It was stupid to get so excited. It wasn't like he was going to want to repeat the experience from last time. We hadn't talked about it since, not on the phone, not when we were texting, not anyhow. A pandemic had put a damper on my sex life, although that had meant regular Friday night chats with Marshall. Plus, this time he would be here on business, not to mention that I had my kid for the week. I thought about getting a sitter, but that's not an easy thing to explain to a four-year-old. “Daddy’s friend is coming to town and Daddy has a lot of confusing feelings he wants to work out with alcohol and special hugs.”
Not that Marshall and I could do anything with her around, not really. Sierra was more visibly excited than I that Uncle Marshall was going to stay a whole weekend with us. They had only met once in person, but she had decided that Marshall was her “favorite boy,” except of course for me and whichever boyfriend she had that week in preschool. He’d started reading books over video for Sierra if she was with me when he called, and fuck me if that wasn’t the goddam sweetest thing ever.
“Is he going to sleep in my room?” Sierra asked from the backseat.
“No, remember how you helped me put sheets on the bed in the guest room? That's where he’ll sleep.”
“But,” she protested, “he could get scared. Uncle Marshall might be scared of the, uh, of the dark, and, um he can come sleep in my room.”
“Like you come sleep in mine? And I wake up with your stinky feet in my face?”
Sierra giggled and kicked the back of the passenger seat. “No, Daddy, your feet are stinky.”
“What? No they’re not!” I protested as we pulled into the passenger pickup area.
Most of the people exiting the airport still wore masks, so I looked for Marshall’s hair on top of every suit; that fluffy grown-out version of the cut he’d had the last time we spoke. I was starting to think he lost his luggage when a nearly-bald man tapped on the passenger window. Sienna screamed.
“What the fu—dge?!” I exclaimed before I registered the rest of Marshall’s face. He laughed as I unlocked the doors and popped the trunk.
“Didn’t mean to scare you, Sierra,” Marshall said as he shoved a rolling bag into the back. “I forgot to tell you that I was going to shave my head.”
My daughter clutched her baggie of cereal and stared at him as he rounded the side of the car to hop in.
“Welcome to the 505,” I greeted him.
Marshall’s chiseled jaw revealed itself as he repositioned his mask. “Hi there,” he said, thumping my shoulder lightly. My stomach flipped. God, but my friend was fucking handsome.
“Wow.” I reached over and brushed my hand over his head.
Marshall smiled sheepishly. “I got tired of styling it.”
Since video chatting with him two days ago Marshall had gotten a fade that left only a hint of dark hair on top of his head. He rubbed the shorn sides. “I’m still getting used to seeing myself in the mirror.”
I slapped his shoulder. “Looks really good, man.” What I meant was that he looked fuckable, but there were words that I wasn’t ready for Sierra to add to her vocabulary. My daughter was hiding behind a stuffed animal, playing shy now that she was facing her favorite boy. Marshall leaned around to talk to her.
“Sierra, what do you think about my new hair?”
Sierra roared at him.
“She’s a T-Rex,” I explained.
“Does the mighty Tyrannosaurus Rex not like a tight fade?” he teased her.
She shook her head, smiling reluctantly when Marshall feigned heartbreak.
“Well, should I grow it out?”
She nodded in response, then apparently couldn’t contain herself as she blurted, “You look mean now. Like a bad guy.”
“Should I grow my hair long like your daddy?”
I touched the bun on the back of my head self-consciously. Did Marshall secretly hate my hair? He’d never said anything about it. Should I cut it?
“Daddy has pirate hair,” Sierra declared, shyness forgotten as she latched onto one of her favorite topics, “and you have bad guy hair.”
“Oh, so pirates aren’t bad guys anymore?”
“Some of them are bad guys and some are good guys doing bad things,” she explained confidently.
Marshall glanced at me. “Uh huh.”
I grinned as we exited the highway. “Sierra, can you tell Uncle Marshall the difference?”
It took only half the drive home for my daughter to remember how much she liked Marshall. She sang him a song from music class, offered her room in case he got scared (he politely declined), and pulled him outside to show him the cactus garden as soon as we reached the house. They talked through dinner to the point that I had to remind her to eat. Sierra also insisted that Marshall be part of the bedtime routine, which involved a bath, two books, tooth brushing, and even demanding that Marshall be the one to take her to the bathroom to sit on the potty one last time. It was embarrassing to have my grown-ass friend dragged into potty training, but he was super patient and had clearly adopted some of the respectful parenting tactics that I tried to do.
“I should have brought her a book,” Marshall whispered to me as we exited Sierra’s room.
I shook my head with a smile. “She’s still enjoying the ones you sent her last week.”
He shrugged, which brought my attention to those broad, firm shoulders. “Closest I have to a niece, so…”
Fucking sweetheart.
We shared a rye, just one finger with my fancy-ass ice spheres, before Marshall called it a night.
“I’m sorry,” he yawned, “but if I don’t sleep now I’ll fall asleep in the middle of my keynote.”
“Keynote speaker!” I toasted him with my nearly empty lowball. “My friend is a big damn deal.”
“A little damn deal,” he corrected me, “but either way. Bed.”
Even though I could have happily talked with him for another hour or five, I waved him away. If I was going to prove…if he could see…whoops. I redirected my train of thought. Marshall needed sleep and I should support him. It was the kind thing to do. I showed him the quirks of the guest bath and pointed out the towels and spare toilet paper.
“How worried are you about me clogging your toilet?” Marshall asked sarcastically.
I turned back to him at the doorway. “Promise me that you’ll stay away from dairy,” I solemnly replied, and Marshall swiped at me.
“Hey,” he said, changing the subject away from massive poops, “didn’t you say Jeron and Shayla had invited us over?”
I nodded, pleased that he’d remembered them, but answered, “They had an exposure at a concert, so they’re quarantined for another few days.”
“Oh. Hope they’re okay.”
“Yeah. Sorry we couldn’t go out; folks are not really concerned about safety here and I don’t want to bring Sierra into a restaurant.”
“All good. I feel kinda weird in crowds now. This conference is going to be a plunge into unfamiliar waters, so it’ll be nice to not be around a bunch of strangers at night.”
“I’ll bet. At least everyone is vaxxed, right?”
Marshall seemed so tired, braced on the doorframe with his hands in his pockets. At that moment I just wanted to give him a big old hug and a peck on the cheek. But his head followed me when I leaned in, so I ended up kissing his mouth.
He blinked. “Okay.”
