Textual Confusion

22. The person you are trying to reach is unavailable. again.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

THE PERSON YOU ARE TRYING TO REACH IS UNAVAILABLE... AGAIN.

It was worse.

It was Markus.

For some Godforsaken reason, Asher’s instinctual response was to slam the door shut in the man’s face.

But Markus was quicker, and he managed to wedge his foot in the doorway before it could close.

In a fit of panic-induced stupidity, Asher pushed his weight against the door in an attempt to keep the man out.

It was downright ridiculous to think he could. Markus had half a foot and at least fifty pounds of pure muscle on him. He could easily force his way into Asher’s motel room if he put in even half the effort Asher was exerting in order to keep him out.

But he didn’t.

As far as Asher could tell, Markus was just standing there, foot in the gap and doorknob in hand… but he wasn’t pushing his way inside, seemingly content to wait patiently for Asher come to his senses.

“You’re only making things worse for yourself, Asher. Open the goddamn door. Now. ”

Maybe not so patiently then.

Markus’s voice was pitched low and dark, dripping with displeasure.

Asher debated the merits of being stubborn and continuing to bodily block the door from opening. But the truth was, now that the initial surprise (and alarm) was fading, Asher couldn’t deny that some sick part of him was happy to see the man.

It was wrong. Asher knew it was.

He should be beside himself that his plan to remove himself from Markus’s life had gone awry, disappointed that that he hadn’t driven the man away with his dramatics. But there was no denying the relief slowly filling him, relaxing the tense muscles of his limbs and loosening his grip on the door.

It was further proof of how utterly self-centered he was.

“Selfish cunt.”

But in that moment, Asher couldn’t bring himself to care.

After only a brief hesitation, he gave in and stepped away from the door.

Clasping his hands into fists, Asher directed his gaze to the floor as Markus entered the room. The quiet click of the door shutting behind him, and the sound of the bolt sliding through the lock were loud in the quiet of the room. Not quite brave enough to look Markus in the eye, Asher continued to stare at his socked feet, waiting tensely for the man to say something.

Ten seconds passed in a painful silence, and then another. What felt like an eternity later – but was probably only a minute or two – Asher couldn’t take it anymore, and he broke. “How did you find me?”

A beat.

“I spent the past fifteen hours out of my fucking mind with worry and that’s what you have to say to me?”

Asher flinched. “Sorry,” he mumbled, fingernails digging so hard into the skin of his palms that he was surprised they didn’t draw blood.

“Look at me.”

Asher didn’t want to stare the repercussions of his actions in the face, but Markus’s tone didn’t leave much room for argument, so he forced himself to finally look up from the floor.

Somehow, Markus looked even more wretched than he did.

His usual perfectly styled hair was disheveled, like he’d been running his hands through it over and over again, and the wrinkle in his brow was more pronounced than usual, like he’d been frowning (or scowling) for hours on end. The bags under his eyes matched Asher’s own, and the dress shirt he wore was an untucked, crumpled mess.

But he was still the most beautiful man Asher had ever seen, and he drank in the sight of him, having been deprived of it the past week – the longest he gone without seeing the man since they’d met.

Markus’s eyes were dark and intense as ever as they bore into Asher’s own. Everything about the man – his stance, the white-knuckled fists, the gleam in his eyes – projected an almost frenetic energy. Like he was hanging onto his control by a thread.

“What are you sorry for?” Markus demanded, jerking him from his thoughts.

A lot of things.

For not being good enough. For being so selfish for so long. For leaving without a proper explanation. For the stress he’d obviously caused the man.

“For… for upsetting you,” Asher managed lamely after a moment.

“You think a word as insipid as ‘upset’ even begins to describe how I felt when I got that cryptic fucking message?” Markus asked, voice tight with barely contained fury. “When your phone went straight to voicemail every time I tried calling you to demand an explanation? When I found all the gifts I’ve ever given you sitting in a pile on my bed? When I spotted that wad of cash and the fucking Rolex I gave you on my nightstand? When no matter what I did or who I talked to, I couldn’t. fucking. find. you ?”

With every accusation that shot out of his mouth, Markus stalked closer to Asher. Until Asher was forced to retreat, the back of his knees hitting the edge of the bed. Even then, he had to bend his neck backwards in order to keep eye contact with the man as he invaded his space.

Asher nervously wet his lips, ignoring the way Markus’s dark eyes immediately latched onto the movement of his tongue. “I-I’m sorry,” he repeated, like a particularly stupid parrot.

Markus didn’t seemed moved by the apology. “Not even Sasha or Danny knew where you were. Do you have any idea the thoughts that were running through my head? I was starting to fucking think that you’d done something irreparable.”

Asher felt his eyes widen. Irreparable? Surely, Markus hadn’t thought Asher would hurt himself – or worse.

You did tell him that you loved him in one breath and then apologized and bid him goodbye in the next, before disappearing off the face of the Earth, a voice pointed out.

But he hadn’t meant it that way!

“I didn’t think-”

“ That is obvious,” Markus cut him off, voice scornful. “What I want to know is why you did it. What was the point of all this? Did you really think that you could just up and leave without a proper explanation? That I would let you?”

If Asher thought hard enough, he could recall a time when Markus had promised not to chase after him if he decided to end things. But that was months ago, when they barely knew each other. And despite Markus’s remarks, Asher wasn’t suicidal, so he didn’t bring it up.

“I wasn’t going to stay gone forever,” Asher pointed out instead. “I figured I’d hang out here for a while until, you know… you forgot about me.”

It sounded stupid when he put it like that, and judging by Markus’s expression, he thought the same. “Do you truly think I could ever forget about you?”

“I don’t know,” Asher answered meekly, eyes drifting to the floor, unable to withstand Markus’s accusing gaze any longer.

