Page 35 of Marcus-stiltskin

But this is not a polite brotherly hug. Our bodies are touching everywhere. I can feel every muscle. I can hear the sound of his heart beating in my ear. I wrap my arms around his waist and rest my head on his chest. He leans his head against mine with a sigh and we stand like that for what seems like hours, but in reality it’s a minute, maybe less, before he clears his throat.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” I ask, not moving my head from his chest.

“For acting like an asshole when you told me what you do.”

“Eh, it’s a pretty standard reaction. It’s why I don’t date,” I say, even as I continue to cling to him.

“But I would very much like to date you… see if we could be more.”

My heart is about to pound out of my chest. “More?”

“More,” he repeats.

“Why?”

“You’re funny and brave.”

I huff a laugh. “I’m definitely not brave.”

“You agreed to help me even though you have a phobia of horses. You faced it head on to help out a friend. I think that’s brave.”

He pulls back from me and meets my eyes. “Are you still shivering? You need to get into the bathroom and get out of these clothes.”

What is that old saying? In for a penny, in for a pound? “Or…you could help me out of them out here,” I tell him.

He sucks in a breath and I figure I have nothing to lose. I put my hands on either side of his face and run my thumbs across the dark, well-trimmed facial hair he grows there.

“Sarah,” he sighs before he leans down to meet me halfway, his hands sliding down to the small of my back, almost as if he’s afraid to go any lower. His lips brush mine, and suddenly the hesitant, reserved Marcus is someone else completely as his tongue seeks out mine.

His hands slide down to grip my ass as I pull him closer and kiss him harder. For a long moment, he seems to forget everything that’s probably been stopping him from doing this–that I’m his best friend’s sister, that my job weirds him out, that the last time he saw me I was fifteen. He seems to forget it all and I eat up every second of it, not sure how much or how long he’s going to let me stay here in my little delusional world. He pulls back as I nearly run out of breath and rests his forehead against mine. Our breathing is labored as I keep my eyes closed, wanting to be here forever.

I want to tell him a million things, but all I can do is stay still and wait, hoping that this isn’t just a temporary moment of weakness. Finally, he pulls me back close. “Sarah, I want you to stay.”

“I want to stay, too.” I start to work on the buttons of his shirt as his lips find mine again. As I reach the last button, my hands reach for his waistband and he pulls away, taking my hands in his.

Embarrassment is written all over his face. “It’s not super romantic or sexy with the prosthetic. I’ll have to sit to take it off. If you want to turn off the light or…”

“Marcus, it will be fine. I don’t mind waiting. I can even help.”

“No. I just don’t want you to be grossed out by it.”

“You literally pulled me out of the biggest pile of shit the other day and didn’t so much as flinch. I really don’t think a leg can compare to that.” He chuckles and moves to the bed, taking my hand and pulling me with him. I drop out of the towel and begin to quickly strip out of my wet things in front of him, wanting to be ready the minute he is.

“How am I supposed to do this when you’re distracting me like that?”

I pick up the towel and use it to dry the ends of my hair.

“Not my problem,” I grin as he starts to shimmy out of his jeans. His jeans make it down to his knees, revealing his boxers and the obvious tent of the fabric created by his cock. He pulls them completely off, then starts to work on removing his prosthetic. Underneath his pants leg, the thick sleeve of the prosthetic covers his entire leg all the way up to his thigh. Carefully, he rolls it down until he can remove the prosthetic leg. He sets it close to the bed and then begins carefully rolling the protective sleeve down.

“I never realized how long this takes,” he says, huffing an embarrassed laugh.

“We could get sexy hold music,” I suggest.

He snorts. “Come again? Sexy what?”

“Sexy hold music. You know, ‘Your dicking has been put on hold. Your approximate wait time is one to two minutes’.”

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