“Sorry; shit. I don't know,” I stammered. Damn my impulsivity. “I wasn't really thinking. You looked exhausted.” Suddenly I could feel my heartbeat in my ears.
Marshall raised his eyebrows. “You kissed me because I look like shit?”
“No, it wasn't…I'm sorry. I made it weird. I was actually going for your cheek,” I finished lamely. “It's a dad reaction.”
He covered a yawn as he shook his head. “It's fine, Cooper. I'll see you in the morning.”
Shit. Shit, shit, shit. “Right. G’night.”
I couldn’t sleep for another hour. Marshall’s lips were so goddam soft.
Unfortunately for me, my daughter decided to crawl in bed with me well before my alarm was supposed to go off, and woke me with her wriggling.
“Sweetheart, can you show me how high you can count in a whisper?” I tried desperately.
Sierra was too excited for my clever diversion tactics. She got to twenty-eight before she tapped me on the face. “Daddy. Hey. Look at me.”
“My alarm hasn’t gone off yet, sweetheart.”
“Okay, I’ll go ask Uncle Marshall.”
I scooped her up before her feet could hit the floor. “If you leave Uncle Marshall alone I’ll let you watch—” I glanced at my phone “four whole Bluey stories.”
Sierra gasped. “Four?!”
“Go get your head phones, quietly.” The words were only halfway off before my daughter had scampered off. She returned moments later with a flying leap, knocking the headphones painfully against my face.
“Sorry Daddy! Can we, um, can we start with the, um, sheep dog one?”
Sierra got through one story before she had to go potty, and then we were off. I might as well get breakfast going.
It didn’t matter if Marshall wasn’t impressed by my domesticity, my therapist would remind me. But part of my still thought it would help. We weren’t kids anymore. He didn’t have to remind me to clean up after myself. I had curtains and bedsheets and I could cook. Marshall might notice that I had grown since the last time he and I lived together.
And it was fine if he just wanted to be friends.
Before I could fully wind myself into an anxious thought spiral, my friend made his way into the kitchen dressed in his Keynote Speaker attire. Navy suit, lighter blue shirt with a darker silk tie against his brown skin—Don’t be a pervert when your daughter is right here.
“Look at Uncle Marshall in his fancy suit!” I told Sierra.
She glanced up from her cereal at her favorite boy. Her dark eyes widened; my company tries to be very chill and Silicon Valley, so she'd never seen a man dressed in a suit this early.
“You look like a businessman,” she told him in awe.
“Businessperson,” I corrected her.
Marshall laughed and kissed the top of Sierra’s head as he walked past. “Thank you. I'm a person doing business today.”
I couldn’t fault my daughter for being awestruck. Marshall had always been a handsome guy, but in a suit and tie he looked like a storybook assassin conjured up by a coven of horny moms. The only downside was that the jacket covered his ass, which was my favorite part after his face.
“Can Uncle Marshall take me to, um, to school today?” Sierra asked. What was this? A man wears slacks and suddenly I’m chopped liver.
“We both are taking you to school, because I'm driving both of you around,” I told the little traitor, tapping the table by her bowl so she would remember what she was supposed to be doing.
Sierra looked disappointed. “Can Uncle Marshall walk me to my class?”
Marshall snorted when I frowned. “I’d be happy to,” he said, “but your dad probably has to come, too, otherwise they'll think I kidnapped you. It's just for safety, because the school doesn't know me.”
“Because, um, because you have, um, you have bad guy hair,” my daughter said with a knowing nod. Sierra let us eat for a moment while she thought about that problem. “Daddy, can you tell the school that, um, Uncle Marshall is your friend?”
“How about we both walk you in?” Marshall suggested.
“No I, I want you to do it,” she replied, poking him in the arm.
Marshall looked at me for help.
“School rules, sweetheart,” I said, trying to sound sad. “I have to be there.”
Sierra pouted until we reached the parking lot. She was so proud to hold Marshall’s hand, dragging him into the school and introducing him to everyone she could. I signed in our guest with the front office and pretended not to notice when both the administrators came out of the office to get a look at my friend. Even with a mask on and no hair Marshall looked ready to steal your girl.
Usually my outgoing child greeted her teacher with a hug, but today Ms. Lambrusco received a high-five so that Sierra could keep hold of Marshall.
“Uncle Marshall is my daddy today,” she declared. “He’s dropping me off.”
Ouch. “Marshall is an old friend,” I explained.
“He’s my favorite boy,” Sierra added. Her teacher nodded encouragingly, giving Marshall an appraising look that made bristle a little bit. Calm down; she’s a nice person who happens to have eyes, I told myself.
Favorite Boy Marshall tried to help out. “I think your daddy stays your daddy all the time.”
Sierra shut that down real quick. “No, you're my daddy until you go home.”
“That's not how it works, sweetheart,” I said.
“Okay, you're both my daddy.” When she saw me about to protest she added quickly, “Josie has, um, two moms. It's normal.”
Her teacher sounded like she was trying not to laugh. “It is normal, that's true.”
I crouched down to Sierra’s level. “Josie’s moms are married. Uncle Marshall and me are not.” I could see my daughter’s mind working and interrupted whatever solution she was about to come up with. “Uncle Marshall needs to go to work. Show me you love me and get to class.”
I got a fist bump. Marshall got a hug, a kiss on the cheek, plus my daughter whispered something in his ear before she let him go.
“What did she say to you?” I asked as soon as we were out of earshot.
Marshall glanced at me, eyes crinkling. “She has life plans for me.”
“It’s just because you look like an ad for suits today. Even Ms. Lambrusco wanted some.” I made a pussycat growling noise.
“You’re full of…” he trailed off as he glanced at our surroundings.
I chortled as we signed out of the school and exited.
“Shit,” Marshall removed his mask to finish his sentence.
I pretended to brush lint off his lapel. “I’m not the one looking fly on a Wednesday.”
He knocked my hand away but smiled reluctantly. “This is how people with grown-up jobs dress.”
I shrugged, pulling my mask down. “If you want me to start calling you ‘sir’ I’ll do it,” I told him. “The power of the suit compels me.”
“Please don’t,” Marshall laughed.
“Yes, sir. I mean, no, sir. Sorry, sir.”
“Go away.”
“Right away, sir.”
“Cut it out, Cooper.”
“Sir, I can’t help it, sir! Related: you might need to drive because I’mma be too distracted by your fine self to watch the road.”
“Okay, you’re done.”
I managed to drive fifteen minutes to Marshall’s conference without changing the subject. I’d made him blush twice.
“Where’s my hug and kiss goodbye?”
