Textual Confusion, page 24
Asher’s eyes widened. “You own The Connoisseur?”
“You’ve heard of it?” Maggie asked, seemingly tickled that Asher knew of the place.
“Of course! It’s only the most famous art gallery on the west coast. My best friend is an artist, and she loves the place.”
“An artist, huh? Well, I’m always on the lookout for new talent. What medium does she work with?”
“Sasha’s good at a lot of things,” Asher insisted, always willing to gush over his friend's talent. “She dabbles in drawing and photography, but painting is her specialty. Realism, mostly, but she does some abstract work, too.”
“You’ll have to introduce us. If she’s as good as you say, I’m sure I can find some space for her work at The Connoisseur.”
Asher blinked. “I - really?” he asked, a thrill of secondhand excitement shooting down his spine. Sasha would flip when he told her.
“Of course. We’ll plan a day for all three of us to meet for lunch – or supper, if that works better – before you leave tomorrow.”
Asher turned to Markus, who’d been suspiciously quiet throughout their conversation. “Is that okay?”
As excited as he was for this opportunity for Sasha, the last thing he wanted was Markus to think he was using him for his family’s connections. (As opposed to using him for his money? Asher’s inner voice chimed in nastily, but he swatted it away.)
The hand on Asher’s leg gave his thigh a reassuring squeeze. “Of course. Mother loves discovering new talent, and you’re always going on about how brilliant Sasha is.”
Relieved, Asher turned back to Maggie, who was waiting patiently for an answer. “Sasha and I would love to meet you for lunch sometime. Thank you so much.”
“It’s nothing, darling,” Maggie assured. Her eyes lit up. “Perhaps you could invite your mother along as well. I’d love to meet the woman responsible for raising such a lovely young man.”
Asher felt his entire body, including his smile, suddenly turn to stone. He blinked, then licked his lips, forcing himself to speak. “Oh. That- that’s really nice of you, but my mother… she-” he struggled to explain.
Maggie released a horrified, little gasp, and Asher watched as understanding dawned in her eyes. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Asher. It was terribly insensitive of me to assume that she was still with us.”
Except, like most people, she’d come to the wrong conclusion.
“She’s not dead,” Asher blurted.
Maggie frowned. “Oh. Does she live far away then?”
“I- yes,” Asher replied, feeling tongue-tied. “I mean, no, I think she still lives in the city. The last time I heard from her, she did, anyway. It’s just Lorraine and I – that’s my mom’s name – we aren’t exactly close.”
It must have been obvious how uncomfortable he was discussing the topic because Maggie hurriedly assured, “You don’t owe us an explanation, sweetie.”
She was right.
Asher didn’t owe them or anyone else an explanation over why he’d gone no contact with his mother. But he could feel Markus’s gaze burning a hole in the side of his head with the concern he was radiating, and the grounding grip the man had on his leg gave him the wherewithal to continue.
“It’s okay. It’s just – my father left when I was young. I mean really young. I have two, maybe three memories of him. And my mother… she didn’t take it well, to say the least. She used drugs and alcohol to cope with his absence. Unfortunately, once she went down that road, she was never really able to find her way back, so…”
Maggie reached across the table and gripped one of his hands. “I’m so sorry, darling. Thank you for sharing that with us, and let me just say, I’m so glad you made it out of that situation and are here with us today.”
Asher cleared his throat, suddenly thick with tears. “Thank you.”
Asher was afraid that the gloomy confession about his lack of relationship with his addict mother would put a permanent damper on the rest of the evening, but Maggie expertly turned the conversation onto safer topics, and it wasn’t long until Asher was stifling his giggles as she told him embarrassing stories from Markus’s childhood. (Apparently, he had an older cousin who enjoyed dressing him up in tutus and fairy wings.)
Asher was feeling sated and comfortable by the time everyone was finished with their meal and they moved into the drawing room to play cards. Markus’s father was appalled that Asher didn’t know how to play poker, and he insisted Asher sit with him as he taught him how to play.
