot lonelier than I'd thought. The thought was confirmed when the cat yowled from within Bran’s bedroom and I sprang to my feet to see what he wanted. Pathetic. I'd become absolutely fucking pathetic.

I discovered Lucy perched on top of a dresser with his front paws on the wall, reaching for a weird feather thing hanging higher up. As I approached, the object made more sense. It was one of those dumb sticks with a string and feathers on the end. A cat toy. I had shit I could be doing. I had responsibilities. Was I really about to reduce myself to playing with a freaking animal? Yes. Yes, I absolutely was.

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