Disclaimer: Yes, I own Degrassi. That's why I'm sitting in a farm town south of Denver posting this over the Internet. /sarcasm Okay, fine. I do not own Degrassi, or any related characters, settings, blah blah blah. If you really needed me to tell you that go shoot yourself in the foot.

Authors Note: I'm aware this is weird. It gets lemon-ish, then awkward, then kind of fluffy, then a bit lemon-ish again, then it goes back to a bit fluffy. The plot just wiggled it's way into my mind a few days ago and wouldn't leave. I would also like to point out that I realize that this is quite long. Please bear with me, and I hope it's worth it.

Marco moaned into the kiss, his arms tugging against the leather straps that hooked under the bed and held his wrists and ankles in place. Dylan's firm athletic body ground against his and the room must have reeked of the two men's sweat.

Marco hadn't been so sure bondage sex was a good way to end Dylan's last night in Canada in God knows how long...but he couldn't think about that now. No, Dylan had suggested this, and for now, Marco just wanted to be here. Admittedly, "here" wasn't a very pretty place, but Dylan was here, and that made it nice, even if not pretty.

Dylan pulled up, leaving Marco arching his neck into nothing.

Dylan smiled, but said nothing, and Marco let his head crash back to the pillows. Dylan's followed, kissing down his neck.

When Dylan reached the edge of Marco's neck, he bit down and paused for a moment while Marco gave another good pull on the wrist restraints without thinking about it.

Dylan went back to the task at hand, going slowly down the younger man's chest.

Marco held still. The restraints stopped him from doing much else. That was one of the things about this that Marco was less than found of; Dylan did everything, and Marco tended to feel more like he was just an object. His personality was simply along for the ride.

Almost as though sensing his thoughts, Dylan snaked an arm around Marco's back, and pulled him up into another kiss on the lips. Most of both other their weight was being held up on Dylan's knees and one arm, and as the leather cut lightly into Marco's skin, he wondered briefly how long Dylan could stay like that.

The thought was, however, very short-lived as Dylan's tongue moving around in his mouth pulled him back. Feeling powerless did not stop Marco's hormones from racing, so now that he had use of something—though that something was only his mouth—he was going to make it count.

Dylan's grip on Marco became tighter, and Marco felt fingernails dig into his side.

Dylan must not have heard the click as the door opened.

Marco tried to speak, but the sound turned jumbled and meaningless as Dylan continued to play with him.

Marco pulled his head off to the side.

Dylan frowned, but their third party remained speechless, so he kept looking at Marco.

"Dylan?" Marco said timidly, already waiting for the screaming to start.

"Yeah?" Dylan's face was a mixture of confusion and concern that Marco hated knowing he'd caused.

"Turn around slowly..."

The blond lowered Marco carefully back to the bed and did as he was told.

"Oh God..." Marco was relieved he couldn't see the look on his boyfriend's face, "Mister Del Rossi..."

"Marco..." His father breathed, "Dylan...?"

Dylan seemed to suddenly realize that they were both naked. He jumped up and pulled on his own bathrobe before grabbing Marco's and moving to give it to him.

As the full reality that this man was fucking his only child settled on Mr. Del Rossi and he regained movement of his body, he quickly grabbed the blond.

"Don't go near him right now!"

"I have to—"

"Don't!"

Dylan looked helplessly over at Marco and simply threw the bathrobe so that it covered him like an awkwardly shaped blanked across his waist.

"Dad," Marco said quickly, "I want—"

But Marco gave up as his father started yelling.

"Marco, how could you do this?! You swore this boy was just a friend! Less than that!"

Marco had to look away as his father seemed to be debating whether it was easier to look at him or look at the man who'd done this to him. Marco was certain he'd never been more disgusting in his father's eyes.

"Well, he's moving to Switzerland, and I thought—"

"You thought that this would make a good going away present?"

