Does it make me a shitty person that, when I heard he got divorced, I bought a growler of craft beer and celebrated that night?
Makes me a shitty person, doesn’t it?
No, don’t hold back. I know it does.
I don’t apologize for it, either. I’ll own it.
It’d be different if I’d been able to peel Kevin Markos out of my soul and rid myself of those memories,I suppose. I’m…resentful.
No, make that bitter. Even this many years later. Istillcan’t eat tiramisu or listen to a goddamned Queen song without wanting to burst into tears.
Not a damn person on the face of this planet I can tell any of that to, either. Not even Shae. I might be a bitter, shitty person, but I’ll bedamnedif I’ll out him, or do anything to jeopardize his career. Bad enoughI saved the pictures instead of deleting them, but in retrospect, I’m glad I did.
I stare at them sometimes, late at night when I’m alone, and I jerk off remembering the blissful shock on his face when I fucked him the first time and made him spill all over both of us.
Shae knows I’m bi, but she doesn’t know about Kev. I honestly wouldn’t put it past her to use any info I give her against him.I wouldn’t say she’s dishonest, but I know damn well she’d use a dirty trick if it’d serve the greater good.
Including blackmailing Kevin into giving her the coverage she wants, say to help push a bill through.
I won’t do that to him. The risks I take with Shae aremineto take. We’ll have mutually assured destruction if she ever fucks me over, because I can reciprocate, and she has a lot moreto lose than I do at this point. I haven’t broken any department rules in my relationship with her so far. Over the four years we’ve been seeing each other, I think we’ve proven our trust with each other. In fact, we’ve helped each other, passing information back and forth the other can find useful in our respective jobs.
The closest I’ve been to Kevin was ten years ago, when he moderated a presidentialdebate. I was on duty, guarding the incumbent, and positioned on the far side of the auditorium.
Keven never saw me.
I had to force myself to focus, to scan the crowd, to stay on task.
When I finally collapsed in my hotel room early the next morning, I cried myself to sleep.
Kevin visited the White House a few times for interviews, or to cover pressers, or pool sprays, or to conduct interviews,but I managed to avoid him. It’d be too hard to deal with it now.
Instead, I dothis.
I’ve made my way through the ranks. As third in command of the PPD, I still pull stints working protective duty for POTUS or other high-level officials or dignitaries when we need experienced agents for complex assignments, but my job now usually involves advance work and threat assessment, or helping trainnewer agents, or developing or evaluating security protocols and defenses, coordinating events, things like that.
After stripping off my shirt and undershirt, I sit on my couch with my Pad Thai and switch the channel to FNB to watch Kev’s cold open. This is my favorite part of the show, because the camera is only on him, and he’s usually a little witty, sometimes with a snarky comment that makesme chuckle. I can stare at his perfectly styled blond hair, the—uh, oh, glasses tonight.
There’s also something…differentabout Kevin tonight. Different in a way I can’t quite put my finger on. I wonder if there was breaking news today, or if he’s working on a headache. He looks like he feels crappy, for starters. Or like he’s been sucker-punched. There’s a haunted expression drawing deep linesin his brow that aren’t usually there.
While I’m on an intensive protective duty assignment, like I’ve just returned from, politics fall off my radar. The only thing I’m worried about in those situations is what will impact our logistics for the trip. Frankly, I know more about Australian radicals right now than I do political developments in the US this week.
I haven’t heard anything importantenough to make its way up the pipeline to me through work, though. No protest rallies or jaw-dropping developments in Congress. None I’m aware of, anyway. No direct and pressing threats to POTUS or other high-value targets beyond the usual ones we deal with. They wouldn’t have told me to take off the weekend through Tuesday if there were imminent credible threats.
I sit forward and turn up thevolume as he reads his text from the teleprompter.
“Good evening, and welcome toThe Daily Readout With Kevin Markos. If you’ve been following the Supreme Court today, you know they’re hearing yet another challenge to theObergefell v. Hodgesruling that eliminated gay marriage bans in the United States.”
He removes his glasses and sets them aside, clasps his hands on the desk in front of him,and stares directly into the camera. My heart thuds as I remember the feel of his lips wrapped around my cock.
“In the twenty years I’ve worked in broadcast journalism, I’ve made no secret about my political leanings. I consider myself a Republican, a fiscal conservative, but there is one key thing that my political party seems to forget.
“The roots of our party are supposed to be grounded inresponsible spending, using the taxpayers’ money wisely. About protecting personal rights. About protectingindividualrights. Frankly, I don’t understand where people get off repeatedly trying to repealRoe v. Wade, orOberfgefell v. Hodges. Because every time, the cause can be directly tracked to an individual trying to impose their religious beliefs, nearly always Christian beliefs, on otherpeople. And every time, it costs the taxpayers money, both at a state and at a federal level.”
Stunned, I can only sit there and watch. He’s not reading off a teleprompter now. He’s…enraged. Livid.
Holy.
Shit.