“It’s at home with everything else I don’t need today.” He glanced at me and added, “Plus, you got one yesterday.”
Cute. "That was an appetizer. Now I want the full French course.” I wiggled my eyebrows suggestively.
He laughed but gave me a funny look. “Coop, are you…hitting on me?”
I hadn’t thought of it in such deliberate terms, but yeah. “Like I said, the suit compels me.” He looked like he was about to dismiss me so I opted to push my luck. “And your pretty brown eyes. Them luscious lips. The jaw of a superhero. And your strapped bod. Those perky little nips hiding in your curly, lush chest hair.”
Marshall looked like a beet in a fine suit. “Okay, you’re done,” he laughed, embarrassed.
“And you’re so smart, and you’re caring, and loyal, and you got a good D.”
He got out of the car with a massive groan instead of a goodbye.
“And an ass like a Koosh Ball wrapped in steel. Everybody wants a piece!” I yelled through the open window. Marshall subtly flipped me off.
It’s a miracle I got a single thing done that day. Every twenty minutes or so I’d pick up my phone to see if Marshall had texted me. Then I’d think about asking if Sierra’s mom could take her for the night, and then immediately chastise myself for being a selfish asshole. Why should I interrupt Sierra’s schedule, tough as it already was for her to handle it, so that I could get it in with my best friend? And then I’d think about Marshall, and how he woke up in my arms that morning after we fucked, and how calmly he’d snuggled into my chest after hitting snooze on his phone. I wanted that feeling again, so bad it hurt a little. So I’d pick my phone up again, and the cycle would repeat.
When I pulled into the school pick-up line that afternoon I saw a familiar face. My ex-wife glared at me as I got out of my car.
“What are you doing here, Nicole?”
She flipped her long hair over her shoulder. “I texted you.”
“You didn’t.” I checked my phone for good measure, but nope, no text. So I hadn’t accidentally texted her about giving me a night off parenting to fuck my friend. Good.
“Oh. Well, I guess it didn’t send. Ben is treating us to dinner.”
The fuck he is. “You’re not supposed to do this when I have Sierra. And we discussed going to restaurants.”
Nicole rolled her eyes. “We’re getting takeout; relax. Do you know how hard it is to date when you have a kid?”
“Yes.”
“Well, it’s worse for a woman. And Ben is a really great guy, and I think Sierra will like him.”
“It’s my fucking week!”
Nicole lowered her voice. “Don’t fucking yell at me—”
“Sorry, I—”
“You agreed to be flexible,” she cut me off. “Just be grateful that I’m not asking you to take an extra day so I can get it in.”
Something about hearing my own thoughts out of Nicole’s mouth pissed me off. I threw my arms wide in frustration. “I would love an extra day!”
“Stop yelling—”
“Sorry.”
“It’s not a competition. It’s just that Ben is wanting to get serious and I want Sierra to meet him first.”
“Why tonight? Marshall’s in town and we’ve been planning on dinner.” At Nicole’s irritated eye roll I tried pleading. “C’mon, Nicky, Sierra’s been really excited about this. It’s unfair to Ben if she’s already in a bad mood, right? Just go for breakfast tomorrow or something. Marshall has to get to the airport at 7, so you could pick her up early.”
“Um, Ben has an actual job, so he can’t just drop shit to go to breakfast on a weekday.”
Don’t say it don’t say it don’t say it. “If it was a priority then you both would make time.”
I wanted to kick myself.
Judging by Nicole’s flared nostrils, she wanted to kick me, too. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” she growled through clenched teeth.
“Mommy-Daddy!” Sierra’s cherubic squeal came from the school doors. She dashed to us, dinosaur backpack bouncing on her back. I got a hug, then Nicole did. Sweet girl. “Mommy, are you coming to eat with Uncle Marshall and me?”
Nicole crouched to Sierra’s level. “No, lil’ monkey, you and I are going to meet Ben.” Did she really just fucking lay it out like that?
“I’m not a monkey, I’m a T-Rex!”
If I were a smarter man I would have figured out how to contradict Nicole without shit-talking her to our daughter. I would have done better than to apologize to Sierra while coaxing her into Nicole’s car, trying to convince us both that this was a good idea. My daughter, nobody’s fool, immediately threw a fit.
“I don’t, uh, wanna eat with, uh, Ben; I wanna eat, uh, with, uh, Uncle Marshall!” Sierra wailed, fat tears rolling down her face. She pushed my head away when I tried to kiss her cheek.
“He’ll still be here when you get home, sweetheart,” I reminded her as I shut the car door.
Nicole frowned at me. “We talked about this, Coop.”
I gritted my teeth. “She’s been fixated on him for three years; this isn’t new. It was your idea to invite him for Christmas, anyway.”
Sierra yelled at us through Nicole’s open door. “I’m! Not! Happy!”
My ex poked her head into the car. “I understand, Miss T-Rex. Thank you for using your words. Your snacks are in the cup holder if you want them. I promise that Uncle Marshall will be awake when you get back to Daddy’s house.” Nicole then ushered me away from the vehicle and made that face, the one that meant I was about to get an earful. “You’re supposed to be helping me—”
“Get her used to your new boyfriend?” I interrupted sharply. “I don’t give a shi- care about him. You met him, like, two weeks ago. I can’t believe you’re already introducing him to her.”
“He’s a really good guy, Cooper! And it’s been at least two months.”
“You barely know him!” The other parents were starting to give us looks, so I lowered my voice. “I just think it would be easier for Sierra and you if you picked another night. So she’s not pining for ‘Daddy Two’ while some poor bastard is trying to win her over. I wish you had thought about the timing.”
Now Nicole looked like she was ready to burst into tears. “I can’t believe you think I’m such a bad mom!” she exclaimed, shoving past me to get in the car.
“No, that’s not—”
“Goodbye, Cooper.”
The car door slammed, Sierra bawling even louder than before, and I waved helplessly while Nicole drove out of the parking lot. One of the moms shrugged at me empathetically as she ushered her own kids into her minivan.
Marshall showed up right as I was angrily pulling a tray of stuffed peppers from the oven.
“What’d they do wrong?” he greeted me, eyeing the vegetables on the counter.
“Huh? Hi. Oh, uh, nothing. Nicole showed up at pick-up to take Sierra to dinner. With her new boyfriend.”
He leaned his hip against the island, surprisingly close to me. “Is that allowed?”
“Kinda? Fuckin’ shared custody, man, but Sierra was upset and I let Nicole manipulate me again, and at the time time I feel guilty because I had debated getting a sitter tonight so you and I could go out after dinner, anyway, so even though she did it the wrong way Nicole did help me out.”