“I told you to look at me,” Markus commanded sharply, taking Asher by the chin. The man waited until he’d focused his eyes back on him before continuing on with his interrogation, “Was it your psychotic ex? Did he do something to you?”

Asher’s eyes widened. “What? No! You know Trent’s still in the hospital.”

“Who was it then?” Markus demanded. “A member of the board, perhaps? Did one of them approach you? Threaten you?”

Asher shook his head as much as he could considering Markus still had ahold of his jaw. “No one approached me,” he promised.

A pause while Markus searched his eyes. “Then why did you do this? Was- was it something I did?” he asked, his grip on Asher’s face tightening despite the sudden hesitance in his voice. “Did I do something to scare you – make you think you had to run from me?”

Asher despised the insecurity he could hear in Markus’s voice, especially knowing that he had caused it. “No! Of course not,” Asher assured, unable to stop himself from grasping the collar of Markus’s shirt in his desperation to make the man believe him. “I swear it’s not that. I- it’s the opposite, really.”

Markus’s expression gave nothing away. “What does that mean?”

And just like that, it all came gushing out.

“Your life is just so perfect,” Asher blurted. “ You’re perfect. You’re so smart and handsome and- and nice -”

Markus scoffed. “I’m not nice,” he denied.

“Your parents are lovely,” Asher continued, ignoring him. “You’re a hotshot CEO, who’s so rich and successful that you’re on the covers of magazines and have to worry about frickin’ paparazzi following you around.” Asher paused, swallowing. “And the last thing I ever want to do is jeopardize any of that for you.”

“What makes you think you could?”

“Because I’m the exact opposite of that!” Asher exclaimed. “I’m average looking at best, and I know more about baking cookies or leavening bread than anything that has to do with investing or finances. I haven’t seen my biological father in nearly two decades, and my mother’s a drug addict. You- you’re so kind and generous to me, but all I do is drag you down-”

“Who told you that?” Markus cut in, voice gruff. “Who fucking told you that?”

Asher could only sniffle in the face of the man’s obvious anger. “No one,” he lied, voice wobbly. “It’s just obvious, isn’t it? Y-you deserve better than me. You’re wonderful, and I’m n-nothing but a worthless faggot-”

In hindsight, Asher really should have seen Markus’s reaction coming.

The more self-hatred he spewed, the darker the man’s irises grew, and the tighter his grip on Asher got – until it was nearly bruising. Until he’d finally had enough.

Asher’s surroundings became a blur of movement as he was suddenly spun around. Markus manhandled him onto the bed, maneuvering him until Asher found himself sprawled across the man’s lap, head down and ass up.

Wide-eyed and confused, Asher stared uncomprehendingly at the shag carpet inches from his face. “W-what-?” But he didn’t get a chance to finish the question, whatever it was going to be, because-

Smack!

A firm smack to his bottom had Asher sucking in a surprised breath. What the fuck was happening?

Isn’t it obvious? You’re being spanked like an unruly toddler.

Despite his surprise, the realization didn’t upset Asher nearly as much as it probably should have. Sure, the smack had stung – the fabric of his briefs too thin to provide much protection – but it was also weirdly… grounding.

“How dare you use such vile language to describe someone I fucking adore so much,” Markus seethed above him.

Asher flinched. “I- but it’s true,” he said, unsure if he should argue, but unable to stop himself. “All I do is ruin people’s lives. I’m literally a fucking gold digger-”

Smack!

The force Markus put behind the blow was harder this time, and Asher yelped as the man’s hand connected with the sensitive stretch of skin just below his ass cheeks.

“Are you questioning my judgement? Calling me fucking stupid?”

“No!” Asher denied, the sting immediately forgotten in the face of such an accusation. Asher tried to turn and look at Markus, convince him with his eyes that that couldn’t be further from the truth. Asher was the one with a laundry list of character flaws, not Markus. But the hand the man had on the back of Asher’s neck didn’t allow it. “Why would you say that?

“Because you’re ignoring everything I’ve ever told you and repeating the bullshit lies someone else fed you instead. Have I not told you countless times how beautiful you are? How alluring I find you? How you’re the only person on the entire goddamn planet worthy of my devotion?”

“I- I’m sorry.”

Markus ignored the lackluster apology, trudging onward. “Have I not showered you with enough praise? Have I somehow failed at making you understand how utterly fucking precious you are to me? Am I so horrible a partner?”

“No!” Asher assured, desperate and devastated in equal measure.

“You say that, yet you’ve chosen to spew this false rhetoric. Why?” Markus demanded. “What happened while I was gone?”

“I- I don’t know,” Asher answered, stuttering on the lie.

Smack!

Smack!

Smack!

A series of squeals escaped as Markus’s open palm rained down on Asher’s ass cheeks. He was jolted forward each time the man’s hand met his backside, his cock hardening at the forced friction.

Asher was breathing hard by the time Markus was finished, horrified to find his body shaking with equal parts adrenaline and arousal.

What the fuck?

“Lying will only make this harder,” Markus growled, the rumble sending another throb of desire straight to Asher’s groin.

The man’s hand had come to rest on one of his ass cheeks, and Asher tensed as Markus’s fingers inadvertently fell into his crack. The tip of one brushed against his hole through the thin fabric of his underwear, and Asher twitched at the contact, rutting involuntarily against Markus’s lap.

The man froze.

Oh no.

Asher whimpered, praying that somehow, someway, Markus hadn’t noticed the rock hard erection poking him in the thigh.

But it was futile. “Are you enjoying this?”

Markus’s voice was impossible to read, and the hand on the back of Asher’s neck refused to budge, so he couldn’t see the man’s expression. “I… n-no,” he stammered after a long moment, the lie obvious.

