A Perfect Fit Pt. 12

All characters are over 18 years of age.

*****

Mark is out of sorts. The loft has an uncanny appearance and creates a funny feeling in him that makes him count out his pills. He’s just checking the number against the calendar. He had been taking them correctly. It’s that his girl is not there.

She’s packing her remaining things at her old apartment and indicated she might just sleep over and get a ride with a friend in the morning. Mark had been nonchalant about that. Nighttime without her was not going well.

It’s not freezing tonight and the sidewalks are fairly clear of snow and ice, so he decides it’s time to start running again. He changes into his running clothes and laces his trainers tight. He runs and runs from her painful absence. It’s still cold enough that he can’t break a sweat and that’s what he needs: To sweat out the poisons his brain is capable of producing. He finds himself in an ugly, dirty part of town. It’s a dangerous place no one should be. It’s the kind of area he made his home during the worst parts of his life.

What was his doing here? Trying to cope with his emotions through exercise just brought him back to an ugly and desolate place. That uncanny feeling overtakes him again. Maybe he’s time traveled. Maybe his real life today is an illusion and he’s really back where he belongs. This street stinks of piss and roaches the size of mice are scurrying. Larger shapes stir, too.

“Spare some change?”

“Sorry, I got nothin’ on me,” Mark answers, truthfully.

“Yes, you do,” the shape hisses, not menacing, just full of contempt.

Mark turns and walks away until it’s not ridiculous to run. Then, he does until the pores open and the sweat breaks free. He runs past home in search of that runner’s high, then realizes being this hot and cold at the same time is a recipe for illness. He sprints back to his building and takes the stairs two at a time to the 8th floor in a final attempt to work out his treacherous body and exorcise what demons were lurking in his mind.

He checks his phone. No word from Jenni, but why would there be? It had only been hours, but this kind of night had the feeling of arctic darkness that goes on for months and drives people insane. Mark realizes how dependent he is on his little girl. “Big, tough Daddy Dom,” he mutters, throwing his sweaty clothes in the hamper.

His phone does ring and he feels like the firmament lit up, just for him. He lunges for it. It’s Freek.

Mark hesitates. After what happened between them last night, it feels soon for a phone call. Shouldn’t he leave it a day or two? Then he thinks to himself, ‘You’re not dating. There’s no three day rule. Don’t play games.’ It’s his friend calling and Mark is ashamed he’d consider not answering, especially after his unpleasant trip down memory lane to a time when he’d have loved to have a friend calling… or a phone.

“Hey. What’s up?”

“Hey, I was just going to get some coffee and wondered if you… and Jenni want to come with? Or I could bring you something if you like.”

Why does this feel like a date? “Okay, give me ten minutes. You in your studio?”

“Yeah, working late. See you in a few.”

“Yep.”

Mark hangs up and goes to quickly wash up and dress. Then he does something he never does: He checks out his hair and teeth in the small mirror by the front door. Was he going on a date? The fuck does he care how his unkempt hair looks?

Mark and Freek walk briskly past three Starbucks to get to the grubbier independent place. When Freek orders, it’s to stay, in a proper cup. Mark realizes they are having coffee, not getting coffee together. He orders decaf tea and a slice of vegan cake. It’s not like him to want sweets or to eat at night, but he knows he’s comfort eating; without Jenni, he requires something sweet in his mouth.

Freek pays for everything and leads them to a table toward the back where they can talk. When they settle in, their long legs touch. They tense for a second, then relax to rest against one another.

“You wanna talk about it.”

“I don’t want things to be weird between us, Mark. I’m sure it’s more common than you’d think, but it’s not normal, in my experience.”

“Yeah. Not for me, either.” Mark tries a forkful of cake. Even his baby girl might like this, even though it’s “fake food” as the littlest version of her would call it. There seems to be nothing that doesn’t remind him of her tonight. He pushes the plate toward his friend. “This is not bad. Try some.”

Freek takes a bite from Mark’s fork. They’re still in comfortable contact under the table.

“Did you like it or not really?” Freek can tell he’s not talking about the cake.

Last night, when Mark had stepped close and wrapped his big, warm hand around his cock, it had responded right away, rigid and almost vertical. When he’d kissed his neck on the spot he himself likes to be kissed, Freek yielded his throat to him. Savina’s “penalty” was over quickly because Mark was merciful van escort and got him off with complete understanding of his body.

“You know I liked it.” Freek’s blush climbs just above his beard.