“That sounds complicated,” Marshall said carefully.
“And it’s like, what the fuck is wrong with me,” I ranted while I plated the peppers with mixed grains, “because I think I’m jealous, maybe! Not jealous because I want to be with her—hand me the chimichurri and the crema, please—because I don’t. Like, thank God we split. It’s more like I’m watching someone play with the toy I put down, and even if I didn’t want it anymore that toy is the mother of my kid.”
Marshall nodded. “Sure.” His expression said that he didn’t get it, but he was trying.
“No, I mean…ugh.”
“Are you trying to say that you thought you’d be more mature about it?” he asked.
“Yeah, like it feels really middle school. I didn’t realize it was a competition until I couldn’t be like, ‘Actually, I was gonna do the same thing.’” Angrily whisking the chimichurri and crema together I muttered, “You know, I shoulda just fucking told her that I was going to tell Sierra about you and me.”
Marshall straightened up. “What?”
“Nicole would have lost her fucking mind.”
Marshall shook his head with a laugh. “The shit that comes out of your mouth, man.”
I pointed the dripping whisk in his face. “Don’t have kids with someone who fights dirty,” I advised.
“Got it.”
“In fact, don’t have kids at all,” I continued, determined to shake off this bad mood. “Move here and be Daddy Two to my kid, seeing as how Sierra likes you best and I’d much rather co-parent with you anyway.”
“That escalated quickly,” Marshall chuckled. “I don’t know if you could handle me on the daily.” He tugged my hair flirtatiously, then looked immediately embarrassed for it. He was so fucking cute.
“I’ve done it before and I’d do it again in a heartbeat,” I replied, realizing in the moment how not joking I was. God, if Marshall and I were in the same city…
He laughed it off, saying, “You would have liked any roommate who cleaned up after you.”
“I got better!”
“I see that.”
“Okay, so I hired someone,” I confessed to Marshall’s immediate guffaws. “And she’s great, and I’m learning a lot from her.”
“Sure.”
“Did you know that you can clean grout? Fuckin’ wild.”
“I sure did.”
I smacked at his arm and Marshall darted out of reach around the kitchen island.
“Enough about me. Tell me about this keynote speaker business.”
Marshall helped me bring dinner to the table while he talked, and I swear I was listening because he said it went well, but…there’s all this stuff that I’d heard people talk about before—people who were attracted to men—that I hadn’t payed attention to. I’d hear how sexy it was to watch a man take off a suit jacket and roll up his sleeves. Or the muscle that flexed when a man clenched his teeth. The appeal of a smirk. Every time I’d think, More for you, because I don’t get it. So it felt a little crazy to have Marshall, the friend I’ve known since literal childhood, making me feel funny in the pants just because he took his tie off and unbuttoned his shirt a little.
At least now I could say for sure that it wasn’t just the alcohol last time.
Could Marshall say that, though? Was I misinterpreting closeness for attraction?
“Goddam, Cooper, this is fucking delicious,” my friend exclaimed after several bites. “I didn’t know you had it like that.”
I liked that he liked one of my two grown-up recipes. “Mm.” He hadn’t kissed me back last night, even if it was an accident on my part. Should I have read into that?
Marshall paused and looked at me. “You okay, man?”
Oh, what the hell. “So I’ve been seeing a counselor—I told you that, right?—ever since Nicole and I split up.”
Marshall fiddled with his fork. “Yeah, you said. Is that…good?” God bless him for trying.
“Apparently,” I grinned, “and you’re not gonna believe this, I have a hard time connecting with people because I turn everything into a joke.”
Marshall snorted. “How shocking. I am shocked. Look at me sitting here in shock.”
I waved my hand. “Yeah yeah. But he told me to start practicing ‘vulnerable’ honesty with the people I trust.”
My friend looked suspicious of me. “What does that mean? I feel like you’re setting me up for something.”
“No! Okay, maybe,” I admitted over Marshall’s laughter. “I just have to learn how to get my feelings hurt without, like, imploding or whatever.”
“Oh, shit. Did I hurt your feelings?”
“No. But I’ll give you the chance.”
Marshall looked baffled. “Oh, uh…”
“And know,” I put a hand up, “that if you’re not into what I’m about to say, I will respect it and I won’t be all weird. Eventually.”
Marshall made a face. “I might be the one who feels weird. But yeah, man. Let’s practice vulnerable honesty over these stuffed peppers and quinoa.”
Well, here goes nothing. “I want to sleep with you again.”
Marshall laughed once in visible disbelief, then his expression sobered. “Seriously?”
“Whole thing,” I pressed on, feeling like a dumbass. “Like, take you to bed, do a bunch of fun nasty shit to each other, and then cuddle you. I know I complained about Nicole showing up, but I also don’t want to miss this opportunity.”
“Uh…” he said.
“Two reasons. Number one: I really liked it last time, because you fucked my brains out—”
“You’d mentioned,” Marshall muttered, blushing a little bit. I really liked that I could make him blush.
“And you came a whole bunch, even during the second round which I can barely remember. Number two,” I said, holding up my fingers before I realized that I was shaking a little, “I think we started something that, you know, we need to see through.”
“Huh?”
“Hear me out. Maybe there’s more to what we did than just fuck on your couch.”
Marshall gestured with his water glass. “Sure. You also blew me.”
“Ha ha, yes yes. I’ll do it again if you want.”
He seemed the most shocked by that offer. We sat in silence for a moment.
“You're the one who said it wasn't a big deal,” Marshall quietly reminded me.
“Sure, but…as hungover as I was when I woke up the next morning, I stayed in bed an extra hour because it felt so nice to hold you while you slept. And I had to pee, like, so fuckin’ bad.”
“I wasn't asleep,” Marshall said quietly.
Damn. Damn. “Okay, so you were awake. Didn't it just, you know, feel right?”
“I think we're too old to not have already known if we're gay, Coop.”
I scrubbed my hands over my face. “Is that what's the matter? You thought you knew yourself better? Marshall, I'm not saying that this isn't weird.”
“It's very fucking weird.”
“Right! But also it's fine to realize that maybe when I was drunk and saying anything to bust a nut, like, there was some stuff that, you know, was, uh…”
He raised an eyebrow. “A kernel of truth in the burnt popcorn bag of smooth talk?”
“You took the words right out of my mouth,” I laughed at his absurd phrasing, and Marshall chuckled. “What I mean is this: maybe I didn't know shit, and what actually happened was that we opened a new, kind of scary, exciting chapter in our friendship. Relationship. Whatever.”