“No?” Markus repeated dubiously.

Asher’s breath hitched when the hand on his ass cheek gave a deliberate squeeze. “Then why are rutting against me like a desperate, needy baby, hm?

“I- I’m not-” Asher tried to protest, but Markus spoke over him.

“Could it be that you enjoy being punished by your daddy? Is that why you decided to run away like a fucking brat and scare me half to death?”

“No!”

“Then why?” Markus snarled. “Who filled your head with these bullshit lies? Who made you doubt me, made you run ?”

“They’re not lies!” Asher implored. “Something’s wrong with me!”

For a long moment, the only sound in the tension-filled room was Asher’s labored breathing. Then, in a gruff voice, Markus demanded, “Color?”

It took Asher an embarrassingly long time to understand what Markus was asking. But when the man nudged calloused fingers under the waistband of his underwear, it clicked.

Asher swallowed hard, only hesitating a moment before... “Green.”

No sooner had the word escaped his mouth than his underwear were yanked down his legs, left to dangle off his calves as Markus played with the globes of his ass cheeks. His hands were pleasantly cool against Asher’s flushed cheeks as they stroked the heated skin, tracing what Asher imagined were the pink outline of palm prints.

It should have been mortifying, being spread out across another man’s lap, naked ass up in the air. But the warm feeling in Asher’s chest, slowly branching out to the rest of his body, wasn’t humiliation. And there was no denying the way Asher’s leaking cock throbbed where it was trapped against Markus’s thighs, precum undoubtedly staining the man’s black slacks.

“It doesn’t matter who fed you those poisonous lies,” Markus said after a long moment of simply caressing the heated flesh of his backside. “What matters is that you believe them, so we’re going to fix that, okay, baby?”

“How?” Asher asked, voice small.

“Simple,” he answered. “You’re going to repeat exactly what I say until I believe that you believe the words coming out of your mouth. What do you think? Sound easy enough?”

Asher tensed when Markus’s thumb dipped into his ass crack, brushing purposefully against his puckered hole.

“O-okay.”

“Okay…?” Markus trialed off suggestively.

Asher swallowed. “Okay, Daddy.”

“Good boy.”

Goosebumps broke out across Asher’s skin at the praise, and he felt his hole contract, trying its hardest to catch on Markus’s thumb, a desperate invitation to sink the digit inside.

“Now, repeat after me: Nothing is wrong with me.”

Asher took a deep breath in through his nose. He wasn’t sure if he believed it, but if it would make Markus happy… “Nothing is wrong with me,” he repeated, making sure to keep his voice steady.

“Just like that, baby. Perfect.”

Asher all but melted at the positive reinforcement. He hadn’t even realized how tightly coiled his muscles were until he felt them begin to relax, his insides slowly turning to goo at the realization he’d pleased the man.

“Now say you’re the prettiest boy in Seattle.”

Asher’s felt himself flush. “I…" he started, then stopped, feeling tongue-tied. This one was a lot harder to spit out. (Probably because of how outlandish it was. Asher wasn’t even the prettiest person in the room right now – albeit Markus was more handsome than pretty.) “I’m sort of pretty, I guess?” he managed to push past his lips eventually, but it came out sounding more like a question, and was a far cry from Markus’s original statement.

So, really, Asher should have seen what happened next coming.

Smack!

Asher yelped, jerking in surprise at the sudden spanking. Markus’s palm stung a lot more without the barrier of his underwear to protect him, but somehow the pinpricks that burst across his ass cheeks only made Asher’s cock ache more fiercely.

“Did you not understand my instructions?” the man asked.

“I- I understood.”

“Then did you not hear what I ordered you to say?” Markus pressed, fingers dancing along the heated skin of his backside before abruptly disappearing. “Perhaps my touch is distracting you.”

“No!” Asher protested, too turned on to be properly embarrassed over the desperation he could hear in his voice. “Don’t stop! I heard you, I swear. It’s just…”

“It’s just what?”

Asher licked his lips. “It’s just… I’m not that pretty,” he answered honestly.

A pause.

“Are you arguing with me?”

“No,” Asher denied, although he clearly was. “I don’t mean to, anyway. It’s just… Seattle is home to hundreds of thousands of people. Of course I’m not the prettiest boy in the entire city.”

Another pause.

“You’re right. You’re not the prettiest boy in Seattle.” Asher blinked at the whiplash, unsure whether he should be disappointed or relieved with the man’s sudden agreement. But then... “You’re the most beautiful fucking person on the entire goddamn planet.”

Annnd Asher was pretty sure his cheeks were permanently flushed red at this point.

“Do you want to know why?” Markus pressed when Asher remained silent in the face of such an absurd proclamation.

“Why?” Asher croaked.

“Because I fucking said so. I’m the one in charge. Mine is the only opinion that fucking matters, and I say you are utterly. fucking. gorgeous . Do you understand?”

Asher’s voice was barely more than a whisper when he replied. “I understand.”

“Then tell me,” Markus demanded.

“I- I’m utterly fucking gorgeous.”

“Yes, you fucking are. That’s my good, obedient boy. I knew you could do it.”

Perhaps he’d been held upside down across Markus’s lap for too long, and all the blood not rushing to his dick was pooling at his head. Because Asher felt vaguely dizzy at the praise the man bestowed upon him. He was only dimly aware of the sound of Markus spitting into his hand before it returned to his ass, wet fingers working between his crack and stroking him there, sliding back and forth, back and forth, all the way from his tailbone to his perineum before the wet pad of a finger finally came to rest against his hole. It sat there, a tantalizing pressure against his winking entrance, but not pushing inside.

Asher whined at the blatant teasing. “P-please,” he begged.

