Date: Sun, 16 Feb 2014 22:33:35 +0700
From: Robert Glass <robxglass@gmail.com>
Subject: Marc and Luke chapter 7

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 7: Remnants of Joy and Disaster


"That wasn't so bad, was it?" I say to Luke.

"Bad? She's basically a stranger. It's hard enough to say it to you. How
the hell am I going to say it to her?" He took my arm as we walked from the
bus stop. I walk slowly, he likes to go fast. "There are 11 more sessions
to go and I feel like I'm wasting your money."

"We are not." I remind him about 'us' as an item.

"She ridicules our relationship, Marc. I mean we're together for only four
months and now we're seeing a therapist together; it does seem quite
ridiculous. If it wasn't for my depression, we wouldn't have to go to a
couple's therapy and you wouldn't have to pay for drugs that make me sleep
less. How is that not wasting your money?" His medication helps with the
blues but not the sleeping.

His guilt is another thing that I don't know how to handle. He thinks that
he should have done everything differently every time things go wrong. And
things go wrong a lot for him. He dwells in his mind too much and he just
can't let go. Even when I took some of his burden off him, he took more for
himself. And this is a mild depression? I can't imagine what the major one
looks like.


We flop on the couch when we reached my apartment. He doesn't say a word
but I know he's tired. I can tell that he wants to complain but he doesn't
want to complain to me. He tried to stop complaining because he said that
nobody wants to hear it. Honestly, Luke, I do want to.

"Are you tired?" I ask.

"Not really." That means that he is.

"Beer? Water?" I offer. "Wine? Bourbon? Scotch?"

"I'll get us beer." He is standing up when I jump off my seat.

"I'll do that," I say. He has to let me do things for him instead of the
other way around. I knew he's trying to make up for what I give him. But
he's my boyfriend and boyfriends do things with and for each other.  It's
never one way. It's the same with couple's therapy; he gets to take care of
his depression and I get to know how to take care of him. He's my
boyfriend, not my servant.

He's only my servant when we have sex. I must say that he plays as my
servant very well in many of our sex fantasies. My fantasies, really; he
was just so eager to try it all. God, I went from being concerned for him
to being horny. Even my dick is already growing. I hope he doesn't notice
that. It feels inappropriate in a time like this.

He notices. He's eyeing my jean-cladded crotch when I return with two
bottles of beer.

He takes a bottle from my hand and I sat next to him. He takes a swig and
looks me in the eyes with the meanest, scariest look on his face. "You like
serving me, boy?" he asks.

Fuck, Luke! Now my dick is rock hard. I'm indeed taken aback by his
question. However, the way he asked it sent a strong signal to my aching
cock. I have a dominant edge most of the time but when I see a tougher,
stronger Dom, I will kneel and serve him. Right now he's that
guy. "Y... Y... Yes, Sir. Anything for you, Sir." My response comes out
from within my primal nature.

He takes another swig and almost spit it out. He laughs. "I'm sorry. I
didn't mean to tease you. I didn't think you would get so turned on by it."

I throw my head back. "Fuck, Luke! I thought you were serious."

"I'm sorry." He laughs harder. I can't even start to relate to my
embarrassment as my amazement to his laughter overrides everything in my
heart. "I guess I have to do something about that. Care for a blowjob?"

He bites his lips and reaches for my hard cock. I am not too horned up for
that, I want something else. I abandon my beer and made a suggestion. "I
was wondering if I could give you a blowjob. Maybe you can tap into that
dominant side of you again and fuck the hell out of my mouth..." My request
reeks with seduction. To be honest, I'm a little apprehensive about
this. I've never switched with the same guy I dominate before. But this is
Luke, for Christ's sake.

"I don't know if I can keep it up," he says.

"Just for a while, until you blow your load," I plead again. "You can just
do the things I usually do."

He's getting hard in my hand. He likes the idea! Fuck me; I'm the luckiest
guy on earth! "I can try," he says.

"Really?" He nods, I beam.

My hand on his crotch is getting uncontrollable. He's getting harder and
harder. "Did I tell you to do that?" He slaps me, hard. He panics
afterwards. "Oh my God! Was it too hard?"