Marshall shook his head. “I don't know, man.”
I spread my arms in frustration. “Obviously we made some strange choices under the influence of alcohol, but I don't see why we have to keep pretending like nothing happened.”
Shrugging, Marshall started clearing the table.
“Don't do that.” And then I added, “Please,” because of therapy.
“I'm not doing anything,” he lied, avoiding eye contact as he turned on the faucet in the sink. “If you leave these tonight they're going to be all so in the morning.”
For a long minute I watched in frustrated silence.
Fine. If he refused to engage, as my former marriage counselor would have said, I would try a different tactic. Walking over to him, I placed a hand on his neck. Marshall didn't acknowledge it, so I stepped in behind him. He washed dishes. I wrapped my arms around his chest, leaning my full body against his back. Marshall washed dishes. When I kissed the back of his neck he spoke.
“Cooper.”
But that was it. He didn't say stop, so I kept going. I trailed my mouth down the vertebrae, then to his right shoulder, then across to the left. Because we were pretty much the same height I had to stand on my toes to reach his jaw.
“Prickly,” I murmured against his skin. Marshall shivered, but kept at his task. It felt good to touch him, so I put my head on his shoulder and let my hands roam. “You smell nice.”
Marshall chuckled. “I smell like your soap; of course you like it, narcissist.”
“Good point. I smell nice.”
He laughed, and jumped a bit when I slid my palms over his ribs—Marshall has always been ticklish—to pull his shirt out of his pants. I noticed that his vigorous scrubbing of the plates slowed down when I started undoing the buttons from the bottom. Marshall seemed to come by a firm six-pack easily; I was always struggling to keep up. His tensed under my fingers.
“Do you want these dishes done or not?” Marshall asked, shifting his weight.
“I have a dishwasher,” I answered. I wanted to kiss him so bad, just wrap myself around him like an octopus eating a mollusk. So I told him that.
“Aren’t you at least a little embarrassed!”
“Nope,” I replied immediately, my hands still busy. “I’d ‘glorp glorp’ onto your face so fast; leave my little tentacle rings all over you…”
That made him laugh, which was always a good sign. Hoping it was endearing instead of annoying (Nicole had never liked it) I put my chin on his shoulder. Marshall kind of, I guess, relaxed? He shifted his weight to make the position more comfortable.
I snuggled as close as I could. “Doesn’t this all kind of make sense?”
“Nope,” Marshall mimicked me, but then he did this cute little inhale when I unzipped his pants. Like, where had he thought I was going with this?
I pressed my lips to the soft spot under his ear while slipping my hands into his underwear. Hard muscle, then curly hair, then soft cock and full balls all for me to play with. Marshall kept starting to say something, but then I’d touch him some more and he’d shut up.
“I jack off to you now.”
“What—ah—what are you talking about?” he asked. Poor guy couldn’t concentrate with my hands on his dick.
Freeing one hand, I turned his chin so we could look at each other. “Any time. Every time. I’m remembering you and imagining what we’ll do next.”
Marshall had never looked so uncomfortable. Fucking cute. “Oh, uh, I guess,” he stammered, turning red, “thank you?”
“If I called you for phone sex, would you do it?” I asked, pressing my groin to his ass.
“Um…” Marshall leaned into me as I teased his tip. Fuck, he was so pretty when he was turned on.
“Let’s say no video,” I pressed on. “Would you?”
Marshall braced his hands on the lip of the sink as my hands drifted lower. “I, uh…”
“What if I asked you to send me a pic?”
“Like a dick pic?” Marshall laughed. “I am not having permanent record of my junk on anyone’s phone.”
“Do you think about it?” I asked, starting to feel desperate. “Are you just humoring me?”
“No! I just…no, I’m not humoring you. I’m confused, Coop.” Marshall turned his attention back to the dishes. “This is weird.”
“Good weird or bad weird?”
“Both! Isn’t that the definition of weird?!” He must have caught my expression from the corner of his eye, because he quickly corrected, “Okay, not bad weird. I spent a lot of time trying not to think about it.”
“For the friendship?”
Marshall nodded. “For the friendship.”
“No other reasons?” I squeezed his growing shaft for emphasis.
He grunted in response. “Not really. Well, also because I thought Sierra would be here the whole time.”
She was a pretty effective mood dampener.
“So,” I asked, “would it be so bad if we were into each other?”
Seeming to think for a moment, Marshall answered, “Not bad, I just wouldn’t know how to, like, talk about it.”
“If it were you, I would be proud to tell people,” I said, biting his ear.
Marshall turned all the way around, finally, putting his plump ass in my hands. “Are you serious?”
“As a heart attack. You’re a fucking catch.”
“You have a kid.”
Now is not the time to squeeze the juicy cheeks, I reminded myself. “Who already likes you better than me, so that’s a good start.”
He laughed at that. “It’d be strange at though, like, family stuff. Everyone knows all our history!”
“Marshall. Who gives a flying fuck what anyone else thinks? What do you want right now? Are you telling me to back off because you're scared or because you actually don't want to be with me?” My hands mostly accidentally squeezed for emphasis. God, the ass in my hands was a gift. “Please tell me if it’s a fat no thanks. Is this some lopsided, unrequited shit on my part?”
His mouth opened, shut, opened again, and closed. Marshall shook his head and grumbled, “It’s not a no thanks.”
I leaned in and kissed him. “You want to make it a yes please?”
He sighed the same way he always did when he thought I was talking out of my ass. “Maybe we should be drunk.”
Not the enthusiastic reaction I had wanted, but okay.
“I can do this sober.” I hoped I wasn’t lying. “Look, I don’t want to rush an important decision for you, but…we have less than two hours until a four-year-old is running around here again, cockblocking us.”
“Your seduction tactics need work,” he informed me flatly.
I grinned. “Talk to me when my hand isn’t already down your pants.”
Marshall laughed kinda reluctantly, but then he finally kissed me. Was this the first time he’d initiated and not just kissed me back? He definitely was the one who leaned in this time, pressing his full lips to mine, parted just enough to wet my own mouth a little. The warm fuzzy place inside me filled a little closer to bursting.
“Fine, you dirty bastard. And you should’ve shaved,” he said playfully. “Last time my chin was red raw for three days.”
I took his jaw in my hand and shook his face a little. “Bullshit. Besides, you left hickeys on me like a goddam high schooler.”
“I did not.”
“Yeah, you did! Right here!” I leaned in and sucked his neck like a vampire.
“Ow!” Marshall laughed.
“Exactly. And you left fucking claw marks all over my back.”
