Date: Sat, 18 Jan 2014 00:21:49 +0700
From: Robert Glass <robxglass@gmail.com>
Subject: Marc and Luke chapter 1

All right reserved. Any unauthorized use is prohibited. This is a
fiction. Any resemblance to people and/or events is coincidental. If
reading this deemed illegal to you, I implore you to stop. If it offends
you, please do not read on.

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CHAPTER 1: Dashing Prince or Horny Toad?


Call him. Don't call him. Just call him. No, you stupid fuck, don't!

"Luke!" Fuck, I call him. He's not aware where the voice is coming. Good! I
should hide. What? What the fuck am I doing? Okay, I'll just wave my hand.

"Uh..." His hesitation is too loud, it bothers me.

Does he even remember me? I thought the sex were awesome. At least it was
awesome to me. "It's me..."

"Marcus!" His face shows success. He didn't remember me.

"Or Marc, if you're feeling casual." I chuckle. Not smooth at all. What's
wrong with me? I usually lead, now I'm lost in a limbo. He looked really
good, still in the same coat I saw him in the first time we met and the
second time we saw each other. I had to make a comment. "You look good."

"Thanks. Sorry I didn't remember your name for a second. I've had a
stressful day at work. My mind is..."  his hand made a twisting gesture. He
didn't even return the compliment. I was pretty sure he was working at
Coles. Perhaps he's a manager or probably a cashier. Those jobs can be
stressful.

I realize that the silence between us has gone on too long. I snap. "I was
wondering if... Can I buy you a drink, you know, just to relief the
stress?" Whoa, I'm too nervous.

"I'll have to pass. I need to get some sleep and I think I need to fall
asleep sober tonight." No hesitation whatsoever. He's returned to his blunt
self.

"Or coffee, maybe."

"Coffee prevents me from sleeping." He tilts his head; his smile is mocking
my integrity. "I should run."  He waves his hand goodbye once with a shrug
just to make it look cute. It does look cute.

"Luke!" I call again. Why the hell am I getting so worked up about him?

"Yes?" He seems frustrated.

"Uh... good night?" Good night? With a question mark?

"Good night." He doesn't even miss a beat.

I run towards him. I'm so worked up. "Luke!"

"What Marc? Do you want to fuck again? I'd love to, but I can't. I need
some sleep."

Why did he choose that word? 'Fuck'. Why not 'having sex' instead? After
the things and the way we conversed in our two encounters I would assume he
would be more demure with his diction, not crass.  He might be blunt, but
he was not crass. He is now.

"Okay, okay. I'll call you later," I say.

"You don't have my number."

"You have my number but you never called me. If you give me your number, I
will definitely call you." I smile, as seductively as I usually can.

"Exactly the reason I don't give you my number. Goodbye."

He turns and leaves, I grab his arm. Reflex, muscle memory, old
habit... call it whatever you want, but I've done it. He glares at his
upper arm, at where my hand made contact with his limb. His eyes shows
disbelief and anger. Then he looks at me with another nuance. It's
wicked. Why can't I let go of his arm?

"What do you think you're doing?" He asks.

"Sorry." I let go of him. This is pretty scary.

"Look, Marc. Go find someone else to fuck tonight. I'm not in the mood. I
don't think it would take that much effort to you. Come on, man, you have
that gorgeous face and gorgeous smile with gorgeous athletic hairy body and
exotic, I would like to guess, New Orleans accent. You can get any man you
want.  I don't get why you're so insistent in fucking me. Is it the power
play? It is, isn't it? I mean you're obviously a dominant person who enjoys
the company of a good submissive guy, and by learning from our times
together you can obviously see I'm not that, at all. I suspect that you
might bend the rule a little if you find a stronger man to dominate you
but, again, I'm not that. For your information, I'm not doing any sort of
power play or mind games here. It's too exhausting. I just find that you
were sexually satisfactory on our first time so I agreed to have a second,
which to me you underperformed. So no, I'm not going to fuck with you this
time for that reason, and also because I need to sleep. Are you fine with
that?"

