“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Marc said, but Chris wasn’t listening.
“And maybe for you it’s not a big deal, but it is for me. I didn’t grow up in a house like yours.” His pulse picked up, buzzing through his entire body like a rattlesnake. “You’re the first man that’s ever touched me. Not even in my wildest dreams would I have imagined I’d be getting fucked, figuratively and quite literally, by another dude, and actually liking it. Do you have any idea how much this shit has messed with my head?”
“Chris, baby…” Marc’s voice quivered in a mellow rasp.
Any other time and that pet name, his tone, his body language, and the tenderness in his eyes would have softened Chris, but not tonight.
“Stop calling me that. I’m not your baby. We’re fucking friends. This sex thing—” Chris winced. The thumping in his head was becoming unbearable. “It was just so you could help me come to terms with my sexuality. Nothing more.”
“Nothing more?” A wrinkle between Marc’s eyebrows appeared, deepening as he clenched his jaw. “As far as I know, this wasyouridea. You’re the one who wanted to experiment, keep things casual, no strings attached. Not even once have you bothered to ask how I feel about all this,” he barked, gesturing with his hands. “So don’t come at me with that bullshit.”
“Keep communication open,” Chris mocked. “All this time I’ve been trying to be honest, but you can’t extend the same courtesy? The fucking hypocrisy!If you didn’t want to do this, you could have said so. No one forced you into bed with me.”
“You’re right. I wasn’t completely honest.” Marc deflated a little, yet his eyes remained pinned on Chris’s. “But you wouldn’t have coped with the truth.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about, but you never seemed to have any problem with this arrangement. You’re getting sex. I’m getting sex. The band is still intact. Everyone’s happy.”
“You have no fucking idea how hard this is for me.” Marc poked him in the chest, actually digging deep.
“Hard for you? What about me? You think this was a walk in the park?” Chris slapped his hand away. “You knew what you were doing. You’re comfortable with who you are and what you like, but I cannot, for the life of me, keep my shit together. And with you, all these things…” He gripped his tee, as if that was causing the lack of air in his lungs. “I have no idea what the fuck it is I’m feeling! I always cared for you. For fuck’s sake, we’re friends. But this is nothing like that. When I’m with you I’m not so fucking dead inside, and now all the lines are blurred, and it’s just—I trusted you. I gave you fucking everything. My body. My mind. Only for you to play me, confusing me with your sweet words and the way you fuck.”
“Chris, that’s enough.”
“We’re not serious, but we behave like we are,” he continued with his rant, closing in on his friend, ready to charge against him like a bull. “We share almost everything, talk to make sure the other is comfortable when we bring a third person in. The aftercare sessions… I’ve never done this shit with anyone. And now all I wanna do is punch you in the face. Fuck! You shouldn’t have come.”
“Red,” Marc said through gritted teeth when the tip of their feet tapped.
“You said you don’t love him anymore. That you don’t wanna get back with him. But there you were all dressed up, allowing him to touch you. Why the fuck did you do that?”
“Chris! Didn’t you hear me? I saidred. Stop!” Marc grabbed his arms, squeezing so hard the numbness taking over the guitarist’s entire being retreated.
“Don’t fucking touch me.” Chris yanked his body away.
The air froze, and the universe stilled as the back of his legs bumped against the bed and they stumbled. It all happened in slow motion and Chris could almost see it playing out like a movie. He lost his balance. Half of his ass plopped on the edge of the mattress, pulling Marc with him before he could let go. They rolled, falling on the carpeted floor with a resounding thud.
“Fuck!” he cried when his back and head hit the hard surface.
His inner world was shaken. For a moment he couldn’t see, didn’t even know where he was, until he did.
“Get off me.” He pushed Marc, who crawled up and straddled his lap.
The sole presence of this man was so consuming he didn’t want to be around him. Not now that the infection was spreading and anger was festering in his heart.
“Stop it, Chris.” He gripped both of his wrists, but the guitarist wrestled, one of his fists connecting with Marc’s jaw.
“Fuck!”
That was the end of it.
Marc glared at him and used that monstrous strength he kept hidden, pinning both of Chris’s arms on either side of his head. “When I sayred,you fucking stop. You hear me?” He panted. “I don’t know what the hell’s gotten into you, but pump the fucking brakes.”
“Get off me!”
“No. Not until you listen to me.”
“I don’t wanna hear what you have to say. I’m tired of this. Let me fucking go.” Chris raised his hips, but Marc barely even blinked.
“Enough!”