“I don’t have nails, though! Did anyone notice?”
Just so we didn’t get too distracted, I pulled his trousers down his hips for better access to his ass. “Every-fuckin’-body noticed, Marshall. I couldn’t go in the pool at my gym because of ‘open wounds.’”
That made him laugh too much to continue, so I shoved him towards my bedroom. “It’s not that funny. Go in and get ready for me. I’ll finish the dishes.”
Marshall cocked his head at me, holding onto his waistband with one hand. “What do you mean, ‘Get ready?’”
I flicked the dish towel at his ass. “We’re too old to fuck in the kitchen when I have a giant bed. All the supplies are in my bathroom cabinet.”
Way back when Nicole had decided that she wanted to try anal we did our research. Marshall and I were adults, so we could have adult sex and be sober and be safe, even if it gave him enough time to back out of a third fuck. Come to think of it, did we ruin his couch?
“Well, don’t be too long,” he said a little awkwardly, and then rolled his eyes at the big dumb grin on my stupid face.
When I raced into the bedroom Marshall was already naked, covering his half-hard cock with his hands.
“God uh-damn you got a body on you,” I declared, taking in his strong shoulders and thick thighs. His curly chest hair couldn’t hide the contour of his plump pecs and ridged abs, trailing off between whatever those sex muscles are called. Marshall blushed; even the top of his shorn head turned rosy.
“I’m really fucking nervous, Coop,” he confessed.
“Baby, you’re in good company,” I said cheerfully as I stripped. “Feel how fast my heart is beating.”
Joining him on the edge of the bed, I placed his hand on my chest. Marshall was trembling like me, but he visibly relaxed when he felt my pounding heartbeat.
“The fuck are we doing,” he chuckled. “Two grown-ass men acting like teenagers.”
“Oh, as a teenager I would have jizzed my pants long before this point,” I replied with a noisy kiss to his jaw.
“Oh my god, remember that time at Kevin Hue’s party, Sarah Griffin gave you a lap dance and you sprung a boner?” Marshall asked, getting sidetracked again.
“I expect you to take the role of Sarah for my birthday this year.”
“Your birthday is over.”
“Next year,” I corrected. “I am putting in my request now.”
“Hey, um, I promise I’m not getting distracted, but,” Marshall looked shyly back at my bed, “can we put some towels down, first?”
I made a big show of it, calling Marshall “milord” and making him laugh. “A towel for milord’s beautifully rounded rump.” I flicked out the fabric dramatically.
“Thankee, goodly peasant,” he replied, moving lube onto one of the freshly laid towels.
I bowed low. “If it please milord, might this lowly peasant stuff his humble mouth hole full with milord’s most excellent turgid member?”
“Turgid! So gross, man,” Marshall laughed as he sat on the bed, “but yes.”
Kneeling in front of him felt like worshiping at the feet of true deity. Gazing on him was a blessing. I kissed his big cock—Marshall was both a shower and a grower—and held it gently as I put my lips to the insides of his thighs and the top of his pelvis.
“Every time,” I started, and Marshall laughed.
“‘Every?’ You mean every this-and-one-other time?”
I looked up at his handsome face. “I mean,” I continued, “This is the fourth time I’ve tried to get you hard and it has worked each time; I’m so goddam relieved that your dick reacts.”
Marshall covered his eyes. “That’s very embarrassing.”
“No, it’s not.”
“This whole thing is embarrassing,” he amended, glaring at me, but that just meant he watched as I swallowed his cock. He slipped smoothly past my lips. I liked the feeling of the spongy glans against the roof of my mouth. Marshall’s dick was too large for me to really get it farther than the back of my tongue, but he seemed to really like it when I focused on the head, anyway.
“Fuck, Cooper,” he groaned when I tried to swallow him down to the root. I pulled off before I choked, and Marshall propped himself on his elbows while I caught my breath.
“Do you enjoy doing that?” he asked.
I gave the glans another lick before I answered. “Yup.”
“Really? Why?” He must have expected a different answer.
I shrugged. “For one, you’re attached to it. For two, you have a legit nice piece, and,” I added because I liked how bright he was blushing, “I like making you feel good.”
Marshall covered his eyes again. “I ‘feel’ like you’re turning this ‘vulnerable honesty’ into a weapon.”
Now was probably not the time to tell Marshall that I wished he’d try just being honest with himself. This was the second time that he’d let me go down on him. We were about to have sex for the third time. We’d been best friends for our whole lives—this didn’t mean nothing.
“We can switch if you want,” I offered. “Do you want to fuck me instead?” Not that I was prepared, but still.
My friend shook his head. “No, not yet. I’m not ready, I don’t think.”
“What do you mean?” I pressed.
“It’s just…you’re good at it, and also I don’t want to hurt you.”
I grinned as Marshall flushed down to his chest. “So I’m good?”
“Shut up. Are you seriously still wearing your smart watch?”
“Trying to close my exercise goal.” I sucked him hard, as far down as I could, then pulled off with a pop. Marshall’s stomach flexed. “Like, how good am I though?”
“If you‘d been terrible I wouldn’t be just, you know, handing my ass over to you,” he replied sharply. “Suck my balls.”
“Say please,” I ordered.
“Please and thank you,” Marshall said immediately as he shoved my head playfully. “Oh god, yes.”
He was louder this time, maybe because he didn’t have to worry about neighbors, and I tried to make him holler. I should have practiced; I wanted to deep-throat him so bad but I kept gagging. Marshall didn’t mind. He wiped the tears away from my eyes like a benevolent demigod. He bit his full lower lip whenever I focused on the tip to give my jaw a break.
Nicole had accused me of being selfish in bed, and it had sucked to admit that she was right. I would eat her out as a downpayment for what I wanted, making sure she came because it was the right thing to do but not because I especially wanted her to feel good. Blowing Marshall was so different. It was exciting when he fell back on the bed with a groan and I thought maybe he was close. Watching his brow furrow and his abs tense turned me on. If he came in my mouth again I would be fucking grateful.
“Wait, wait wait, Cooper,” Marshall grabbed my hair and tugged me off his cock. “Stop, please. Please. I only have one in me.”
I made a motion to take him back in my mouth, but maybe because—did I like him pulling my hair? Marshall’s grip tightened.
“You can do two in a row.” I complained. Was I begging for cum? “I’ve seen it. I’ve sucked it.”
“That was a fluke,” he replied, and to cut me off added, “and we can’t test it out now. We’re on a deadline.”