"Well," Dylan tried to explain, "We've actually done this before—"

::Dylan, what the Hell made you think that was going to make him feel better?::

Marco's father's hand flexed in a way that greatly worried Marco. His father had never hit him growing up, but it was a lot easier to feel guilt over hitting a child than it was to feel guilt over hitting the full-grown professional hockey player who took your son's virginity.

"For you," Marco's father said, "I have one question: How long has this been going on?"

"What exactly? Me and Marco sleeping together? Us going out? Us having..." He gestured toward the bed, "Us doing that..."

"You're going out?!"

"Yes..." Dylan said slowly. He too was noticing the way the man's hand was twitching.

"HOW LONG?"

"Including break ups, or as of the last time we got back—"

"When was your first date?"

"Remember the first day you met me?"

Dylan wasn't all that surprised when the man's hand finally collided with his face.

"DAD!" Marco yelled, tugging on his restraints until the skin on his wrists was raw and bound to start bleeding at any moment.

Dylan moved to untie him, but once again, Mr. Del Rossi stopped him. The man moved over and undid Marco's right hand tie, leaving him to get the other three himself.

"Marco... For years you've been seeing this man?"

Marco nodded. He didn't really want to talk right now. He was fairly certain that if he opened his mouth too much, he'd barf.

Mr. Del Rossi turned back to Dylan.

"What gives you the right to treat him like that? To tie him up and—"

"Do you really think he'd stay with me if I always treated him like that?" Dylan shot back quickly, offended by the suggestion.

Gaining some defiant bravery from the insult, Dylan moved forward and began to undo one of the restrains on Marco's ankles.

"I said not to go—"

"I've been having sex with him longer than you've known he was gay! Unless Marco himself tells me to keep away, I'll get as close as I damn well please."

A dangerous silence fell over the room as Marco set back and let Dylan untie the last leg himself.

"How long?" Marco's father asked for the hundredth time.

Marco stood up and turned around to tie his bathrobe on properly. This was an odd time for modesty, but Dylan really couldn't blame him.

Marco shook his head, despite that he could have told the man unto an hour when their first time was, "Years."

"Marco... What I really don't understand is... if you've had a relationship with him for so long, why did you tell me you weren't even really friends?"

"Would you have let me move in if I'd have told you he was my boyfriend?"

Mr. Del Rossi sighed, "No."

Marco opened his mouth, but was cut off.

"And this is exactly why!" He gestured to the limp restraints on the bed, "You are too young to be doing these things! College is one of the most important times in a man's life. Focus on your school work, not having kinky sex with your gay lover!"

"Dad..." Marco sighed. A look at the clock reminded him what day it was, and something in his mind seemed to switch quickly over to anger. "It's not like it even matters anymore! Didn't you hear me? He's moving to Switzerland!" He left Dylan's bedroom so fast neither of the other men thought to stop him.

They looked at each other briefly.

"That could have gone better..." Mr. Del Rossi muttered.

"How, exactly?" Dylan asked back, a heavy combination of angry and embarrassed himself. "You do realize that if you'd just knock, or maybe even ring the doorbell before just coming into the apartment, this wouldn't have happened."

"You gave me a key!"

"Yeah, so you'd have one if you needed it! Not so you could just waltz in whenever you like!"

The two glared at each other for a moment. Then their faces fell into sorrow and hurt.

"I'm confused..." Mr. Del Rossi admitted, "I would have sworn you were heterosexual..."

Dylan looked down at his formerly naked body and then over at the bed.

"You were wrong."

The silence screamed between them.

"Where is Ellie, anyway?"

"She spent the night with Jessie. She knew this was my last night here and she wanted to be out of the way."

"I didn't want to mess things up." He confessed. "I just stopped by to say hello, and I heard... noises... back here and thought I'd look and..."

Dylan nodded.

The silence between them was calmer this time, but still uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry I hit you."

Dylan shrugged, "I'm a hockey player. I've taken worse."

Another moment of silence followed.