The rules of the game seemed complicated, but eventually Asher caught on and Abram allowed him to play a few of his hands. The game itself was fun, but Asher’s favorite part was witnessing literal billionaires accuse each other of cheating as they squabbled over pocket change.
At some point, Maggie brought an old photo album out and showed Asher some pictures that left him in stitches. One of Markus in the fabled tutu and fairy wings combo, and one of him screaming in Santa’s lap at Christmastime. (Apparently, he’d had a Santa phobia as a kid.)
After a while, Maggie also brought out the pecan pie Asher had made along with some ice cream. Both Markus’s parents showered him with compliments, gushing about the sweet, yet nutty flavor of the pie.
“It’s alright, I supposed,” Markus said, earning him a slap on the knee from his mother and a disapproving frown from his father. Asher just sighed. Looks like he’d have to keep trying to find something the man liked.
The sky was dark, and Asher’s stomach and heart both felt full when he and Markus finally retired to their bedroom.
Asher was too tired to shower, so he just washed his face and brushed his teeth before crawling into bed. Markus joined him moments later, curling around him in the usual manner, hooking his chin over the top of Asher’s head and wrapping an arm around his middle.
“Your parents are nice,” Asher said, snuggling into his pillow. “I really like them.”
Markus snorted. “I think it’s safe to say that the feeling is mutual. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were downstairs right now trying to figure out if it’s legal to adopt a twenty-three-year-old.”
Asher wrinkled his nose. “But that would make us brothers, which… ew.”
Markus nuzzled his nose into Asher’s hair. “Eh. I’d still fuck you.”
“Markus!”
“What? It’s the truth! Even if my parents did find some way to adopt you, it’s not like we came from the same womb. Hell, we didn’t even grow up together. In this particular case, I think it’d be morally acceptable for me to fuck my own brother."
Asher cringed. “Ugh. Can we stop talking about metaphorical incest now? Please? Let’s just be glad we aren’t brothers and leave it at that.”
“Fine.”
A pause. So long that Asher began to grow drowsy under the warmth of the comforter, Markus’s protective arm a heavy weight across his belly. Then…
“You never told me about your mom.”
Asher felt himself stiffen, the relaxed atmosphere that had him on the verge of sleep gone just like that. Markus’s words weren’t accusatory, but they had Asher’s defenses rising, anyway – his typical response when the subject of his mother came up. “What? The fact that I have a druggie mom didn’t show up on my background check?”
It was Markus’s turn to freeze, the arm curled around his stomach stiffening before squeezing him tight. “Excuse me?”
“Just because we’re having sex and pretending to be in a relationship doesn’t mean you get to know everything about me.”
Asher didn’t know why he was so suddenly angry at Markus. He’d made a choice to open up about his miserable childhood and his mother’s addiction to drugs at supper, after all. (Although he kept the details sparse enough.) It was only natural for the man to be curious.
In hindsight, Asher really should have seen Markus’s reaction to his sass coming.
In the blink of an eye, the man had him pinned to the bed, wrists pressed into the soft mattress on either side of his head as Markus hovered over him. “What’s this about?” he demanded. “Why are you copping an attitude with me?”
He seemed more confused than angry, which just riled Asher more. He didn’t want to be the only one upset, the only one allowing himself to be ruled by his emotions – as irrational and out-of-the blue as they were. “Quit talking to me like I’m a little kid.”
“Then quit acting like one.”
Asher rolled his eyes.
Which was a mistake, apparently. Markus released one of his wrists to take him by the chin. “Don’t roll your eyes at me.”
Then again, maybe it wasn’t a mistake, if it finally got a reaction out of the man. “Or what?” Asher asked. “What are you going to do about it?”
He rolled his eyes again for good measure, and the pressure around his jaw tightened. “Your eyes will be rolling into the back of your head for a completely different reason soon if you don’t quit.”