I started to protest, “But I can take—”
Marshall shook my head by the hair. Okay, I did like it. “The prostate’s easier to find with an erection, my guy.”
My eyes widened. “You studied?”
His lips twitched. “I practiced.”
“Holy shit,” I exclaimed, clambering to join him on the bed. “That just made me hard as fuck; check it.”
In another first, Marshall reached out and grabbed by cock through my boxer briefs. I froze.
“Damn, that’s all it takes?” he teased me, squeezing lightly. “It wasn’t sexy; I was literally squatting in the shower and trying not to rip my sphincter. And I never came like that, so I don’t know what you did last time. Maybe I was more fucked up than we thought.”
If I breathed he might let go, and if he moved I might humiliate myself by jizzing immediately. Did he actually…Marshall had planned for us to hook up again. It wasn’t just me being pushy. He had practiced taking my dick, and now he was asking me to fuck him instead of getting him off once.
Marshall rubbed his thumb up the side of my erection. “Cooper. What is happening,” my friend chuckled.
“Sorry; my brain shorted out,” I said as I gently removed his hand. “I’ve seriously never been this excited to have sex and I almost embarrassed myself.”
Marshall laughed in disbelief. “Just now?”
“I’ve been worried for two long years that you maybe weren’t as, you know, into it as me!” I defended myself, skimming my underwear off and stretching out next to him. “So add intense relief plus excitement plus the mental image of you fucking yourself with a me-sized dildo—”
Marshall groaned.
“—with the goal of taking my cock, and you got yourself a 1-minute man special.”
“Can’t it be that I just wanted another prostate massage and nothing more?” he asked.
I pinched his nipple and he smacked me in return. “No, because if that's all then you could have found someone back home. Or stuck with toys.”
“Fine,” Marshall groaned. “I admit it. I thought we might fuck again someday and got myself ready.”
“Ready to…say yes to me fucking you…because you liked the feeling and you liked that it was me.” I was being needy, but I couldn’t stop myself.
“Yes, I put time and money and sweat equity into getting ready for you, specifically, to fuck me. Is that what you want to hear?”
“Hell yeah, I’m gonna come.”
“Quick shot.”
I pushed him backwards a little hard. “Now I’m mad at you.”
“What? Why?”
“All that talk earlier about it not making sense when you fucking prepared? I’ve been freaking out about how to tell you that I like you,” I growled as I crawled over his body, “and you were just stringing me along.”
Marshall threw his arms over his face like a kid. Even if I was irritated with him, he was still a-fucking-dorable.
“Because I feel like I’m losing my goddam mind!” He exclaimed into his elbows. “Who buys a series of dildos for the first time at age twenty-nine? Just because of one time…”
So he bought them right after we fucked, is what I was hearing.
“Twice, technically.”
Only Marshall’s irritated, splayed hands indicated that he registered my interjection. “After a lifetime of thinking I was only into women! And I was trying not to be a fucking pervert while a child is running around, like, trying so hard not to think about you and me when I’m also being Uncle Marshall, but oh my god. Did I get, like, dickmatized by an actual childhood friend? I'm going insane, Cooper!”
“If I had a dollar…” I poured a little lube over my fingers and rubbed them together to warm it up. “I’m still a little mad, but I’m not putting all that hard work of yours to waste.” I held one of Marshall’s legs over my waist and with my free hand petted the area I intended to penetrate.
Marshall jumped a little. “It’s cold,” he mumbled shyly. It wasn’t, but I apologized anyway.
“I should have warned you that I was about to touch your asshole.”
He lowered his arms. “Well—”
“Whoopsie doodle!” I interrupted. And ta-dah, my index finger was in Marshall’s ass.
He inhaled sharply. “Oh, damn.”
“Sorry; should have warned you that I—”
“You ain’t sorry for shit,” Marshall cut me off, but since he was laughing I figured all was forgiven. He was so cute, being all awkward about having my finger, then multiple fingers, inside him. Marshall squirmed like I was probing all the way to his chest, then he pulled me down to kiss him so that I wouldn’t hear him whimper when I hit his prostate, but it didn’t matter because every time I stroked the little bump his grip in my hair would tighten. It made me want to be tender with him.
“You are,” I whispered between kisses, “fucking sexy to me.”
“Stop it,” Marshall said, blushing, which was especially cute considering I had three fingers in his ass and his left leg was wrapped around my back.
Using my thumb to tease his taint, I wiggled my fingers inside him. “I got a manicure for you,” I confessed over Marshall’s grunts. “I think the lady could tell why, because she told me that ‘rough hands can hurt.’”
He chuckled, “Wait until she gives you recommendations on butt plugs to worry about that. I’m ready.”
I propped myself up in surprise. “For a butt plug?!”
“For your cock, you idiot,” Marshall laughed as he eased my fingers out of his ass. “A human butt plug. Go wash those manicured fingers and get a condom.”
I couldn’t take it. “You,” I gave him a hard close-mouthed kiss. “Are so.” Another. “Fucking cute.” I hopped off the bed before he could swat me.
Marshall had rolled to his stomach and propped himself on my pillows by the time I got the rubber on. He’d also adjusted the towel, I noticed. Thoughtful bastard.
“You ready?” I asked as I settled behind him.
Marshall looked over his shoulder. “How mad would you be if I said no?” he teased.
I hadn’t noticed last time that he had a dusting of hair on his ass. So cute. Just one more thing I was learning about Marshall’s body. This time I watched as my cockhead kissed the tight ring of his asshole.
Marshall stopped me with a hand on my thigh. “Hang on—more lube and let me do it.”
“Fuck yeah,” I replied, grabbing the bottle from the covers to pour a generous amount on my dick. He really had studied.
“Hold it steady,” he ordered. Marshall braced himself on one hand while pulling a plump asscheek aside. He exhaled and sank onto me, just a little, but backed off. Holy shit. Marshall repeated the action, taking me further inside himself, little by little by little. My brain knew he was just trying to be careful, but my dick was convinced that he was going for tantric sex. After ages Marshall paused, halfway on my aching shaft, and positioned his elbows on the bed.
I groaned at the tight warmth enveloping my cock. “Marshall, I really love being in you.”
“Cooper, I really love keeping that kind of thought to myself,” he tightly retorted even as the back of his neck flushed.
I stroked his back. “Am I okay to move?”
“All clear,” he grunted.
The first withdrawal was a challenge—I’m sure the last time I popped in and out of his ass by accident, but I really didn’t want to hurt him now. Not too far, and then a slow controlled thrust until our balls touched; I was sweating already. Marshall put his head on his arms with a groan. I repeated the gentle motion while trying to read his body language. His clenched fists were the only sign that he might be uncomfortable, but when I thrust a third time Marshall made a sharp exhale.