"One of us should go talk to Marco." Dylan said.

"Let's both go?"

Dylan nodded.

Marco was in his room. He usually slept with Dylan, yes, but since Marco's father hadn't know they were dating—until now, that is—he'd had one just to keep up appearances.

Dylan knocked.

"What now?" Came the sulky voice from the other side of the door.

"Marco..." Dylan said, realizing suddenly that he didn't have the slightest idea what his boyfriend needed to hear right now, "I'm sorry."

"About what?" The door was opened, and Marco stood there.

Both men just noticed that he looked like he'd seen a ghost.

"About...I don't know... this happening, I guess."

Marco was now topless, but he'd pulled on a pair of jeans.

Marco sighed and leaned against the doorframe. Dylan bent down and kissed his forehead, with only a small noise of disapproval from Marco's father.

"Not exactly a great way to end your last night in Canada."

"It wasn't that bad."

"Not that bad? This is the most disastrous thing that's happened to us since..."

"Since the last time someone walked in on me in bed?" Dylan kissed him again, on the lips this time.

Marco noticed the way his father looked away at this.

"So, dad, how much do you hate me?"

The man's eyes locked with his immediately.

"Marco, I could never hate you. You know that. What I saw tonight... I'm not very happy with it... but you always make me proud. No matter what you do behind closed doors."

Marco nodded, "I love you, dad."

"And I love you."

Dylan frowned.

"I love you too, dork." Marco said, giving Dylan the first smile since Mr. Del Rossi had arrived.

They all laughed. It was a lot more laughter than the word "dork" really deserved, but after all the yelling and accusations of tonight, it felt really good to have something to laugh at.

Once the brief fit of hysteria died down, Marco looked over at his father.

"Mom doesn't have to know about this, right?"

Mr. Del Rossi made a face, "You couldn't pay me to tell her about it."

Marco sighed, "Good. Going through this once was bad enough."

Marco noticed his father turn a bit red.

"Marco, I am sorry about this."

Marco nodded, "And I'm sorry I freaked out on you two and left the room like that... in truth I'm surprised you didn't kill each other." He looked over at Dylan, "I just wanted this night to be perfect for you. Over the last few days not a moment has gone by when I haven't wondered when the next time I was going to get to see you would be, or if we can keep a long-distance relationship working..." He shut his eyes briefly, "If there is something that could possibly go wrong while you're away, I've imagined it."

"And I'm sorry to put you through all that." Dylan said quietly, stroking Marco's hair and feeling helpless, "But you know that I have to go... Maybe you could come with me for a little while?"

"What?" The two Italians said together.

"Just for like a week or something? Help me get settled in? Would you feel better if you did that?"

"I'd fall behind on school work..." Marco said quietly as his father nodded. It was clear he wanted to though.

"But..." Dylan said, smiling hopefully.

"I mean... I suppose I could catch up when I got back... and it shouldn't hurt me that much as long as I'm there the rest of the semester, which I will be."

Dylan nodded, "So, it's a yes then?"

"Can you even get tickets?"

Dylan nodded, "They might not be next to each other or anything, but how many people fly to Bern in the middle of the fall?"

"I'm not packed..."

"Just grab a shirt and wear that if you have to. They have malls in Switzerland."

Mr. Del Rossi looked concerned, but said nothing.

Marco looked over at him, "Dad, I know to you this probably sounds like a bad idea, but I love Dylan, okay? I want to..." He paused for a moment, "I need to do this."

"College is a life changing thing, Marco." Mr. Del Rossi looked up at Dylan, "But... so is love. Do what you feel you must."

Six Days Later

Dylan was happy to see his apartment finally looking livable. This was mostly thanks to Marco's help. Dylan's young boyfriend had worked quite tirelessly on unpacking, decorating, and setting up desks, tables, and anything else that called for it while Dylan was busy going to his first practices, meeting his new team, taking a crash course on German (Marco's Italian had come in more handy than he ever would have thought when they went shopping. If Marco had refused to come along he'd be living out of boxes and starving), and dealing with the million other things one has to go through after moving to another continent.