"No, I love it," I say honestly. The slap was quite rough. My ear is still
buzzing and I'm sure that my pale cheek turns red. I don't know how a guy
as sweet as Luke will pull this off but I remind myself that we have our
'Louisiana' if he wants to stop this.

He returns to his role again. Is he also a natural at this? "Between my
legs," he orders. I kneel while he opens his fly and takes out his semi
hard cock. "Don't waste my time boy, I have better things to do than your
filthy mouth."

I have no choice but to obey, not that I want to do otherwise. His approach
to this is different from mine. I am fiery and angry, he is cold and
mean. I see my subs as punks that are acting so badly that they need some
punishment; he sees his as worthless pieces of shit that should be grateful
for his presence.  Maybe he would be a good Master for one lucky
slave. Fuck it! He ain't getting no other slave, I'm his slave.

He's clenching on my hair tight and forces me to choke on his dick. That
gets my attention.

I know he's not the biggest fan of my blowjob so I have to give it my all
at this. I must please him as much he pleases me. I tried to mimic all the
magical things he did to my cock on him before, he said that it was
'good'. Good is not good enough. This is the most important blowjob that I
will ever give. I have to go beyond my past efforts.

I think I do well. He veers of character once when I suck hard and massage
his cockhead with my tongue.  He moans my name. I decided to take a risk
and lightly grazed the head with my teeth. I want him to remember that he
is my superior; he has to use me and punish me for my wrongdoing.

It did the trick. He violently yanks my head off his cock and gives me a
look that scares the shit out of me. "What do you think you just did?" he
asks, still cold and calm.

"I..." Slap! Slap! Slap! He had my head still under his grip when he gave
me those three hardest, most painful, and best smacks I could ever get in
my life. "I'm sorry, Sir."

"You didn't answer me, boy." Slap!

He's so good at this that it got me nervous. "I... I..." Slap! Slap!

"Too slow," his voice is still cold and controlled.

"I bumped your cockhead, Sir. I'm sorry, Sir."

"You better be." He slaps me again. He spits on my face. He slammed his
dick into my gagging throat. It is so violent and I am in heaven.

It's quite a long blowjob, perhaps more than ten minutes. It feels
especially long counting the fact that he basically fucks my mouth with
abandon. He stops once in a while only to ram my head into his crotch and
roughly grind his hips on my face. I choke several times and he doesn't
give a damn. He keeps on torturing my skull. He's the fucking best.

"OH FUCK!" he shouts. He is so rough with my mouth that I don't even have
the chance to sense the signs of his orgasm. With a final thrust he buries
his dick into my throat and cums. I can't breathe and I cough in his
load. Instead of giving me space, he cups my chin and keeps my mouth
closed. He's determined to suffocate me. "Don't be messy, boy, or else," he
threatens between breaths. At least he gives me the chance to inhale
afterwards, while he is basking in post-orgasm bliss.

I don't know what to do now. Should I stop sucking or should I continue? We
didn't discuss this first; it was a spur of the moment thing. Suddenly I
feel his hands under my pits and he swiftly pulls me up on top of him. His
weightlifting proves to be a fruitful effort.

He's giving me a smile now, the cute one that shows his snaggletooth. He is
done.

"We have to do something about your dick, Marc," he says. God, I forgot
that I had a dick. He is that good!

"Fuck that!" I say. "That was... out of this world! You were fucking
amazing!"

"It was? I wasn't being... too rough?"

"Fuck no! It was perfect."

He smiles again. I have to make love to that mouth!

Five minutes later we stop making out. "We should do that again sometimes,"
I say.

"We do?" he asks with hesitation.

I study his face. The doubt there mirrors his words. "You didn't enjoy it,
did you?"

"I did," he says. "Well, I enjoyed the blowjob, but I didn't enjoy slapping
you and stuff. I feel bad." I understand what he was saying. I crossed my
own limit before and it was not a good feeling. Luke and I should've
discussed this beforehand, after all. Communication is key indeed.

"I'm sorry. I didn't think this through," I say "I promise you I will ever
ask you to do that again and I will always talk about these things before
we do it."

