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"Jesus, fuck. . . " Music to his ears. Thomas held the vision in his mind. Marcus as a fallen angel, head dropped back against the wall, six feet of wings stretched out on either side of him, feathers glimmering in the sparkle of a city that moved on, the mundane world and magic intertwined together, one so unaware of the other. When Marcus' thighs flexed under his grip, convulsing, he braced himself, prepared as Marcus came with sudden violence, clutching Thomas' shoulder with bruising fingers, thrusting against his face.
"Love your fucking mouth. . . "
Poetry, the rough male response to fucking, being fucked. Invaded, penetrated, filled, taken beyond satiation to exhaustion, all the answers there in post climactic aftermath, at least for that powerful, still moment of repleteness.
When it was over, Marcus was leaning fully against the wall, chest expanding and contracting like a bellows. His knees were. . . quivering. Filled with satisfaction and emotions too strong to form words, Thomas stayed on his knees and put his cheek on Marcus' thigh, lips nuzzling the now drained cock, rubbing his knuckles slowly up and down the opposite column of thigh, brushing Marcus' testicles with the movement, teasing his hip bone.
As Marcus' touch moved from Thomas' shoulder to cup his head, a deep breath left Thomas. He was aroused, of course, but he wanted to stay this way awhile. Just be this.
"When do you go back?" Marcus' voice. Hard to read if Thomas didn't know him, heart, blood and bone.
Thomas raised his head, looked up that incredible terrain of curved muscle. As he rose, he stayed close, his body pressed against his lover's. Marcus shifted, his thigh pressing knowingly against Thomas' hard cock. His hand slid to Thomas' nape, that possessive kneading touch. But his mouth was taut.
Thomas' lips curved. "Don't worry about that right now," he murmured.
Marcus nodded. Looked out into the night and worried.
* * * * *
Marcus found a pair of loose cotton lounging pants and they went to his roof garden. While Thomas sketched, Marcus fell asleep on the grass, too exhausted by drink, sex and emotion to do anything different.
When he was snoring in an amusingly offensive way, Thomas squatted at his side, removed Marcus' cell phone from beside his elbow and moved to the far end of the roof. He found the number he was looking for, took a deep breath, and hit the preprogrammed button to dial it.
"Hello?"
A man. Shit. Thomas had hoped to talk to the woman first, not the man that Thomas knew Marcus had once fucked. He forced himself to rally. Marcus was his now, and this man was married. "Josh?"
He didn't know his last name, knew nothing except they were the closest friends Marcus had, if Julie and Marcus' own references to them were true.
"This is Thomas. Marcus' Thomas. " He didn't know how else to go about saying it.
A pause, then a surge of alarm that came through clearly, even over a cell phone connection. "Is he okay?"
"Yeah. . . yeah. Well, no. Actually, not really. His dad just died, and I was thinking he could use some friends right about now. Do you. . . do you live nearby?"
"Jesus, he hasn't told you anything about us, has he?" Thomas hesitated, not sure what to say to that. Apparently the significance of that pause came through clearly as well.
"Oh. " A self-conscious chuckle. "Figures that's the only thing the asshole would tell you. He hasn't told us much about you either. It's from what he doesn't say that we figured out who you were to him. No wonder his stomach's been bothering him, if his dad was sick. I knew that son of a bitch was lying about it not being him. Here, I'm putting Lauren on. Tell her what's happening with him. She's a doctor. "
"No, it's not - " Thomas heard an exchange of words and then he was relieved, despite the misunderstanding, to find himself talking to the woman.
"What are his symptoms? Are you at a hospital?"
"No, and in about five hours, his symptoms are going to be a massive hangover. " Thomas chuckled wearily despite himself, ran a hand over the back of his neck. "Look, I probably shouldn't be calling you, but I think you two are his closest friends, and he got some bad news today. I'm thinking if you're nearby or planning to come this way soon, you could - "
"You're not bugging out on him. "
"No," Thomas said automatically, in response to the sharp tone of her voice. "That's the thing. I'm going to have to go home in three or four days, and I'm hoping - "
"Thomas, you do realize you're the love of his life, don't you? So are you sticking this time or not?"
"I'm sticking," he said, the simplest answer.
A pause. "Oh. Well, good then. We'll be up tomorrow night. Josh will cook. We'll have a quiet night in. I'm going to let you talk to Josh some more. "
"No, I - " But she was gone. Thomas shook his head.
"Sorry, didn't realize she was going to go after you like that. Women, Jesus. So tell me how he's doing? And tell me when the hell did he get a dad? First we've heard of it. "