“Shh,” Markus shushed him. “Tell me how smart and capable you are.”

Asher would do pretty much anything at this point if it meant Markus would fill his desperate, twitching hole. “I’m smart a-and-”

Yet he wasn’t prepared.

Asher’s voice broke when the finger finally slipped inside, breaching his tight heat. He could feel himself clutching around the digit, determined to keep it inside.

“And what, baby?” Markus scolded lightly. “Finish your sentence.”

Asher swallowed the wad of saliva pooling in his mouth. “I’m smart and c-capable.”

“That’s right,” Markus agreed, and Asher nearly sobbed with relief when another finger joined the first, slowly sinking into his hole. But it wasn’t enough. Content as Markus seemed to plug Asher’s hole with his fingers, he wasn’t fucking moving them.

Asher whined in frustration, but Markus squeezed the back of his neck in a silent warning, and Asher quickly quieted.

“Tell me you’re fierce and brave,” Markus demanded.

Asher licked his lips. He didn’t feel that way, but… “I’m fierce and brave.”

“Yes, you are, sweetheart,” Markus immediately bolstered, like he’d sensed his initial hesitation, “so very brave.”

Asher tensed when a glob of spit was suddenly spat directly onto his hole, whimpering as a third finger wriggled inside to join the others. They’d never forgone lube before and it burned as his pucker stretched to accommodate the man’s thick fingers – but in the best way. Much like the sting the impromptu spankings had left behind, it only made everything more real.

Plus, the man had finally started to move inside him , even if each thrust of his fingers seemed purposefully shallow and nowhere near his prostate. Asher would take anything at this point, cock twitching uncontrollable where it was trapped against Markus’s lap.

“Tell me how ridiculously adorable you are,” Markus demanded gruffly.

“I-I’m adorable,” Asher parroted dumbly, a strange sort of fog transcending over his thoughts. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton – much like his hole was stuffed full of Markus’s fingers.

“Tell me you’re as sweet at the cakes you bake.” The words Markus wanted Asher to say seemed particularly nonsensical this time, but with every bit of praise showered over him and every finger tucked into his hole, they were getting easier and easier to say aloud.

“I-I’m as sweet as the cakes I bake.”

Asher cried in protest when Markus suddenly pulled his fingers out, leaving his tiny hole gaping, fluttering as it clenched around nothing. Asher whined at the feeling of emptiness, confused and on the verge of tears. He’d said what the man wanted. So why did he-?

But a depraved slurping sound and low groan coming from somewhere above Asher swiftly distracted him from his woes. “Sorry, baby,” Markus apologized a moment later, voice like gravel. “I couldn’t resist a taste. You’re right. Sweet as fucking candy.”

Asher moaned in embarrassed arousal at the man’s words, shivering as Markus’s spit-soaked fingers returned to his hole, playing with it, rubbing back and forth against his puffy entrance. His cock was pulsating , he was so incredibly turned on. “Please,” he begged, desperate for those fingers to plug him up so he could feel full again.

“Tell me you’re lovable,” Markus demanded, allowing the tip of his thumb to wriggle it’s way inside his hole.

Asher whined at the blatant teasing, but even through the fog of arousal clouding his thoughts, that word – the “ l ” word – gave Asher pause. Was he lovable? Truly? Asher hesitated.

Markus must have sensed his reluctance because before Asher could decide what to say, the fingers playing with his hole were suddenly gone. Asher whimpered at the loss, trying to chase Markus’s touch by lifting his hips, but a hand on his lower back forced him to stay still. “Say it,” Markus ordered sternly.

Asher pressed his lips together, still wavering, but after a moment to ground himself… “I’m lovable,” he voiced timidly.

“Louder,” Markus demanded. “Like you mean it. You’re lovable .”

And hearing the steely conviction in Markus’s voice, Asher thought that just maybe it was true.

“I… I’m lovable!”

Asher wasn’t prepared for the other man’s response to his obedience.

He squealed when what could have only been four of Markus’s fingers suddenly breached him all at once. “That’s right,” the man snarled, curling his fingers and rubbing viciously at Asher’s prostate until he was wailing and squirming uncontrollably in his lap. “You’re Daddy’s perfect, lovable little boy.”

The slight pain of the stretch was nothing compared to the waves of hot pleasure that rolled over Asher as Markus relentlessly finger fucked him. “Say it,” the man demanded, finally releasing the hold he had on the back of Asher’s neck to swat his ass cheek. “Say you’re Daddy’s boy.”

“‘M Daddy’s boy,” Asher somehow managed to slur as the man continued to piston his fingers in and out of his hole, brutalizing that little bundle of nerves inside him over and over again.

“That’s right. You’re mine . From the moment I fucking saw you, all I wanted to do was spoil you fucking rotten, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do – forever . Anything you can think of and everything you can’t – it’s yours, baby, all of it. All you have to do is stay .”

There was a familiar pressure building in Asher’s balls, his thighs shaking as he tried to hold back his impending orgasm. But even teetering on the edge as he was, Asher needed Markus to know. He didn’t care about any of that stuff. “All I w-want is you ,” he blubbered.

A brief pause. Even the fingers inside Asher’s hole slowed their assault. And then…

“Oh, sweetheart,” Markus all but cooed, “isn’t it obvious? I’ve been wrapped around your fucking pinkie since the day we met. I’m yours, and there’s nothing you could ever do to ruin that. Because I. fucking. love. you. ”

Markus emphasized each word with a direct attack on his prostate, and it was just too much. The physical and emotional onslaught was overwhelming, and before Asher knew it, he was crying out – wailing, really – as white stars burst behind his eyelids and he spilled his load all over Markus’s lap.

It took him a while to come down from it, his mind pleasantly blank for probably an entire minute before he came back to himself. When he did, Asher realized he was shaking – trembling with the aftershocks of his orgasm.