Good, Asher thought. Fuck me until I don’t have to think about anything anymore except how well your huge cock fills me up.
Instead of answering verbally, however, Asher arched his back so he could rub his half-hard dick against the man looming over him.
A muscle in Markus’s jaw ticked at the action. “Are you trying to provoke me right now?”
Asher honestly didn’t know what he was doing. He had been perfectly content a few minutes ago, but for some reason, the mention of his mother brought back every negative emotion he’d experienced throughout the day. The anxiety. The guilt. The heartache.
Asher wanted it all to just go away. He wanted to stop having to think about it all. Feel it all.
He wanted Markus to fuck him until his head – and his heart – were empty.
So he licked his lips, satisfied when Markus stared after his tongue, and replied, “So what if I am?”
Markus’s already dark eyes were nearly black as he pressed down on Asher, until their chests were touching and Markus’s knee was a solid pressure against his fast-forming erection. “You want me to fuck you that badly?” he taunted, voice low. “Are you really that desperate for my cock, that you’ll beg for it, even with my parents sleeping down the hall?”
Asher felt his face heat despite himself. “They won’t hear us. Their bedroom’s not even in the same wing.” (Not something Asher ever thought he would say aloud.)
“Oh, so you’ve thought this through, hm?”
Asher had just about enough of the man’s teasing. “Fine,” he spat, knowing full well what he was about to say was probably a mistake, but unable to stop himself. “If you don’t want to fuck me, just say so. Let me go, so I can find someone else to do the job-”
Asher didn’t even get the chance to finish his sentence before Markus was legitimately snarling in his face. “No one touches you but me.”
Asher wasn’t deterred. “Then I guess I’ll just have to find a toy to fuck myself on-”
“You think a piece of silicone can satisfy that needy hole of yours?” Markus spat. “Nothing and no one can fill you up like I can. Not even you.”
“Then fucking prove it,” Asher demanded. His cock was almost unbearably hard at this point, and he couldn’t resist the urge to shamelessly grind his erection against Markus’s knee.
“You think you deserve to have my cock in you after acting like such a brat? Sassing me, and talking about letting some other piece of shit asshole touch you?”
Asher whimpered when Markus gripped his waist, stopping him from rutting against his leg and creating any more of that delicious friction. “I’m sorry, okay? Just-”
“Just what?” Markus snapped. “Reward your bratty behavior, and give you exactly what you want by fucking you stupid? I don’t think so.”
Asher whined in distress. He could feel Markus’s stiff cock pressed against his belly. It felt as achingly hard as his own; Asher could practically feel it pulsating through the man’s boxers. So close to where he wanted it. “But you want it, too,” he pointed out.
“What I want is a good boy who treats his Daddy with respect. One who uses his words and asks nicely when he needs to be fucked stupid instead of acting like a brat and trying to manipulate me.”
Part of Asher wanted to pout, but all of him he wanted exactly what Markus was accusing him of: to be fucked dumb. So he did precisely as the man asked and begged. “Please, pretty please, will you fuck me?”
Markus’s jaw clenched, and Asher thought for sure he had him when-
“No. I don’t think you’re sorry enough yet.”
Asher was literally on the verge of crying in frustration when an idea popped into his head. “Then let me prove how sorry I am.”
“And how do you plan on doing that?”
“Let me up,” Asher said. “Please,” he hastily added at Markus’s unimpressed glower. “I want to show you.”
Markus seemed skeptical, but after a moment, he released Asher and sat up on the bed. Asher immediately sprang up, scurrying to the floor, where he promptly dropped to his knees. He looked up at Markus expectantly under his eyelashes.
“What are you doing?” the man asked, but the intense look in his eyes and gravel in his voice told Asher he already knew the answer.
“I’m sorry for acting like such a brat, Daddy. Can I pretty please made it up to you by sucking your cock?”