Dylan had to smile as he did a quick sweep of the apartment after coming home from work. He knew Marco must be in the back bathroom. So far, the only three rooms in the two-bedroom, two-bath apartment that still needed finishing was the guest bedroom (which hadn't even been started on) the back bathroom, and a few areas of the kitchen. Over all, Marco had done a wonderful for only having been working for six days, and Dylan actually felt a little bad about having him do all this work, even though he had told him multiple times that he didn't have to.

"Hey, Marco?" Dylan said as he opened the door and found his boyfriend standing on the toilet hooking up the shower curtains.

The Italian wobbled a bit, but managed to keep his balance and step down.

"What do you think?"

"You've done a great job as always." He quickly pecked Marco on the lips and stepped back so they could go into the Master bedroom, "Change your clothes. We're going out."

About an hour later they sat in an Italian restaurant. Marco had to order for them both, since the waiter didn't speak English. Dylan didn't mind this so much, since it left him free to think—or worry, as the case was turning out to be.

Marco laughed, "Are you sure you don't need me to stay here and translate your menus?"

Dylan's tongue suddenly wrapped into a knot. He was normally so calm, but this whole situation was one of the most nerve-wreaking things he'd ever been through. How the Hell had his father survived it?

Marco shook his head, "Sorry honey, but you're going to have to either learn German or starve."

Dylan forced a smile as their drinks were brought over. The two began to discuss more casual things, like Dylan's first day, and how Marco found it kind of refreshing to be out of Toronto for a while.

Later, when the two had nothing left but half eaten Tiramisus and maybe a forth of their wine, Dylan decided he couldn't let his nerves get to him any longer.

"Marco... You trust me, right?"

Marco looked up slowly, "Yes... Why? Shouldn't I?"

"No! You should, but..." He took a deep breath to stop himself from shaking, "How much do you trust me?"

Marco's eyebrows went up.

"Do you trust me with you life?"

Marco hesitated.

"Marco, I would never hurt you again—"

"Yes."

Their eyes met.

"Sorry. The question threw me off a little. Yes, I trust you with my life."

Dylan smiled. He knew then that he had to do this.

So he got down on his knees right there in an Italian restaurant several thousand kilometers from the Italians home, and hoped his boyfriend would be willing to prove that he trusted him that much.

"Marco Del Rossi, will you marry me?"

Marco's mind froze. He blinked for a moment at the ring in front of him, and at the blond man holding it.

The reality of what had just happened hit him rapidly, and the word "Yes!" seemed to burst from his mouth entirely of it's own accord. But why would Marco complain? His mouth did seem to know exactly what he wanted.

They decided to kick off their engagement the way most young couples do: with gay sex.

This time, there were no restraints. Mr. Del Rossi had been very careful to make sure those were left in Canada. Marco was free to move with Dylan as he kissed down his body and seemed to be trying to feel every inch of him. Dylan seemed to go after Marco's neck the most, licking, kissing, and biting all in the same area again and again.

The old stories where vampires would claim their lovers came to Marco's mind, and he realized that now that he'd agreed to trade everything just to be with him, Dylan probably had more power over him than he ever could have hoped to with Marco tied up.

This realization didn't frighten Marco in the least bit though, because as he kissed Dylan back, not worrying at all about the future, how his parents would feel, or what Ellie would say, both understood that this kind of power was a gift. He truly did trust Dylan with his life now, no matter what Dylan had done in the past. This was just one way of proving it.

After both men had found their release and their sweaty bodies were cuddled against each other's, their last words before dozing off were mundane, yet for Marco there had never seemed to be more meaning behind them.

"I love you, Marco. More than anything."

"And I love you, Dylan."

Dylan smiled. Marco didn't need to say he how much he loved him. He'd already proved it in a thousand ways.