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Fortunately, Ben was intuitive enough to change the subject. They spent the next half hour talking about their respective businesses. Before starting their fitness operation, Ben had been a lawyer and Andrew ran a restaurant. Being with them was calming as well as painful, watching the casual touches, the intimacy of two men who knew they had a present and a future as well as a past.
"It's not easy, Thomas. " Andrew broke the thread of the conversation mid-sentence.
He either had his own dose of intuition or, as Marcus had pointed out before, Thomas' expression was just too transparent. "It isn't easy for any couple to figure it out, gay or straight. Everything can sometimes work against you. Particularly family. Forget that
'let no man put asunder' bullshit. Even hetero couples know that's wedding day crap when it comes to family and friends. "
He leaned forward. "They may call it well-meaning meddling, concern, whatever, but lots of time people in your life, the people you really love, will work to tear you apart. You'll even help sometimes, being your own worst enemy. But the two of us decided a long time ago love isn't given frivolously. " He glanced at Ben. "If you're given the gift of it, you fight to keep it, on all fronts. Don't think it was a mistake or not meant to be. That kind of thing isn't a mistake, and it's too rare to fuck up. Okay?" Thomas considered his half-empty cup of tea. "Sometimes I just don't know why he's with me. "
"Maybe he needs a compass. "
Thomas looked up, surprised. Andrew shrugged. "A man looks at the person he loves, he sees his compass. A man can command all the physical aspects of his world, but if his soul is lost, well. . . it doesn't mean much. Maybe when you look at him, you see beyond the fantastic looks to what's real, his soul. And maybe that's what he needs from you. "
Ben nodded. "You aren't like that sleaze who was trying to snake in today. You can tell you're a family guy. "
"And what does Marcus seem like?"
Andrew grinned, discarding the serious tone. "You tell us, kid. You're the one who looks at him like he's the entire universe. " Then his gaze shifted, and Thomas knew the subject of their conversation was back.
Even so, his nerves rippled in excitement when a pair of hands slid over his shoulders, cupped. He inhaled Marcus' rich scent, which was an answer all in itself.
"Miss me?"
"Were you gone?" Thomas glanced up at him indifferently as Ben chuckled. "You know, I could have pulled weeds out of the parking lot and boiled them. It would have been a hell of a lot cheaper than this crap. "
Marcus shifted his attention to the other two. "I should have mentioned if he gets cranky, you can take him to the McDonald's down the street to buy him some cookies and let him roll around in that vat of colored plastic balls. " Thomas bared his teeth at him. Marcus slid into the vacant chair and handed him a shopping bag. "Here, go put this on. You'll need to be dressed a little differently for the plans we have tonight. "
The way Marcus' eyes lingered on Thomas gave him the terrifying vision of some leather and chains combination and Marcus requiring him to step out of the coffeehouse adorned in it. Well, he didn't have to do it. Didn't have to do anything.
"Go on, pet. " Marcus nudged his foot under the table, his lips held firmly together as if suppressing a smile. Thomas reflected that he really did need to cultivate a better poker face. "We need to get going soon. It's dark already. " Thomas rose and left them for the privacy of the yacht club locker rooms. The white opaque bag at least felt like it held something resembling clothing, but there was a smaller paper bag inside of it that made a crumpling noise. When he closed the door of a private bathing room with sink and mirror, he opened the main bag to find a pair of black jeans in his correct size and a short sleeved heavy cotton tee in a royal blue.
In the brown paper bag was a full harness that would collar the cock and balls, and then run up the back of the ass with adjustable strap and ring for positioning a plug. So of course there was a plug and lubricant. He fished in the bag, found a note.
Put this on. Tighten it so the plug will stay deep in your ass and you'll feel the harness on your cock and balls with every step. No underwear. Put a condom on with the harness. You'll be hard enough, I'm sure.
Under the tee was a pair of loafers and socks. All of the clothes were top quality men's wear that Thomas would never have bought for himself, but they were simple, clean styles he liked. He fingered the soft fabric, saw another note.
Still thinking? Am I your Master or not? Put the harness and clothes on and don't make me wait. And tuck the shirt in. I want to see your ass.
This week. Marcus was his Master for this week. It gave Thomas the courage to strip off his cut off jean shorts and T-shirt that had been suitable for the yacht club coffee shop. The bag also held a razor, aftershave and other toiletries to clean up.
Marcus had left no message on them, because the message was clear. It made Thomas flush despite the fact he was alone.
Marcus preferred him to keep his genital area shaved, which made him think of the first time Marcus' fine hand had cupped his smoothly shaven balls. The nerves had felt so exposed, sensitive to every stimulation. Jesus, he was getting harder by the minute, just looking at the things Marcus had bought for him. He was being prepared, and rising along with the anxiety was a hungry ache.
Thomas couldn't deny his Master. Wouldn't. And Marcus knew it.
* * * * *
He'd been worried about the plug. He didn't want to walk funny and give it away, mortifying himself. But the thinness made it more of a probe, and the snug fit of the jeans kept the harness firmly in place, keeping the stimulation right where he was sure Marcus wanted it. When tightened properly, the harness cut a bit, but it was supple and lined, so an adjustment on his now cleanly shaved groin took care of that.
He'd shaved his face too, washed his hair, put on the aftershave cologne. All in all, he admitted he cleaned up well. He typically didn't think about whether or not he was handsome, except when he was with Marcus. Marcus had ways of making him feel. . . well, like he looked pretty damn good. Good enough to make Marcus want to take a bite.
Nodding at himself in the mirror, Thomas collected the bag of toiletries and beach clothes, and reached for the door. He had to stifle a groan at the tightening and stimulating restraint of the cock ring, the probe, the feel of the straps running along his hips. Bound, restrained. A slave to his Master's desire. A slave to his own. Marcus brought forth in him what no other man could. This unquenchable desire to belong, to submit.
When they'd argued earlier, Marcus had cruelly but accurately pointed out that Thomas was uncomfortable facing the truth of that. But when Marcus was his mirror, it was as if the only two things Thomas had ever wanted were to create his art and serve Marcus' pleasure.
He kept telling himself he couldn't lose himself in this, but hell, damn it all, sure he could. Because after a week it was likely all over. No, not "likely". It fucking was. Who wouldn't take a week offered in heaven before they had to descend back to a life sentence in Purgatory?