“I know everything got sexual fast, on account of the website. If you wanna just be friends, that’s really okay. Just tell me. We never have to do that again and I still want ya around.”

“I never said no, did I?”

“That doesn’t mean you like the way things are going.”

“I do. I just wanted to check in. Figure out what’s going on.”

Mark lowers his sharp chin so that his hair hides his face for a second, then casts his eyes toward his friend’s: “I don’t know, man. It ain’t the same for me, like it is with Jenni. First I think it’s physical, not emotional, then it’s the other way around. I mean, I don’t like guys in this way. Never wanted to do that… and no big lightbulb came on. Not like it did when I realized Jenni was my little girl and I’m her Daddy. I dunno… maybe I just like you.”

Freek passes the cake, having nervously consumed most of it. “There is a word for that, you realize.”

“What’s that?” Mark asks with his mouth full.

“Demisexual. Surely you have considered this.”

“Uh-uh. Fuck. Is this how gays used to feel? Like no other boy ever liked a boy?”

“Maybe. Demisexual means you can be sexually attracted to people you know and care about. If you don’t think you’re bisexual, then I take it as a compliment. It means you really like me.”

Mark’s authentic wheezy, musical laugh comes through his damaged throat. He kicks softly under the table. “Of course, I like you.”

Another patron leaves and drops a note casually onto their table as he passes.

“How does it read?”

“I like the way you talk, too,” Mark says, reminded of when Jenni said that to him when they first met. Anyone else would have asked, ‘What does it say?’ Maybe it was that he was from an exotic place or that his Lady demands precise language.

Mark reads aloud: “Just wanted to say, you two make a beautiful couple.”

Freek looks apologetic and retracts his legs, sits straighter. “Oh, no. I’m sorry.”

“Pfft. I don’t care. I ain’t homophobic just ’cause I’m a redneck. I’m cautious because I don’t like false promises. I could live as a gay man… if that’s what I was, but I think I’m one of those… demi-ones, whatever you said.”

“Do you want to get out of here?”

The walk home is different. It’s pregnant with a different kind of tension. Mark’s got a spring in his step, like he’s holding a shiny balloon and it’s the new word for what describes him. The way he feels toward Freek is welcome and it’s understood, too. The night is suddenly less “dark and full of terrors,” Mark thinks, reminded of watching Game of Thrones with Jenni, who cries when anything bad happens to the dragons. She’s with him constantly like a little friendly shadow.

The men arrive at their building. Mark realizes he doesn’t even know where his friend actually lives. The way he feels about him is incongruous with how little he knows about him. Then again, depth of friendship doesn’t depend on trivial facts.

In the elevator, Mark presses the buttons for both their floors, not wanting to presume. When they get to the 6th, Freek says nothing, feels rooted in place.

“You zonin’ out, man?” Mark asks.

Freek twists his body to embrace his friend. They both sigh at the powerful attraction that pulls their bodies together. Freek caresses his back and it feels sensual even through his overcoat. Mark tilts his head up slightly so his scruffy chin grazes Freek’s beard, then nuzzles him with his smooth cheek, animal-like. The cage of the elevator does not conceal them. “What would Savina think of this?” Mark asks softly against his friend’s lips.

“She said not to make a fool of her. If this is more than a crush, then she doesn’t want to be the last to know. She doesn’t really care, otherwise. What does Jenni think?”

“You’re not another female, so she ain’t jealous. She wouldn’t want me to be lonely tonight,” he says seductively. Freek sighs again.

“You know I’ve never done this before, right?”

“What, been submissive? I think ya have. I’ve seen it; you’re a natural.”

Mark wasn’t sure how his dominant nature would come into play with a man, let alone one who was larger and probably stronger than him. No, it was there like the North Star, the only part of this about which he felt sure. Even if neither of them could see the path, he felt sure he was the one who should take the lead into the dark unknown. He kisses Freek firmly and feels his mouth open; he grows shorter, too, as his knees bend. He senses his tongue poised to respond to his own, but breaks away to open the door onto the 8th floor.

“C’mon,” he says, leading his friend down the corridor by the hand. “This is gonna be fun. We don’t have to do everything under the sun.”

“Yes, Sir,” Freek replies, only half-teasing.

“Very good, yalova escort boy,” Mark growls. His hands are shaking when he goes to unlock his door. He feels his friend’s curious eyes. No, this didn’t reveal hidden nerves. “It’s my medication. It affects my fine motor skills. It’s why my canvasses are so big; I can’t get facial expressions right with fine detail.”

