No Regrets Ch. 08

I know it's been a long time. Ridiculously long. I've had nasty writer's block and extreme indecision about how to get these two to where I want them to be. This chapter is going to be very unsatisfying for you all I think, but I swear to God this story is not finished and part 9 is so close I can nearly taste it.

Thanks to everyone who sent encouraging and mildly threatening feedback, it's what got me going again.

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Mark sat at the lip of the deck built onto the side of his parent's house, his feet dangling over the edge. It was starting to get colder in the evenings and the leaves of some of the trees in the gully below were starting to turn orange. He heard his cell phone chime from inside the house, a text message alert. It would be Marie again. It had been two days since he'd seen her, he'd have to put in some face time soon or she'd think something was wrong. Mark sighed and closed his eyes. Suddenly he smelt the faint scent of freesias, and a warm hand squeezed his shoulder then trailed across his back.

"Hi Mom," Mark said, tilting his head up to look at his mother. She was small and slender, with fair skin and long, thick brown hair. She had a tendency to wear long, flowing skirts and walked with the lightest of steps; Puck had always called her Fairy-Mom when they were kids.

"Hi there," his mother replied, moving to stand next to him. "Are you around for dinner tonight?"

"No, I'm going to the library to tutor."

"You've been doing a lot of extra tutoring lately." Mark shrugged. "Well, don't take on too much. You're supposed to have a bit of fun when you're 18 too, you know," his mother chided gently. Mark shrugged again.

"It's good money."

"You know you can always ask us for money if you're struggling." Mark screwed his face up and sighed.

"It's not that."

"So what is it?"

"Keeps me busy. Idle hands are the devil's playground, they say."

"They do say," she replied, her head tilting to the side. "And what are you keeping your hands from playing?" Mark gazed across the gully, his blank face belying the turmoil afflicting his head. He shrugged.

"Nothing in particular." His mother was quiet for a few minutes. Eventually, she crouched down beside Mark and took his hand.

"Don't play around with her, Mark," she said in a low, firm voice. "It's not right." Mark's eyes darted to her large hazel orbs and he swallowed heavily. She squeezed his hand and dropped it, then stood up and disappeared back into the house. Mark closed his eyes and sighed, before wearily getting to his feet.

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It had been a quiet day at the store, so Deacon and Sam were rearranging the floor displays to kill some time. The two of them has just set a TV down just inside the window case when Deacon's phone chimed in his pocket. He pulled it out to read the message, irritated at the unconscious rise and fall of his hopes when he saw it wasn't from Mark but Sarah. He shoved the phone back in his pocket without reading the message. Sam, who had been eyeing Deacon from the corner of his eye, made a cutting gesture with his hand across his throat.

"Time out, man. I need a breather," he said. He turned toward the back of the store. "Yo, Scott," Sam called out. A lanky blonde teenager popped his head around the corner of the back room door. Sam waved him towards the entrance of the store. "Come out front while we go for a break, hey?" The boy nodded and scuffed over to the register.

Sam looked at Deacon and jerked his head toward the back room. They both left the store through the back door and leant on the alley wall behind the shop. Sam pulled a cigarette out of a beat up pack in his pocket, lit it and took a long drag. Deacon watched him exhale and lean his head against the brick wall.

"You probably wouldn't be so out of breath if you stopped smoking," Deacon chided. Sam screwed his face up and made a talking gesture with his free hand. Deacon rolled his eyes and huffed a laugh. They stood in silence for a time while Sam smoked, until Sam cast a sideways glance at Deacon.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah," Deacon said with a shrug. "Sure."

"Are you in love with him?" Sam asked. Deacon knew exactly who Sam was talking about, and felt his stomach lurch.

"What? No," he replied quickly, looking away and shaking his head. "No, it was just sex." Sam raised one eyebrow at Deacon.

"Just sex, huh? So you've fucked Sarah since she came back?" Sam asked. Deacon lifted his shoulder in a weak shrug, his eyes firmly on his shoes.

"Yeah," he answered. Sam took one last long drag in his cigarette and flicked it into the car park. He took a tin of mints from his other pocket and popped one in his mouth before offering them to Deacon. Deacon glanced up at the tin and shook his head.

"Well," Sam said, pushing himself off the wall. "It might not be love, but I don't think its the sex you're angsting over, man." Deacon huffed a sigh.

"Whatever. Anyway, it's been months, why do you keep bringing this up?"

"Because...well, I sort of think of us as friends," Sam replied, his shoulders stiff and words hesitant. "And I don't like to see my friends unhappy." Sam clapped Deacon on the shoulder. "Besides, you're clearly too stupid to figure this out on your own." Sam grinned and yanked the alley door open, leaving Deacon leaning against the wall with a scowl on his face.

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Sitting at his usual study desk in the campus library, Mark pushed a hand through his unruly hair and scowled at his textbook. He felt like he'd been reading the same page for hours. Maybe he had, if his blank note pad was anything to go by. He checked his watch - 10 minutes until his Tuesday morning tutor appointment turned up. 'Might as well pack up now and get up to the 3rd,' he thought. Tossing his pen down, Mark leant back in his seat, reaching his arms behind him and stretching his back out. He turned his head just as Sarah dropped down at the desk next to him.

"Hey," she said. Mark started with surprise and cleared his throat.

"...Hey." Mark paused. They were friends, of a sort, but he couldn't think of anything to say to her. 'Guess it gets kind of hard to keep a conversation with someone when you've fucked their boyfriend,' he thought, feeling heat rise to his cheeks no sooner than the thought was finished. Mark let out a weak cough. "So...how're your classes going?"

"What's going on with Deacon?" Sarah asked abruptly. Mark's brows shot up; he hadn't expected her to be that blunt.