And he was still hard.

Trapped in the same, floaty headspace he’d been in since Markus had first thrown him over his lap, Asher didn’t even realize he was crying until he felt a tear drip from the tip of his nose.

Markus must have realized he was crying at the same time as Asher did, because it was only seconds later that Asher found himself being hauled properly into the man’s lap, legs splayed on either side his thighs. He cupped Asher’s face, thumbs wiping helplessly at the tears leaking from his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Nothing. Everything was fucking perfect. Or it should have been, anyway. But Asher wasn’t ready for this moment to be over. Even though he was sitting in the man’s lap, Markus felt too far away. And even though he’d just had one of the most intense orgasms of his life, Asher was still on edge.

“Baby, talk to me. Did I hurt you?”

Asher didn’t think he had the words to explain what he was feeling, but the panic slowly making its way into Markus’s voice filled him with the wherewithal to try. “I’m not hurt,” he said, sniffling. “It’s just…”

“It’s just what? What do you need, baby? Tell Daddy. I told you. Anything you ask for – it’s yours.”

Asher shuddered at the proclamation. “I need to feel you,” he admitted, pulling at the bottom of Markus’s shirt, hoping he’d get the hint since Asher didn’t think he had the fine motor skills it required to unclasp any buttons at the moment.

Thankfully, the man seemed to understand what Asher wanted because he wasted no time pulling his shirt up over his head.

“Is this better, sweetheart?” Markus asked, pulling Asher close and rubbing his hands up and down his arms.

Asher nodded, nuzzling his face into the crook of Markus’s neck, huffing in the scent of sandalwood and amber – the scent he'd come to associate with the man. But it still wasn’t enough. “Need more,” he admitted, playing with Markus’s belt, unable to stop himself from grinding against the man’s prominent erection. When he pulled away – just enough to look into Markus’s eyes – it was to find his dark gaze drilling into him.

“What do you need, darling? You have to use your words, remember?”

A noise of frustration crawled up Asher’s throat, but Markus didn’t budge, so after a moment, he forced himself to speak. “Your cock,” he finally managed to verbalize. “I need it – inside .”

“Are you sure, baby?” Markus asked, unable to hide the concern in his voice as his hands squeezed Asher’s waist. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“ Please. I need it. You promised me anything I wanted.”

Impossibly, Markus’s eyes darkened further. “How could I possibly say no to that?”

Lifting him by waist, Markus deposited Asher onto his feet before unclasping his belt and ridding himself of his pants and underwear. He laid back on the bed. “Come here, baby,” he coaxed.

Asher blinked in confusion, so focused on the man’s huge, angry-looking cock, that it took a second to understand what he’d said. “You- you want me to ride you?” he asked nervously.

This was new territory for them. Markus was always the one on top – the one in control – when they had sex, and Asher liked it the way. The prospect of switching roles was intimidating.

“I want you to take what you need from Daddy,” Markus clarified, beckoning him closer.

“I- okay,” Asher hesitantly agreed, carefully climbing on top of the man.

Markus must have been able to sense his nervousness because he rubbed his hands up and down Asher’s thighs in a soothing manner. “You’ve got this, baby,” he assured.

Taking a deep breath, Asher took Markus by the root of his cock, ignoring the man’s grunt as he lined it up with his spit-sticky entrance. “Easy now,” Markus said. “Take your time.”

A moan escaped, and Asher couldn’t control the way his eyelids fluttered as he slowly lowered himself onto the man’s cock, his hole stretching to accommodate its mushroom head. “That’s it, sweetheart. Nice and slow.”

It was downright maddening the way Markus sounded so in control, even now, with Asher hovering over him, the man’s cock halfway buried in his ass. Maybe it was wrong, but Asher wanted to change that. He wanted to make him snap.

Which is why he disregarded the man’s advice, and abruptly sat, impaling himself on the rest of Markus’s cock in one swift motion.

A string of cuss words catapulted from the man’s mouth, the grip he had on Asher’s thighs tightening to near bruising levels.

As for Asher, his breath caught in his throat at how full he felt like this. It felt like the man’s cock was in his stomach and that if he looked down, he’d see it bulging beneath his skin. Human anatomy didn’t actually work that way, of course, but the thought of it was enough to make Asher burn hot with desire.

He clenched experimentally around the man’s cock.

Markus moaned, the sound guttural, and that was all the encouragement Asher needed to start slowly rocking back and forth. “That’s it, baby. Just like that,” Markus praised, but the raspiness in his voice, along with the jumping muscles in his stomach, was proof of his rapidly disintegrating control.

Growing more confident, Asher began bouncing up and down, thigh muscles burning as he worked his hips in tight circles over the man’s dick. “Am I doing good?” he goaded.

“You’re driving me fucking crazy,” Markus assured, and Asher believed him, the gleam in his eyes appearing distinctly deranged in the dim lighting of the motel room.

“Yeah?”

“You have no idea the things I want to do to you,” he promised darkly.

“Tell me,” Asher demanded.

“I don’t want to scare you.”

Asher clenched purposefully around Markus’s cock. “You don’t scare me.”

A muscle in the man’s jaw twitched. Then… “I want to hold you down and fuck you so hard that you’ll be feeling me for days afterward. Pump you so full of my cum that your stomach fucking distends with it and you’re leaking like a broken faucet all over the sheets.”

Asher whimpered at the picture the man’s filthy words painted.

“You wouldn’t be able to move by the time I was done with you,” he continued. “ Wouldn’t even be able to think . Fucked too stupid for the thought of running away from me to ever cross your mind again. I’d keep you in my bed and take care of you, always. Daddy’s perfect little pillow princess.”