“Ah, I see.” Freek places his hand over Mark’s before taking the key from him to help him. Even this small act he manages to do with the air of a humble servant.

“Thank you.”

“At your service.”

Mark glances around the loft. Still no sign of Jenni. He’s disappointed, but grateful to have this other form of companionship. He’s excited, too. He helps Freek out of his winter things like a gentleman. He wonders if this makes him like the ‘boy,’ but it doesn’t really feel like that. Freek’s not feminine, just a submissive. Mark’s androgynous, compared to him.

“Would you like a drink?”

“No, thank you. I’m fine,” he says meaningfully.

“Come here,” Mark says, already taking him in his arms, eager to show him how he kisses for real when he’s not holding back. He grows hard at Freek’s throaty gasp and this time it’s his knees that go slightly weak at the rush of blood to his loins. Freek grips him tighter, sensing his momentary light-headedness. The man’s strength excites him; the only time he’d been this close to another male Mark had been beating the hell out of him. This type of adrenaline rush was much nicer.

Mark recovers to stand to his full height, squares his shoulders, chest out. Pressed against the other man, he feels his sensitive nipples are hard. He pulls off his sweater and T-shirt in one motion and brings Freek’s hands to his chest to show him what he likes. The sub understands right away and uses his skillful, steady fingers to give him the stimulation he craves. Mark unbuttons his shirt without difficulty; whatever cascade of chemicals was now occurring in his bloodstream countered the hand tremor.

Mark traces the ancient designs of his tattoos. The pagan-ness is a serious turn-on to his primal brain. Even with his eyes closed as he kisses the man deep in his mouth, he can feel the faint scars the ink had left. Freek seems to enjoy having his secret markings explored in this way and their bodies bend into each other, swaying subtly, finding their way to more contact. They can feel each other’s arousal against the hollows of their hip bones.

“Want to go to bed?”

“Yes, Sir,” the sub breathes against his face. Mark wonders why he doesn’t smell like cigarettes and realized he must have planned on making out with him tonight.

At the bed, Freek seems more hesitant. It’s the camera on the tripod. “Oh, that’s not on. I wouldn’t stream this; I don’t know if the people who watch us would want to see me with another man without my little girl.”

Freek seems to need more than that. It’s still threatening, so Mark turns it to face away from the bed. “There, it ain’t looking at you, baby.”

They both laugh: “Baby” had just slipped out. It didn’t really work between them.

“Thank you, Daddy,” Freek replies in a humorous impression of Jenni.

“If you’re askin’ for punishment, be careful what ya wish for,” Mark says as he unbuckles his belt. His friend looks genuinely regretful for a moment. “I’m joking. I don’t wanna hurt you… in any way. Don’t worry about that.”

“I trust you, Mark.”

“Good.” Mark strips slowly, liking the approving, curious gaze all over his body. Jenni’s naked scopophilic enjoyment of him over the past weeks has perhaps gone to his head. When you have someone telling you every day how pretty you are as they salivate, it’s hard not to believe it a little and come to expect it. Mark finishes with a sexy little toss of his hair out of his eyes.

“I envy your body, Mark.”

“Don’t. Just want it.” Mark climbs on the bed and props himself up. “Now you. Let me look at you, too.”

Freek lets the open shirt fall from his shoulders. Mark can’t help but appraise him, too, and feel envious. Was it lust or admiration? A bit of both. He wonders if gay couples get competitive about the shape of their bodies. Freek’s everything Jenni is not, yet Mark is aroused anyway. Those two had looked so hot together, that thick arm flexing as he’d fingered her slender and weak body. Mark stifles a moan of longing for his girl. Still, he enjoys dominating his friend in this way, making him reveal himself for his pleasure. Mark realizes his life’s work is about thorough examination of the human form. The greatest mystery was why he never got enough, could never look enough to get his fill…

If Freek were anybody else, he’d want to paint him, but not fuck him. There was something about this one. Maybe it was that he’d gotten caught up in his relationship with Jenni as it was forming like an insect in amber and was now part of its beauty.

Freek blushes as he takes off his canvas work pants and then his giresun escort black briefs. Mark trails his hand down his own chest and belly to stroke himself while he enjoys the sight. He wants to put him at ease, not be too uncomfortable, but the man’s awkward shyness does make him feel powerful. He feels that sense of power twitching in his erection and loves how the way it moves catches the sub’s nervous gaze. There is it: Hunger more than reticence.