The gruff “fuck” that escaped Markus’s mouth sent a shiver shooting down Asher spine. “You want to show Daddy how good you can be?”
Ashe nodded eagerly.
“Then open your mouth.”
Asher didn’t need to be told twice. He readily parted his lips, waiting impatiently for Markus to pull down his boxers and feed him his cock.
But he didn’t.
Instead, Markus bent down, grasped Asher by the back of his neck, and spat into his mouth.
Asher stiffened, a little shocked. Sure, Markus had spit into his mouth before, but only while kissing, and only after asking first. This was different. It was an act of pure dominance, of the man lording his authority over Asher.
It should have been humiliating, but Asher’s cock ached where it strained against his underwear. “Swallow,” Markus demanded hoarsely, and Asher did. Markus watched his Adam’s apple bob with dark satisfaction.
“Good boy.”
Asher was rewarded for his obedience with more than just praise. Markus finally reached down to free his erection from his boxers. His cock was nearly purple, the veins protruding from the thick shaft in a way that made Asher want to trace them with his tongue. Saliva pooled in his mouth at the thought.
With one hand still cradling the back of Asher’s head, Markus used the other to grab himself by the root of his cock and bring it closer to Asher’s eager mouth.
Asher parted his lips in anticipation.
“If you want me to stop, pinch my thigh,” Markus ordered sternly.
Asher nodded his agreement, although he couldn’t foresee a scenario where he’d do such a thing. He’d gladly asphyxiate on the massive cock before him. But if Asher was expecting Markus to immediately thrust into his mouth, he was sorely mistaken. The man seemed to take great pleasure in gently slapping the head of his cock against Asher’s cheeks, his chin, his tongue – which had eagerly lolled out of his mouth in anticipation.
Markus was taunting him.
Asher whined, the pathetic noise coming from deep in the back of his throat. “Don’t tease me,” he complained.
“Beg me for it. Beg me to feed you my fat cock.”
Asher was well past the point of feeling any shame and immediately complied. “Please, please feed me it.”
“Tell me how much you need it.”
“I need it so bad. I’ll die without it. I’m sorry for what I said before. No one could ever fill me up as well as you do. Please, Daddy-”
Asher gagged when Markus suddenly rutted into his mouth, the man’s cockhead striking the back of his throat. Markus immediately pulled out. “Sorry, baby,” he apologized, shushing Asher as he coughed. “Daddy got a little carried away.”
Asher shook his head. “I want it,” he croaked once his gag reflex was back under control.
But Markus was exceedingly careful after that, keeping a close eye on Asher’s reactions as he began to thrust shallowly into his mouth, slowly slipping in more and more of his cock until Asher could comfortably take over half the length.
But Asher could tell Markus was holding back. He was being almost too gentle, clearly afraid of hurting him. Apparently, he didn’t think Asher could handle the entirety of his dick.
Asher wanted nothing more than to prove him wrong, to make him lose grip of the careful control he always had over himself. So the next time Markus tried to pull out, Asher grabbed him by the buttocks, dove forward, and swallowed him whole.
Markus stiffened, a string of cuss words catapulting from his mouth, but Asher didn’t catch them. He was too focused on how the man’s cock felt buried all the way down this throat. The way his pubic hair scratched against his cheeks. The spicy scent of the man in his nose. The salty taste of him on his tongue.
He hummed around the man’s cock, the vibrations causing more cursing before, suddenly, the hand carefully cradling the back of his neck was buried in his hair, fingers pulling until his scalp burned. Markus used the grip he had on Asher’s hair to move him up and down his dick.
“Fuck, look at you. So desperate for Daddy’s cock. Such a needy baby. You’re literally drooling for it.”
It wasn’t even a lie. Asher could feel saliva leaking from the corners of his mouth as Markus used his throat as a cock sleeve, thrusting in and out as Asher gurgled around his thick length, tears leaking from his eyes as he struggled to breathe through his nose.
All the while, he stared up at Markus with adoration.