“Please,” Asher whined, unable to take it anymore.

“Please what?”

Asher’s face warmed. “I- I want that,” he admittedly shyly.

A groan. “Ask nicely,” the man demanded gruffly.

Fuck.

Asher took a deep breath, working up the nerve to say it out loud. “Please fuck me , Daddy. Fuck me so hard that I can’t move afterwards, fuck me until I’m stupid and the only thing I can think about is you and your cock, until your cum is dripping down my legs-”

Asher didn’t even get the chance to finish before Markus was wrapping his arms around Asher’s waist and flipping them around, switching their positions so that he was on the one on top and Asher was beneath him – all the while ensuring his cock stayed snug in Asher’s hole.

Asher squealed at the suddenness of it, but Markus swiftly swallowed down that noise – along with all the other sounds he forced from Asher – when he crashed their lips together and pulled him into a violent, possessive kiss. The man’s tongue and lips dominated Asher’s own, until he could do little other than hold open his mouth and moan as Markus licked inside it.

Both men were breathing hard by the time he finally pulled away. “Such a polite boy,” Markus praised, the words a puff of warm air against Asher’s lips before the man’s hands were suddenly hooked under his knees, pushing them up to nearly his head and putting the most intimate part on his body on display.

Asher knew Markus didn’t like it when he hid from him, but it was a struggle not to cover his face in embarrassment as the man above him brazenly stared at where they were connected, an almost reverent gleam in his eye as he drank in the sight. “Look at your greedy, little hole eating up my cock. Fuck.”

An involuntary shudder went through Asher at the dirty words.

Still, he wasn’t prepared for Markus to touch the place where they were connected, fingers tracing Asher’s puffy rim, where it was stretched wide around the man’s cock.

Asher’s orgasm took him completely by surprise, his eyes rolling into the back of his head and his hole constricting uncontrollably at the intimate touch.

“Fuck,” he heard Markus curse above him. “Fuckfuck fuck!”

Readjusting his grip on Asher’s knees, the man pounded into him relentlessly as Asher’s hole continued to spasm around his cock. Asher whimpered at the sensation, his overstimulated prostate overwhelmed by the rough treatment, yet reveling in it at the same time.

It didn’t take long for Markus’s thrusts to grow erratic, and he buried his cock into Asher one last time before tensing, and Asher felt the incomparable sensation of hot cum flooding his insides.

He was grateful when instead of collapsing afterwards and crushing him, Markus transitioned them so that Asher was once again the one on top. Tucking Asher’s head under his chin, he ran soothing hands up and down his arms and back and whispered sweet nothings into his hair.

Too bad Asher was too sexed out to understand them.

He was borderline too warm with his naked, sweaty body plastered against Markus’s, but he didn’t care. He had never felt so safe and cared for in his life, and he’d gladly lay there in Markus’s arms and float in this head space forever.

Unfortunately, the spell was broken when Markus’s spent cock eventually slipped out of his hole and the man’s cum began trickling down his leg. “No-o-o,” he whined.

“Shh,” Markus shushed him, plugging him with two fingers. Asher gasped at the sensation, but immediately calmed. “It’s alright,” the man assured. “You’re okay.”

It probably wasn’t until another twenty minutes had passed that Asher finally began to come down from his high, feeling more than a little embarrassed that he’d almost cried over losing the man’s cum – even if Markus was unbelievably understanding about it.

“You with me, baby?” Markus asked, seemingly able to sense him coming back to himself.

Asher managed a weak nod, but a disapproving rumble sounding from deep inside Markus’s chest forced him to reconsider the inadequate answer.

“Y-yes,” he stuttered, “I’m here.”

At the verbal confirmation, Markus’s fingers finally left his hole. “I’m going to get something to clean us up.”

With Asher’s reluctant acquiescence, Markus got up out of bed and disappeared into the bathroom. Asher heard the telltale sound of running water before the man returned with a pair of damp washcloths. He refused to hand either of them over to Asher, insisting on cleaning him himself before finally focusing on his own sticky body.

Asher sat on the bed, staring at his lap and nervously wringing the sheets as he waited for Markus to returned from the bathroom, where he’d gone to dispose of the washcloths. The mattress dipped under the man’s weight when he sat beside him, but it wasn’t until Markus’s hands cupped either side of his face and made him look up that Asher finally met his eyes. “We need to talk,” the man said simply.

Asher’s stomach clenched at words. “I-” he started, a panicked apology on the tip of his tongue.

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry.”

Asher snapped his mouth shut.

While it was true that Markus had probably fucked more than a few of his brain cells loose a short while ago, Asher was pretty sure he should have been the one apologizing. Not Markus.

“I never should have spanked you without discussing it with you first and getting your explicit consent,” Markus continued, ignoring Asher’s shell-shocked expression. “I just got so worked up hearing you refer to yourself in such a derogatory manner… I needed to make it – make you – stop. But that’s not a valid excuse for laying my hands on you.” Markus gently thumbed the thin, fragile skin under Asher’s eyes. “Do you think you can find it in yourself to forgive me?”

There was nothing to forgive as far as Asher was concerned. He wrapped his hands around Markus’s wrists, carefully prying them from his face so that he could properly hug the man. “Of course,” Asher said, all but throwing himself into Markus’s lap and burying his nose into the crook of his neck. “I’m sorry, too,” he admitted. “When I sent those messages, I didn’t… I never thought you would think… I never meant to scare you,” he settled on eventually.

Markus leaned back just enough so that Asher was forced to look up at him. He waited until their gazes were locked before asking, “What did you think would happen when I saw them? When I got home from my trip and saw all the gifts I’ve ever given you lying in a pile on my bed?”

Asher gnawed nervously on his bottom lip. “I don’t know.”