He stands at the foot of the bed. Mark doesn’t invite him closer for a long moment, then relents with a smile. “Very nice, sweet boy,” he praises, beckoning him to come close.

Freek kneels beside him, not too close, and so very obedient.

“What were you thinkin’ we’d do now?” It’s a deceptively dominant question, the way Mark asks it, making him reveal himself more and letting him know he knew all along that “getting coffee” was about getting into Mark’s bed tonight.

“I… I don’t know. I was hoping you’d…”

“Kiss me some more. I like that.”

Freek dives for his mouth, full of gratitude to be let off the hook. Mark pulls him into him lovingly and gives him Dom praise in the form of touches and murmurs into the sweet boy’s eager mouth. Mark shoves his thigh between his and guides him to move as he wishes.

The two men pleasure Mark together, while Freek rubs against Mark’s upper thigh. They’re soon sweaty and entranced by the pace the Dom has set. When Freek gets too eager, Mark swats his hand gently. “No. Like to take my time.”

“Yes, Sir,” he pants.

“That’s okay. Somethin’ tells me ya been trained differently.”

Freek chuckles against Mark’s lips. “Savina does not appreciate teasing.”

“I got my limits, too, but this feels good for now. Do you like it, baby?”

This time, neither laughs at the slip of the tongue. “Yeah, I like this. It’s just how I imagined…”

Mark grips his short hair to make him yelp. “You been imagining this?” he snarls theatrically.

“Yes, Sir.”

“How long?” the Dom demands.

Freek pushes his head back against Mark’s grip to look into his eyes. “Since the summer, Mark.”

The Dom is truly surprised. He pushes Freek onto his back and pins him, looking down into his eyes with interest. “Better tell me. I wanna know.”

“The first time we met. I introduced myself and we shook hands.” He smiles at how absurd a handshake seems in comparison to this moment. “I felt something. It made me wonder about myself… I tried to make it happen again, watching gay porn, forcing myself to imagine this with other attractive guys. I know you won’t believe me, but so far it’s just you.”

Mark pauses to take this in. How could what he’d just heard be real? He’s not lying, though, because Mark would be able to tell. He grinds his hips into the suffering sub. “Guess I’m just special, then.” He resumes a sensual rhythm to let his friend know nothing is broken. They both groan from deep inside; this intimacy is such an unexpected rush.

They hear a rattling at the front door. It must be Jenni struggling with the unfamiliar lock. Freek looks guilty as sin, but Mark just smiles; to him, everything was suddenly wonderful. This horrible night has done a complete 180.

“Oh, fuck, Mark! Should I get dressed?”

“Not really time for that.”

Jenni enters her new home and immediately spots the two large male bodies in their bed.

“Mark? Should I go?”

“No! Come here!” he says, climbing off his friend to leave him exposed. He sits up with his arm extended. “This is a good surprise, baby girl!”

Jenni approaches and gives Freek a little wave. “Um… was I not supposed to know?”

“Nah, this just happened. We didn’t plan on it,” Mark says with endearing shamelessness. “Your friend with you?”

“No, I took an Uber. I packed, but I can get my stuff another day. I just… couldn’t wait until tomorrow night to see you, Daddy. Now I think I messed up…”

“Nothin’s messed up.” Mark pulls her to him to kiss her as if his lips weren’t just on another mouth seconds before. It’s too hungry for Freek’s liking. He manhandles her while he does it, like he’s making desperately sure she’s real.

“So… now that I’m home, do we get to turn the camera back around?”

* * * * * The three of them stand around the bed, almost solemnly. Freek’s put his pants back on, but Mark remains comfortably nude. Though obviously overjoyed his baby girl was back where she belongs, Mark had handled the situation with tact, not throwing his new intimacy with his friend aside. “Stay. Please, stay,” Mark had said in a tone that few would be able to resist.

“What do ya think, man? Do you wanna be on the ‘Mark and Jenni’ site as a special guest?”

“Oh, I suppose. I’d better call my Lady and tell her. She’ll want to see it.”

Freek calls Savina to let her know what’s about to happen. Mark and Jenni take the time to kiss more. It’s like they’re long lost lovers. She takes off her clothes shyly. Underneath, she has on a lacy ballet pink bra and panties set. It’s grown-up underwear, sexy and tasteful, and she’s uncertain how her man will react. She bites her lip.

“That’s so pretty, honey. Did ya wear that for me?”

“Yes, Daddy. Do you like it?”

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