“Are you making those noises because it feels bad?” I asked worriedly, leaning to kiss between his shoulder blades.
Marshall shook his head. “No I just…I fucking can’t believe I like getting fucked.”
Thank god. I grinned. “Maybe it’s just me.”
Marshall looked over his shoulder. “Maybe you should shut up and get to fucking.”
Oh hell yes. “Aye aye, captain,” I said obediently. My hips set a pace of their own, smacking Marshall’s juicy ass hard enough to make it jiggle. The heat, the feel of his body under my hands—I kissed his neck, his shoulders; biting some places, licking elsewhere. Marshall reached back to hold my thigh. Fuck, he was a sexy creature. The muscles of his back rippled when he moved against me, finding an angle that worked for him. I grasped his hips and put a foot on the bed, thrusting hard. A high-pitched noise came out of my friend.
“You still okay?” I asked without stopping.
Marshall sounded breathless. “When you do it right there it makes me jump.”
“Oh hell yes! Baby, I’ll fuck you so good you’ll feel like a goddam marionette.”
Marshall started laughing so hard that I feared that he’d lose his erection. Just in case there was any danger of it I picked up the pace. He turned his face to the side and pillowed his head on his arms. Pretty boy. His brow furrowed but his mouth opened; every other exhale was uhn or ah. I watched his waist work as he fucked back at me; the beautiful brawny working of muscles under skin. Sweat pooled at his spine.
“Cooper,” he panted. “Cooper.”
I kissed his back. Something clenched in my chest whenever Marshall said my name. “Yeah, baby?”
“It’s so good.”
I paused.
“What?” He opened his eyes and looked back at me. “What’s wrong?”
“Just need a break,” I grunted through my teeth. Marshall twisted his hips and I grabbed him. “Stay still for a second; I’m really trying not to come.”
Marshall slapped my hand away. “Are you thirteen?”
“Shut up! You don’t know how you feel inside!”
He snorted. “Aw, buddy, that sounds really tough for you.”
“It is!” I distracted myself by running my fingers over Marshall’s new fade. He shivered. “God, you’re so fucking hot.”
Marshall leaned backwards, inching himself further onto my cock.
Don’t come, don’t come yet, don’t come yet.
“How long a break do you need?” he asked slyly.
“Longer.”
Marshall managed to wriggle out from under me and then pushed me onto my back. I didn’t have time to form a question before Marshall had straddled me and sat all the way down on my cock. He grinned triumphantly.
“Don’t you fucking move,” I warned him.
“Think of baseball,” he suggested, wiggling a little.
I grabbed his sack with one hand, tugging until it would have been painful. “I’m trying really hard to last for your sake, pal.”
Marshall hissed through his teeth. “Ooh. Maybe I like that a little bit.”
“Do you?”
“Yeah.”
Tugging again, I heard his fingers curl into the sheets. “Uh oh. Have we awakened something in you?”
Marshall’s eyes squeezed shut. “I don’t know. Just fuck me, please.”
Holy fuck, but that was hot. I bucked into him, keeping a grip on his balls while I used the other to hold his waist. Screw trying to hold off; I wanted to coat this man’s insides with cum.
Marshall seemed to lose himself as we fucked. His muscles trembled and glistened with every thrust, and his dick, while not fully hard, drooled steadily into my belly button. He held my arms to stabilize himself while he bounced up and down, swallowing me with his juicy ass.
Something about the contrast of his smooth head and furry chest really did it for me.
“Holy shit, you’re so pretty.”
Marshall smiled a little, gracing me with a glance downward. “You just say that because I’m taking your dick,” he said as he shifted to rest his knees on the bed.
A little awkwardly, I pulled him down for a kiss. “It’s just you, baby. You’re a goddam specimen.”
His embarrassed smile was in contrast to his insistent hip movement. Holy shit that got me going. Like fucking a horny virgin or something.
I watched his face. “Are you still doing okay?”
“Fuck me, Cooper,” he ordered.
“You’re so fucking beautiful.”
“Fuck me hard.”
“Always.”
Our bodies crashed against each other with loud, wet sounds; the air felt thick with sweat and sex. Marshall rolled his hips, sucking my hard cock into him. He dug his fingers into my chest, grabbed my arms, my throat, my hair—he rode me like he didn’t care if I came, like he was using me, and it was fucking hot.
He was so pretty, he felt so good, I liked him so much, he squeezed me so tight—my vision blurred at the edges and my balls contracted.
“Shit, sorry, I’m coming. Shit shit shit—” The blank heat of climax washed over me as I bucked furiously, holding Marshall by the hips to fuck my load into him. The tight heat of his ass sucked me in as spurt after spurt leapt from my cock into his tight hole.
“Stay in me,” he begged, and I reached up to take over. Marshall braced himself on his fists, trembling violently as I jacked him onto my chest. Thick, milky cum spilled over my fist and Marshall cried out while I jerked his cock so fast my arm burned. He fell to the bed, shaking still, semen dribbling from his glans. I rolled to reach him but Marshall knocked my hand away and then curled into the fetal position.
“Oh, sorry.”
Shaking his head, my friend rubbed his face on the sheets. “You made…you made me…I almost…” Marshall to a big gulp of air and tried again. “You made me come like a bitch.”
“Really?” I got rid of the condom and wiped myself, watching his furrowed brow.
“Yeah.”
I wanted to cuddle him so bad. Instead I embraced the closest pillow. “Have you come like that with anyone else? With women?”
He shook his head again.
“That is fucking hot. If I hadn’t just come I would do it now.”
“My legs are shaking,” Marshall laughed weakly. He rolled onto his back, his dark brown eyes staring at the ceiling. “Can I tell you something without it being a big deal?”
“Sure,” I lied casually. Don’t touch him yet, I ordered my hands.
“I think…it’s not like sex was ever wrong before, because obviously it was good, but maybe when you’ve tried all you want to try with…” he waved a hand weakly “I mean, you’re in a different position—anal is anal, right?—I’m just saying that the different new thing is going to be more stimulating to the nervous system and then the brain, of course. It’s the newness.”
Poor Marshall was trying to make sense after coming like a bitch. I cuddled up to him.
“You’re also the best fuck I’ve ever had, so the feeling’s mutual.”
He lifted my chin to look me in the face. “That’s not what I said.”
“But I heard what you meant.”
Marshall rolled his eyes even as he brushed hair from my forehead. “You’re such a dick.”
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