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Here on this beach, with its reputation for being a hangout for gay men, things could get pretty blatant. Maybe it was that environment making him so bold, knowing there'd be no disparaging looks as he did what he wanted to do. If Marcus commanded him, he might take him down his throat now. The pain of their words this morning, the difference between wishing and reality, made him reckless. Time was short.
And maybe he wanted it clear. Yeah, you might've gotten to grab his ass in the past, but today I'm the only one who gets to do it.
Jesus, what an ass. His thumb still hooked in the elastic, Thomas' other fingers moved over the outside, the stretched fabric of the suit, digging into the taut buttock beneath, even as he kept the other hand moving, spreading the lotion.
"Do the legs. " Marcus' voice was low. "I want to feel your hands between my legs. " He was aroused, Thomas could tell just from the tone, even if he couldn't see him from the front.
Swallowing, he took his hand from the waistband, put more lotion in his hand.
Then deliberately he dropped to one knee and ran both hands up either side of Marcus' left thigh as if he were a personal slave attending the needs of an Egyptian prince.
Though Thomas stopped just short of his tightly compressed scrotum in the snug, way-too-brief black swimsuit, he could feel the firm round testicles graze his fingertips.
With his fingers coated with lotion, he ran the sunscreen over the other thigh and then between again, Marcus obligingly spreading his legs to his touch, flexing that magnificent ass within inches of his face. Thomas wanted to sink his teeth into the meat of it and growl. No man should be so goddamned sexy.
Finished with both legs, he withdrew his hands reluctantly and moved to Marcus' front. He stifled a groan. Marcus was huge, straining against the suit so that the broad head was in danger of coming out of the top. Marcus gave him an amused glance as Thomas positioned his body in front of him before he began rubbing down his shoulders.
"You caused it, pet. Now you're going to try to hide it?"
"Shut up," Thomas muttered. He grabbed up a towel, ostensibly to wipe his hands but he slid it around Marcus' hips, tucked it in. "You've got no modesty at all. "
"You've got enough for both of us. " Marcus closed one hand on both of Thomas' over the tucked and rolled knot of towel and cupped his face for a light brush of lips, just a taste that left him hungering for more. "Farm boy. "
"Hey!"
Thomas turned to see a couple men calling out to them from the volleyball net. "We need two more. You up for it?"
"A scene from Top Gun comes to mind," Marcus noted, appraising the two men who appeared to be bodybuilders in their spare time. "What do you think?"
"All brawn, no brains or quickness," Thomas said, with a forced careless grin.
But as Marcus dropped the towel and Thomas squatted to tuck the sunblock back in their pack, something compelled him to ask the question. "Master. . . " He hesitated, startled he'd used the address in such a public place, though no one was close enough to hear. He turned, looked up at Marcus. Marcus reached out and brushed his temple with his thumb, his expression unsmiling, waiting.
"You always brush it off when I ask. Are you ever going to tell me anything about your past?"
Something shifted in Marcus' expression. It was a beautiful day, with a clear blue sky and sun sparkling on the water and sand. The promise of volleyball added to the relaxing, pleasurable feel of the day. But as Thomas was caught in that expression, it got suddenly cold and dark. He felt the brief, shuddering grip of a quiet, terrible place where Marcus wasn't the Marcus he knew. Someone far different. But strangely, perhaps more real.
"Who I am now is all that matters, pet. Let it go. " Marcus turned away, bent and picked up the towel.
"But. . . Ouch!" Marcus snapped the towel at him again, landing another stinging blow on Thomas' ass. "You son of a - "
Marcus took off with a grin, catching the ball midair as they got closer to the net. He tossed it to Thomas, occupying his hands before he could retaliate.
But Thomas wouldn't forget. He wondered. His family and upbringing were so much of what he was it was hard for him to imagine who he'd be without it. But from Marcus' reaction, he wondered if he was ready to know more. And Marcus of course had made it easy to put off the decision, shifting it back on his footing again.
Ben and Andrew were fitness club trainers. They liked the beach as a way to soft-recruit new customers as well as to enjoy some healthy competition, when they could scare it up.
Soon Ben and Andrew had them and some other men joining in, getting a full game going. Marcus was on the other side of the net and several times he and Thomas had to come up against each other to fight for the ball's placement,
with mixed results.
When Marcus' cell phone rang, the noise reaching them from where the phone sat on his beach chair, it distracted him enough that Thomas spiked the ball under his arm, winning the point to the cheers of his teammates.
"Lucky. "
"Yeah, right. " Thomas grinned as Marcus backpedaled to his towel, picked up the phone and answered.
When Ben raised a questioning hand, Marcus waved him off. "More important name on the other line. Deal me out of the game. " At Ben's deprecating comment, he flashed a grin. "Bite me. "