What the fuck? What the fucking fuck? How... He didn't miss a thing;
everything was so fucking spot on.  Absolutely everything! He was right
about the New Orleans, he was right about my sexual preferences, and he
bruised my ego with his comment about my performance. He leaves, again. I
guess he took my wondering silence as a yes.

"Hey, Luke! Wait up. I'm not that bad, am I?" Of course I have to save my
ego first. I'm so stupid around him.

He stops, looking more annoyed than scary. "Again, I don't do mind
games. When I tell you something, it's not to manipulate you; it's the
truth." The delivery isn't petty at all, more of 'I'm sick of you calling
my name please leave me alone.'

"Maybe I can try to fix it."

"There's no fixing, Marc. What turns you on doesn't turn me on. We don't
match."

"But I like you." I confess. How lame.

"Marc, let's face it, you don't do like." He's right again. I don't do
like. But I do like him, a lot. I don't know why. He's not even my type. I
either go for a very effeminate skinny sub or a super masculine brute who I
just know has that spark of submission, waiting to be harvested.

I mistakenly thought he was a brute. Winter fooled me. He's big. He's 6'2"
to my 6'3". With the coat on he looked fit, broad and thick. I approached
him and we talked. That talk probably changed me. He was so full of
perspectives and insights that I didn't care that I found more flab than
definition when he uncovered himself from the warmth. He was the one who
talked most of the time and miraculously I listened. He was engaging and
calculative with the words he was saying. He smiles and laughs like nothing
I've witnessed before. I'm not used to it. Conversations, to me, are not
for exchanging philosophies, but to seduce a new meat.

He's also only halfway effeminate. He wore his complete masculinity as a
mask at first, I assume, just so that someone would be interested to start
talking to him. It worked on me. I noticed, and then tolerated it, then got
completely charmed as he shed that fake face off and shifted towards his
natural charisma.  Charisma... I don't use that word often.

But him? Fuck! Why the hell am I getting so worked up about him?

"I do, Luke." I smile again, as disarming as I can. I have a feeling this
signature move doesn't work on him.

"We've only met twice, three times including this. I haven't even told you
about myself, you only know how much I know about mundane things."

"I know you're not that at all, but I know that you're intelligent and
smart. I know that you're frank. Now I know that you can read the shit out
of people even when I didn't say anything; you're perceptive.  You're
definitely an interesting guy and I'd like to know more about you."

"Trust me, you don't want to do that."

"Are you a serial killer freak or something? I don't want to know more
about you then." I raise my two hands and try to look as cute as I
can. Man, I don't do cute; I do smoldering hot, not cute.

"Am I a freak?" He shrugs and smiles. "Just a little weirdo."

It works; my cutesy acts works! I'm still waiting for a response after that
soft laughter dies down. He looks behind him, wearisome.

"I'm in a little bit of dilemma here. I don't want to come with you at all
but on the other hand if I walk home now you will surely stalk me
there. Then again you already know where I work so it's only a matter of
time until you find out where I live. So, what do you suggest?" Blunt
and... open for an opportunity? This guy is weird.

"I suggest my place. No alcohol, no coffee, no sex. We can just talk until
you fall asleep, if you're up for it; I have a guest room. I promise I will
not follow you home, at least for a week. How about that?"  Charming smile.

"Fetching." His smile is way, way more charming than mine.



The first time I met him a month ago, I was engaged in an exchange that
seemingly opened my mind. It was an exchange that I was supposed to have
with my professor in the university, not my prospective cum dump in a gay
bar. He was adept in talking about the politic situations in Australia, the
place we are now, USA, the place where I'm from. He touched the subject of
geography, geology, and physics of the universe, along with the major that
I am in, which is microbiology, and discussed it from the cosmic
perspective of it all. Fuck! I just realized that he never talked about
himself all this time. He's hiding himself from me and it's now almost
clear why. How did he manage to read me completely when I didn't even talk
that much that night? How did he manage to do all that WHILE dispensing
incomprehensible philosophies without even catching a breath? So incredibly
smart of him. And he said he was a B-student and I'm a straight-A.