Markus sighed, plucking the lip out from between Asher’s teeth before he could do any real damage. “You didn’t think I’d be distraught?” he pressed.

“I knew you’d be upset,” Asher admitted, “but I figured you’d get over it after a while. A couple weeks, maybe. I thought you’d find someone new – someone less problematic.”

“Honey, in case it’s not clear to you by now, I could go the rest of my life and never get over you. Do I really need to remind you how lovely I find you? Shall I make you say all those things again? How beautiful you are, how smart and fierce and lovable-”

Asher flushed, slapping a frazzled hand over Markus’s mouth. “That’s not necessary,” he mumbled.

Markus removed Asher's hand from his mouth. “Then are you ready to tell me what happened while I was gone?” he asked. “What made you run from me? Who planted those awful lies in your head?”

Asher knew that the least the man deserved was an explanation for his seemingly bizarre behavior. But that didn’t make it any easier for Asher to admit what had happened – who had been the catalyst of his meltdown.

He hated talking about it – about her . He very rarely spoke of his mother, even to Danny, who’d been a constant through his less-than-stellar childhood. For Markus, though, he would make himself do it.

“It… it was my mother,” he admitted meekly.

“Your mother?” Markus prompted, a tiny frown tugging at the corners of his mouth as he brushed a wayward curl from Asher’s forehead. “The drug addict?”

Asher flushed, nodding miserably. “She showed up at my apartment a few days after you left for New York,” he explained, “but before that I hadn’t seen her in years.” A pause. “She disappeared shortly after I left for college. When I came home for winter break after my first semester, I found our house in foreclosure and my mom… she was just gone.”

The frown on Markus’s face grew more pronounced. “Oh honey…”

“It’s fine,” Asher assured, even though it obviously wasn’t . “I wasn’t all that surprised. It’s awful to say out loud, but as scared and worried for her as I was… I was also kind of relieved.” He glanced up at Markus. “Does that make me a horrible person?”

“You’re the best person I know, baby,” the man immediately assured. “And from what little I’ve heard about her, it sounds like your mother was a piss poor excuse for a parent.”

The urge to defend his mother – to excuse away her behavior – hit him hard like it always did. It was a habit he’d never quite shaken from childhood. “It’s not all her fault,” Asher blurted, knowing he sounded defensive, but unable to do anything about it. “My dad left us when I was just a toddler. It’s tough, raising a kid on your own.”

Millions of single parents do it every day , a voice in his head pointed out, but Asher promptly ignored it.

Judging by his stoic expression, Markus thought similarly, but to his credit, he didn’t try to refute him, and Asher felt himself settle. He allowed Markus to reorganized the both of them so that they were once again lying in bed, Asher curled up beside him with a leg thrown over Markus’s thighs and his head resting on Markus’s chest.

“Tell me more,” the man demanded, gently squeezing his hip.

Asher sighed, tracing a finger along one of the man’s tattoos. “Looking back on it, I suppose it was only a matter of time until we lost the house. Most days my mom was too drunk or high to perform basic functions, let alone hold down a job. It’s a miracle, really, that she managed to hold onto it for as long as she did.”

“Sweetheart… if she didn’t have a job, how did she feed you?” Markus pressed.

She didn’t. At least, not regularly. But Asher didn’t think Markus would take hearing how many nights he’d had to force himself to sleep with an empty stomach very well, so Asher shrugged, and answered, “Welfare, mostly.”

He would tell him some other time how he’d survived mainly on free school lunches and the kindness of Danny’s family. He’d already faced enough emotional upheaval for one day.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Markus said, pressing a kiss into his hair. “You deserved – still deserve – so much better.”

“It’s fine,” Asher assured, “I’m over it.” Liar. “Or I thought I was, anyway, until she showed up unannounced at my apartment.”

“How did she find you?” Markus asked, the hand on his hip beginning to rub up and down his side in a comforting motion. Asher forced himself to focus on the sensation of the man’s hand against his skin instead of the words about to come out of his mouth.

“I’m not sure how she got my address,” Asher confessed, “but her motive for tracking me down was pretty obvious. She saw a picture of the two of us in the paper, and well… your reputation precedes you.”

Markus was a smart man; Asher didn’t need to explain what he meant. The hand on his side stilled. “She tried to shake you down?”

“Yeah,” Asher admitted shamefacedly, despite the fact that he wasn’t the one who’d done anything wrong. “She made up a convoluted story about being behind on rent, but it was obvious she was lying when she refused my offer to pay her landlord directly. She wanted cash, and I could only think of one thing she’d use it for so… I didn’t give her any.”

He knew it was the right decision, but his mother’s words echoed in his head – “How could you treat your own mother this way?” – and he couldn’t help but look to Markus, seeking the man’s approval.

“I’m glad, baby,” he immediately assured. “You made the right choice.”

Relief filled Asher. Even if he couldn’t always trust his own judgement, he knew Markus would never lead him astray. Still… “She got pretty mad when I said I wouldn’t give her any money.”

Asher felt the man beneath him tense. “Did she hurt you?” he asked stiffly.

Before he could stop himself, Asher’s gaze drifted to his bandaged palm. Markus spotted the movement, and a thundercloud bloomed across his face as he snatched up the wrist of Asher’s injured hand to better examine it. Truthfully, Asher was surprised the man hadn’t commented on it earlier, though they been a tad… preoccupied. “Did she do this?” he demanded curtly.

“Not on purpose,” Asher denied. “She broke-” – the picture frame I got you for Christmas – “-a mug on the floor. I cut myself picking up the shards.”

It was close enough to the truth.

Asher couldn’t tell if Markus bought his explanation, but after a moment, the man only sighed and brought the hand to his face, placing a tender kiss just under the edge of the bandage – on Asher’s fluttering pulse point. “What else did she do?” he asked.