"That's okay, I don't blame you. We were horny." He laughs. "Just do me a
favor. You have to blow me like that from now on. I don't want anything
less."

I laugh with him. Finally I could give him the pleasure he
deserves. Admittedly for him it was tainted by all the rough stuff but
still, now I know how to suck his cock.

With a struggle he rolls me over on the couch and stand up. He pulls his
pants from his knees, zips it and buttons it. Looking down, he sees my dick
is still raging. He smiles. I melt.

"Come on, we have to do something with your cock." Before I knew it, he has
an arm under my pits and another under my knees. He lifts me off the couch
and carries me to the bedroom like I was his bride. I know that he's
strong, but this strong? Well, I do love him because he does make me
powerless.

Two bottles of barely attended beer doesn't feel like such a waste now.



I urged him to come to a party three weeks later. His friends are having a
pre-Christmas get together and graduation celebration. The graduation
itself wouldn't happen until three months from now but his friends wanted
to have a final meet up before they all part ways for the holidays. He
didn't want to come so I had to force him. I've never seen him with his
friends. To be fair, he doesn't consider them as friends, only
classmates. Doesn't matter. I'm just curious to see him interact with his
"classmates."

He's happy and jolly, talking and engaging in the most cheerful way I've
seen him, like he usually is around people. Who wouldn't be happy when you
finally get the degree you've been fighting for? Him introducing me as his
boyfriend shouldn't make me feel giddy, but I do. He glances to me once in
a while throughout the party and I wave at him. His smile is so wide and
his eyes are twinkling. I never thought he doesn't enjoy it at all. While
the others are lost in the fun atmosphere, he drags me out.

"We haven't been there long enough." I say.

"Yeah. I'd rather spend my time with you and no one else." He trails off.

I smile. I swear this dude keeps his romantic side from me so he can attack
me with such surprises.  "We've never hung out with your friends, always
with mine," I say instead.

"They're not my friends, they're my classmates," he insists.

"Come on. There must be one or two of them that you're close with. You were
talking to one of them the whole time."

He shrugs. "Yeah. I used to work with her on a group project together.
Nothing more."

"They're your connection. Who knows one of them will call you up and give
you a job. They can be your friends. Just try and be happy and celebrate."
I say, rather smugly. I knew I'm an extravert and he's an introvert. I also
want him to get out of his shell. Besides, I saw him being so outgoing back
there.

I must admit that I was more than a little preachy.

"Be happy. I wonder if this grief will ever let me go and be happy," he
says under his breath, not even looking at me. I could barely hear it. It's
clear that he's annoyed by me. Well, I'm annoyed by him too.

"Do you have to take a depressing turn every time, Luke?" I snap. He's just
hopeless. "We've done four sessions now and you've made such a huge
progress. You even talked to our therapist about your childhood. That's a
progress! Don't let it go to waste. Just be positive once in a while. You
just graduated, for Christ's sake. I mean it when I say you have to try to
be happy a little. She even said that you have to try to do happier stuff.
This is a happy stuff but you don't even take a part in it." I keep on
lecturing him as we walk. He has to hear this and he has to hear it from
someone who loved him. I need to see him happy. He needs to be happy.
HAPPY! Why is it so hard for him to grasp the concept?

Yeah, yeah, he's depressed, of course I remember it. I was wrong for
lecturing him about happiness, as if it was such an easy thing to acquire.
It is easy for me but I'm not ignorant enough to not understand the
difficulties he's having in reaching for it. That's not the point. The
point is I'm lost. There must be some part of him that desires happiness so
much that it just can't help but break free and break through all his
misery and break everything down and give me a genuine laughter for
once. Why isn't there such a break from him? Why does he stay unhappy? Why
is he unhappy despite my being there? Is he unhappy BECAUSE I am there?


___

Factual error warning: I actually don't know if a couple who are still in
an early stage of relationship is allowed to see a couple's
therapist. Other than that, I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

Email: robxglass@gmail.com
Blog: xglass.tumblr.com
The Virgin Joseph: http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/beginnings/the-virgin-joseph/

Cheers!