The second time I saw him two weeks ago, we didn't talk much. I was pretty
much butthurt by the fact that he didn't call me. I thought we had a
connection. I mean the sex was astounding, even if it was much too vanilla
to me. We were in the same gay bar. I approached him, he didn't remember my
name.  Well, looking back now, I guess the sex wasn't as memorable to him
as it was to me. That night I tried to flirt, he cut to the chase. We had
an earth shattering sixty-nine and I didn't see him when I woke up.  Maybe
it wasn't an earth shattering sixty-nine, maybe it was an unbelievable
blowjob to me while he didn't feel a thing. Fuck! This dude knew how to
hurt my ego. I'm fucking falling for him!

Is it the reason, though? Am I starting to have romantic inclination
towards this guy?

It's been an hour since I fucked him doggy style. Yeah, we broke our
promises about talking ourselves to sleep and had sex instead. Luke had to
jerk his own cock to completion and he's fast asleep. I had one of the best
orgasms in my life and I'm restless. I came to a realization: I am not that
good. Make that two; I have to have him! I don't even have his number! His
phone must be in his pocket. I snooped out of bed and try my best to snatch
his jeans in this unlit room. This pair of pants is what, size 40? The guys
I chase usually can fit into a size 32. Luke is fat, I guess. Somehow that
fact doesn't matter anymore.

I found his phone. I swiped the screen up to unlock it. Password. Fuck!

"Such a shame I don't use the new iPhone, huh?" His voice startles me; I
almost drop his stupid fucking phone!

"W... I..."

"Otherwise you can just press my thumb on it."

I need to gain control over this. I put his phone on the table next to his
head. I climbed on top of him.  Maybe I should kiss him. Is it too forward?
I usually kiss a guy only for aftercare, not because I want him to kiss me
back. Now, kissing seems to be out of line. "You're awake." I comment
instead. He reaches the back of my neck. Fuck yeah! He wants the kiss!

WRONG!

He uses his hand to shove me aside. I fall on the bed next to him. Cuddles?
I can do that for now. I still have an arm draped across his torso. Things
are soft and lush there. Why the fuck am I liking it? I only do ripped and
or skinny.

"I didn't sleep. Not with you tossing around every five seconds." His
unspecified accent is figuratively killing me. The way he removed my arm
from him and sat up almost literally kills me.

"Leaving so soon?" I hope my make believe flirty tone didn't betray my
trials to hide my panic. Don't leave, Luke!

"I have to work early tomorrow." He turns on the light and I can see his
body as a whole. Yeah, he's flab- tastic, and I do mean it in the best way
possible. He has a farmer's tan, he has acne on his shoulder and chest, and
he has stretch marks. I have to devour this somehow, because it's being
taken away from me to a possibility that I will never see him again.

"You're still not going to give me your number?"

"Seeing your performance tonight, I don't have the reason to."

Okay Luke, you need to stop stomping on my shattered ego. I have never felt
so dejected in my entire adult life. Maybe he's right, maybe I'm too
complacent, counting too much on my looks, and got used to have people not
rejecting me. Maybe he's right about us not having sexual
compatibility. But I felt good, why didn't he?

"Was it really that bad? The sex felt amazing to me." I just have to ask
before he leaves.

"You confuse orgasm with sex. Be honest, our fucking wasn't that exciting
to you, right?"

"Uh..." I still haven't wrapped my mind around it.

"I'll take that as a yes," he says as he wears that handsome coat on him.

I'm left speechless. Our sex is not good enough for him. I guess I'm not
intellectually compelling enough for him to stay anyway. "What did I do
wrong? You're killing me here." When did I start to be this pathetically
desperate?

"You don't like me," he says. "You like the chase." I can't even begin to
process that, he's been dropping so many bombs.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I say as he began walking slowly
towards the bed, towards me.

"You like the chase, Marc." He smiled. I just want to kiss that stupid
gorgeous face and make him mine.  It's a miracle I still have my
constraints. "Maybe this will help you catch up faster."

I don't see how he produced that piece of paper but I can see it now on my
bedside table. There are digits. I beamed, he closed my front door.


___
Yay, new story!

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