“Yeah,” he finally told Joel. “I just feel there’s somethingthere. With him. When I peel away the negatives and even the D/s, there’s still something there, and it’s not just physical. Something in him….”
“When I met Aiden, he was just figuring out he was a Dominant. I was already heavily into the scene. I had vowed not to take on a newbie Dom, because I didn’t want to have to teach anyone anything. But then Aiden happened, and… well, Aiden was worth it. All the mistakes we made, all the pain we caused each other… I don’t regret it at all. Because from the start there was something about him that called to me like nobody else ever had. Nobody.” Joel’s eyes filled with tears, but they were happy ones. As if he was so moved by his love for his Master, his life partner, that he couldn’t help it.
“Hey, I thought it might be you when Dana said Joel had a visitor.” Aiden, who was pretty much a darker skinned, black-haired version of Mark appearance-wise, beamed at Francis as soon as he came through the kitchen doors.
“Hey, Aiden.” Francis got to his feet to hug his friend. This one was more of a man hug, less the all-encompassing embrace he’d gotten from Joel earlier. “Good to see you.”
“You too.” Aiden pulled himself a chair and sat next to Joel, kissing his temple in greeting. “Has my boy treated you well?” he asked Francis playfully, as if there was a question.
“He really has. We had a nice lunch and a good talk.”
“Francis is moving to Acker. He has a boy there,” Joel said, smirking evilly at Francis.
“A boy, you say? Hmm… I guess it’s not that surprising. If you need any thoughts from my end of the paddle, let me know. Anytime.” Aiden smiled at Francis, his expression telling Francis that he was ready to let it go for now, but that he’d really be there for Francis if need be.
“Joel said a bad word,” Francis deadpanned.
“Did he now?” Aiden practically purred, turning to look at Joel who was groaning.
“You suck, Francis,” he grunted, but he was smiling anyway.
“Oh I do, and I quite enjoy it. Just like you enjoy your spankings.”
Aiden shook his head fondly at them both. “So Francis, what are you going to do in Acker, other than become whatever your boy needs you to be?”
And so the conversation started anew, and once again, Francis felt the sadness of leaving, wrapped in the love and caring of his friends.
Chapter Nine
Mark woke on Valentine’s Day and thought about his life choices.
At least it was a Thursday, which meant that his parents had called the day before and tried to prod him about whether he had a date for today or not. The normal yelling had been magnified by their disappointment of not having found a “decent girl” and potentially being a “fucking fag” which was the go-to thing his father liked to call him whenever he was angry at Mark, which was… well, more often than not.
While he showered, he wondered what his parents would think if they’d know that he was, in fact, a fucking fag. That tonight, he’d probably have sex with some hot-as-sin older man who was a nurse, of all things.
Thinking about Francis made Mark’s cock take interest. Huffing with mild amusement, Mark grabbed his dick and stroked under the hot water. He’d ordered a waterfall showerhead a while back, and boy had it made his life nicer.
He jerked himself off leisurely, thinking about Francis. The man had the greatest smirk Mark had ever seen, and graceful hands that knew how to play Mark’s body. The images flashing in Mark’s mind were picking up speed with his hand, and he soon went from Francis touching him all over to sucking Francis off, to fucking him.
The image of Francis, face down on his bed while Mark pounded into him made his toes curl. A small part of him tried to insinuate that this wasn’t what he really wanted. That he wanted to be the one being fucked instead, but that bigger part of his brain provided mixed messages.I’m nobody’s bitch. I don’t take it up the ass. Jesus.
Even as the thoughts swirled in his mind, he could tell how wrong they were, yet they’d been a mantra of sorts for a long time. And then his mind pressed on that image of Francis holding him down and just taking him, telling him how good he felt, how well he was taking it, and Mark came, biting his lip to curb the sounds he was making as if it mattered in an empty house.
* * * *
Mark cleaned up his place a bit, changed the sheets, made sure laundry was done, and did some cooking during the day just to keep his mind off the evening.
He couldn’t help but to think about Francis. Knowing the man was now in town—he’d ended up asking Francis to send messages when he stopped on his way to rest and then when he made it safely to Acker—made the pit of his stomach all squirmy. He caught himself smiling occasionally, which felt weird.
The problem with having something—and someone—to look forward to, was that with a possibility, came doubt.
Mark started to wonder if he was going to be enough. What did he have to give to someone like Francis? Sure, they didn’t know each other that well yet, but there was a certain kind of sophistication to Francis that Mark couldn’t compete with or even fully understand. He was also pretty damn sure that the more Francis would learn about Mark, the less interested he’d be, and then Mark would have nothing and nobody again.
He sighed into the steam rising from the pasta he was boiling, and tried to shrug it off. It was his upbringing talking again, in a way. He’d never been enough for anyone, so why would he be now?
He’d had more “not therapy” with Evy, mostly by phone or whenever they happened to cross paths during lunch time, and it had helped some. She’d warned him that sometimes there were steps back. Not necessarily in a one-step-forward-three-steps-back way, but more like one forward and ten back, when what she liked to call “his trauma” was this severe.
It had taken Mark a lot to even begin to realize that he had PTSD from his childhood. PTSD that got triggered with every call, oftentimes enough for him to have a full-blown panic attack.
