Mark decides to get me out of the house while she gets her things, and longer if possible. We head to the Life Cafe where Mark waves his cash at the waiters so they will seat us (they still haven't gotten over all the times we've had to float the bill). Once seated, I have to ask Mark where he got the money. He blushes bright crimson. "Collins," he says, still blushing, so I have to ask. "What about getting money from Collins is making you turn beet red?" He turns so red he is almost purple and says "I told him I wanted to take you out on a date. Is that... okay?"
I laugh and put my arm around his shoulders. "Mark, you are adorable. Why wouldn't it be okay?" "I mean," he says, "I wasn't sure you would want to classify it as a 'date'. I mean... It isn't like we are... DATING.. it's just us, going out to dinner like always, right?" I touch his knee under the table and he flinches slightly. I take his hand lightly and watch him visibly relax. "I don't think anything is 'like always' with us right now," I say, and the hint of a whisper of a smile crosses his face.
The Collins Fund, as we dub it, gets us soup through dessert, a bottle of wine and two bottles of beer each. And there is more left over. Mark holds it out to me. It is paperclipped and there is a note attached. "Marky and Rog, if all goes well, use this as your 'Get the fuck away from the Loft for a night-ALL night-OVERNIGHT fund' Much Love, Collins". I can't help but chuckle. I slide the wad of cash into my pocket and lead Mark out of the Life Cafe.
He starts to turn right to head back to the loft, but I touch him gently on the arm. He stops in the middle of the sidewalk and turns to me. "Mark, I don't want to go home" I say casually. "Oh," he says, and then, "Where DO you want to go?" I point down the block to the new hotel they finished in the summer. "I want to go there. I want to be warm. I want to sleep in a nice, comfortable bed... with you."
He's cute when he blushes.
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On the walk to the hotel (Mark insists we walk) we talk about us. Well, first we talk about labels and why the world feels the need to label anyone. And we talk about Collins, for being such a meddling brat. And then we talk about us, and about what "us" really means. Halfway to the Hotel, we start to pass a drugstore, but I stop Mark. "Let me run in for a second," I say and he sits on the bench outside. I buy a new scarf and hat for him, another for me. I get new socks, two packs of underwear, toiletry items, toothpaste and toothbrushes, sweatpants and tourist-y tee-shirts. I grab a box of candy (Mark's favorite) and work my way up to the pharmacy.
Thank god they don't keep them behind the counter anymore. I grab two boxes of condoms and work my way up to the front. At the cashier's stand, I see they have single roses. It seems to be the perfect thing to do, so I buy one. It is red, and it suits Mark. I pay for my purchases and walk out. Mark is staring out at the traffic until he hears me shuffling along, my packages crinkling slightly in the cloth bags I bought. He smiles up at me and I hand him the rose.
That's when he starts to cry. I'm confused and sit down beside him. "Mark? Marky? What's wrong? Did I do something wrong?" I say, and he shakes his head no. He cries for a few seconds longer and wipes the tears away. "Sorry," he says and I take his hand, "It's.. just... you bought me a rose. It just... surprised me, that's all." We sit still for a few moments more before Mark says he is cold, and gets up to walk the rest of the way to the hotel.
We check in (fabulous) and get led to our room (spectacular). When the bellboy leaves, I even remember to tip him. Mark says he wants a shower and goes to take one. I call down to the concierge, and request a few things to the room. By the time Mark is done with his shower (a 45 minute long affair) everything is ready. A bottle of wine is chilling, there are roses everywhere and they have sent up a house dessert. It is an amazing 5 layer chocolate cake.
When I hear the shower turn off, I call out "My turn!" and head into the bathroom. Mark laughs and wraps himself in one of the luxurious hotel robes. "You BETTER have left me some warm water," I joke and he smiles, "Nope. Not a bit," before walking out of the bathroom. I turn on the shower, the water is blissfully hot. It takes all of two minutes before Mark is back in the bathroom.
"Something wrong?" I ask, but he doesn't say a word. He just pulls back the curtain on the shower and gets in, robe and all. "Unconventional," I manage to say, before he pushes me back against the shower wall and kisses me. I'm drowning, he's drowning, we are drowning in each other.
A minute later, he is on his knees in front of me, but I stop him. "Mark, no, we talked about this," I say. "I don't care," he says, but all I can see is him getting sick. Sex as death. I can't let him. "Marky, no, please?" I say and he looks up at me, hurt. I understand his hurt, but moreso I understand that I could never live with myself if I gave him a death sentence. He sighs and starts to leave the shower, but I pull him back. I push him against the wall as he had done to me, and I instead kneel before him.
I worship him there, his cock in my mouth. I am filled by the scent of him, by the taste of him, by the very presence of him. This time, as he moans my name, I am there. Not listening from the hallway, but bowed down before him like a slave to his master. And I would gladly be his slave to be able to see him in those moments again and again. His hips pressed forward, firmly planting himself between my lips, his shoulders against the wall, head dropped forward just far enough to watch.
I can tell by the way he says my name when the time is right. I slide a finger into his ass and he gasps and moans. When I add another, the pitch of his breathing changes. He stops moving, trying to hold perfectly still to not let loose yet, but I want him now, just like this. My fingers in his ass and his dick forced deep into my mouth, he cums. His body jerks and his cock spills forth the fluid that is nothing but his taste, his scent, his mark on me. He has branded me with it.
It just keeps coming and I swallow it all. He is shuddering above me, around me, in me. I remove my fingers gently and replace them with a soft washcloth, cleaning him. He practically falls as I turn off the water. I stand and take the now soaked robe off of him before wrapping my arms around him. I lead him gently to the bed where we cuddle up together for almost an hour before he sees fit to move again. When he does, his first move is to kiss me. "You wouldn't have happened to have picked up any condoms at the drugstore, would you?" he asks and I can't help but laugh.
"Chocolate cake," I say to him as he pulls a package out. "You know, one would think you didn't want me," he fake pouts. "Oh, I DO," I say, illustrating how much with a glance at my own cock, "But I want chocolate cake TOO!" Mark laughs and slaps my ass lightly. "You are incorrageable," he laughs and I take a bite of the cake. He grabs a bite and returns to the task at hand.
I eat another bite of cake, pretending not to watch. "Roger," he says, his voice full of authority. I look at him. "Put the cake DOWN, man. You've got a real problem," he says, making a serious "we've gotta talk" face. I can't help myself. I've got to laugh. His stern looks are adorable. I do, however, put the cake down, so I guess the voice of authority helped!
He gets the condom out and slides it over my cock with very little trouble. I almost ask how often he's done this. "A few times," he says as if reading my thoughts. "I've been with guys a few times. Always with condoms. I'm fanatical about them." I think back to the shower, but don't say a word.
I've learned that sometimes the best thing to say is nothing at all.