It was worded as a question, but Markus’s tone made it clear that it was only a curtsey. Asher would be made to answer whether he liked it or not.

“She just said some mean things,” he revealed, nibbling nervously on the inside of his cheek. “How it was my fault that her life turned out the way it did. How my father wouldn’t have left if I wasn’t born a useless, defective faggot. How she wished she’d have just drowned me as a baby-”

Asher wasn’t expecting Markus’s mouth to suddenly attach itself to his own – a violent mashing of the lips more than a kiss. By the time he processed what was happening, the man had already pulled away. “Your mother is a horrid bitch,” he snarled. “You were a kid and in no way responsible for the choices of grown-ass adults. Do you understand?”

Asher swallowed hard, suddenly finding Markus’s muscled chest very interesting.

“Look at me,” Markus commanded, waiting until Asher reluctantly met his gaze before repeating himself. “Do you understand?”

“I understand,” he managed after a moment. “But I’m not a child anymore. And I care about you – so much. I don’t ever want to hurt you, or- or ruin anything for you. It would tear me apart if you came to resent me the same way that she does one day-”

“You’re not hearing me, Asher,” the man cut him off. “Your mother is a fucking snake – a dirty liar, whose mind has been addled by drugs. The only reason I’m not going to hunt her down after this is because I know you wouldn’t like it. Because you’re too fucking good for this world. You didn’t ruin her life; she ruined her life. And the only way you could ever hurt me is by pulling another disappearing act.” Markus searched his eyes. “Do you believe me?”

And looking into the man’s earnest gaze, Asher found it impossible not to. “I believe you.”

Asher could practically see the tension drain from the man’s shoulders at his response. “Thank God,” he muttered, pressing a kiss to Asher’s temple before burying his face into his hair. He sounded so relieved that Asher immediately felt guilty.

He sniffled. “I’m sorry.”

“I know, baby,” Markus assured. “I’m not mad at you. But last night was miserable, so the next time you’re feeling like this, just talk to me, okay? We’ll work through it together.”

Asher immediately nodded his agreement. “Okay.”

He spent the next several minutes quietly enjoying the feeling of being snug in Markus’s embrace. It wasn’t until he was on the verge of falling asleep that the man broke the comfortable silence they’d fallen into. “Can I ask you something?” he asked.

“Of course,” he mumbled.

“Did you mean it?”

“Did I mean what?”

“The second to last text message you sent me,” the man clarified. “Did you mean it?”

Asher tensed. He immediately knew what Markus was referring to, and it was enough to rip him from the Sandman’s welcoming embrace.

I love you.

Feeling shy, Asher propped himself up on an elbow and looked up at the man under his eyelashes. “Did you mean it?” he hedged. “You know, when you…” When you were finger-fucking me within an inch of my life, a voice helpfully supplied.

Markus didn’t hesitate. “Absolutely.”

A joy so bright and profound bloomed in Asher’s chest that it felt a little like someone had lit fireworks inside him. “I meant it, too,” he admitted.

He didn’t know if Markus was experiencing the same happiness at his confession, but judging by the way the man immediately pulled him close and covered his lips with his own, the answer was yes.

The kiss was unlike any of the others they’d shared thus far tonight – slow and unhurried as they languidly explored each other’s mouths, no expectation to take things further as they breathed each other in, basking in each other’s warmth-

Bang! Bang! Bang!

“We’ve been waiting out here for over a fucking hour! I swear to God, if you’ve hurt him-”

Asher’s eyebrows shot up, jerking his head in the direction of the door before turning back to Markus, wide-eyed. “Are my friends here?” he asked incredulously.

Markus seemed annoyed, glaring dangers at the door – or rather, the person on the other side of the door. “We were working together to find you after I showed up at their apartment, demanding to be let in to see you.”

“Oh.” Asher frowned. “How did you find me, anyway?”

“When you turned on your phone to text Danny, I was able to track it,” he answered succinctly.

Asher blinked. “Ah.” That made sense, he supposed. Somehow it had slipped his mind that Markus had bought him his current phone and probably had access to his location through the service provider.

Perturbed that he’d forgotten such crucial information – even if it had clearly worked out in his favor – Asher almost didn’t notice the distinctly bitter edge to Markus’s voice. Almost.

And he had a feeling he knew the cause.

“You know… the only reason I messaged Danny instead of you was because I knew I wouldn’t have been able to turn the phone back off if I’d have chosen you. I wouldn’t have been able to resist waiting for you to message me back. And I have no doubt I would have answered if you called.”

Markus’s expression softened at the revelation.

“Asher, fucking speak so that know that you’re okay,” Sasha hollered through the door, breaking the tenderness of the moment.

Asher huffed. “I’m fine, Sasha!” he called.

A pause. “Not for long. Because I’m going to fucking murder you when I get in there – strangle you with my bare hands, to be specific. Do you have any idea how fucking worried I was?”

Markus raised his eyebrows. “Are you threatening my boyfriend?” he asked, his gaze remaining focused on Asher, monitoring him for his reaction.

Asher just rolled his eyes.

“Damn right I am.”

“Uh… what Sasha means to say is that you had us scared to death, Asher,” Danny finally spoke up, confirming his presence outside the motel room door. “But we wouldn’t put our hands on you in the name of violence. Ever. Obviously.”

“Speak for yourself,” Sasha immediately retorted.

Asher and Markus listened as they continued to squabble with each other outside the door.

Markus sighed. “Do we have to let them in?” he asked, the question sounding the closest to a whine that Asher had ever heard from the man.

Asher laughed, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to Markus’s mouth before once again snuggling into his embrace. “They can wait a few minutes more.”