"What?" He asked back. Sarah shrugged and tucked some loose hair behind her ear.

"He's...not right."

"What do you mean?" Mark asked, surprising himself with how badly he wanted to know what was happening between Sarah and Deacon.

"He called me once during the whole summer vacation. Once in five weeks," she started. "I've been back for two months now, and the whole time he's been avoiding spending time with me. When we are together, he's moody and abrupt, he's constantly checking his phone..."

"Have you talked to him about it?" Mark suggested, somewhat gingerly. Sarah levelled an annoyed look at him.

"He says it's family stuff. And, well, we all know his Dad is an asshole, but I don't think that's it." She hesitated before leaning forward, forcing Mark to meet her eyes. "Has he told you anything?" The confusion and pleading in her voice nearly undid him, but Mark closed his eyes and shook his head.

"No. But even if he had, you shouldn't be asking me to tell you," Mark replied. Sarah threw her hands up and sat back.

"I just don't understand what's going on!" She exclaimed, rather loudly. Mark tried, and failed, to ignore her quiet sniffling. Sarah tentatively placed her hand over Mark's. "What happened over summer?" She asked softly. "Is it...is there another girl?"

Mark sighed, exasperated. "Sarah..."

"Just tell me!" Sarah said, her voice raised. Someone at a desk nearby sent a loud 'shush' in their direction. Sarah glanced briefly in the direction the admonishment had come from before turning back to Mark and leaning in closer to him. "If you know, please just tell me," she pleaded with a lower voice, squeezing his hand.

Mark looked into her eyes and prayed he wouldn't go to Hell for this.

"...No. There's no other girl." Mark could visibly see the relief in Sarah's eyes, and he had never felt like more of an asshole. He pulled his hand away from hers and started packing up his books. "Sarah, whatever it is, he'll talk to you about it when he's ready."

"So you think he's being weird too?" Sarah asked. Mark gave a half shrug and continued to focus on packing books into his bag.

"To be honest, I haven't seen him a lot lately. But yeah, I think...he's been a bit preoccupied."

"With what?"

"I don't know, Sarah. Whatever is going on in his head, he hasn't told me. We'll just have to be patient," Mark said. Sarah nodded and looked away, her hand surreptitiously moving to her face and wiping the corner of her eyes. "I'm sorry," he added. Mark sighed heavily as he hefted his bag onto his shoulder and walked away.

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Maire placed a brown paper bag on the café table in front of Sarah. "Blueberry and bran muffin for my dearest." Sarah looked up at her friend and gave a weak smile.

"Thanks, but I'm not hungry," she said, toying with the corner of the bag. Marie frowned as she sat down opposite her friend.

"Sarry. I'm worried about you. I haven't actually witnessed you eat anything substantial this whole week. What's up?" Sarah was quiet for a few moments, making tiny rips in the brown bag.

"Deacon's been acting so weird since we got back from break."

"Weird how?" Marie asked. Sarah shrugged and was quiet for a few moments.

"Like...he's avoiding spending time with me," she started, continuing to toy with the paper bag. "And when we are together, he's moody and distracted. Checks his phone all the time." Sarah sighed. Her eyes were fixed on the destruction she was slowly wrecking on the paper bag, and so she missed the pained look that flitted across Marie's face. Eventually Sarah pushed the bag away and looked up at Marie. "Do you know what's going on?"

"No," Marie said with a slow shake of her head, her face once again composed. "Mark did say a few weeks ago that he and Deac had a really great vacation, and Mark was bummed it was over."

"And you think maybe Deacon is feeling the same?"

"Well, if that is it, remind him of how lucky he is to have you back," Marie grinned at Sarah. "Just be that fun, sexy, gorgeous girl he fell in love with, and he'll snap out of it."

"You think so?" Sarah asked, a weak hope in her eyes. Marie reached her hand across the table and clutched Sarah's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"How could he not?"

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Mark and Marie were laying on Marie's bed, her head resting on his stomach. The stereo was on low, tuned to some pop radio station. The two of them were trying to throw M&Ms into each others mouths, and the bed was littered with brightly coloured candy from their many failed attempts.

"I'm glad you could come over tonight," Marie said, reaching her hand up to stroke Mark's thigh. "Feels like we haven't seen each other in ages." She turned on the bed and started to straddle Mark. Before she could settle over his waist, Mark sat up and wiggled out from under her leg, walking over to the stereo.

"Yeah. Well. I've had a lot of tutoring on lately," Mark replied, trying and failing to dismiss his guilt. He fiddled with the tuning knob on the stereo, scrolling through the stations. Marie bit the inside of her cheek and held back a sigh.

"I know. I didn't mean anything by it, it's just nice to see you." Marie sat back against the head board and crossed her legs. She crunched down on an M&M. "Sarah is really worked up about Deacon," she said. Mark frowned.

"Yeah, I know. She came and talked to me at school today. Asked if I knew what was going on with him," Mark replied as he walked back over to Marie and sat at the foot of the bed.

"So what is up with him?" Marie asked as she passed him the candy bag.

"How would I know?" Mark snagged a handful of candies from the bag and tossed them into his mouth. "Sarah should just chill out a bit, it's probably nothing."

"Hmm. Sarah might be a bit neurotic at times, but I've never seen her this worked up over nothing before." Marie paused, then continued quietly. "She thinks he's with another girl," she said. Mark grunted. Marie leant forward and looked at Mark. "Is he?"

"No!" Mark exclaimed. "You know it's none of our business anyway." Marie raised her eyebrows at him and huffed.

"My best friend is a wreck over this, I can't just turn away from it." Mark shrugged and nodded.

"I know, I just don't like being caught in the middle," he explained. 'Especially when I am the middle,' he thought. Marie rested her head back on the headboard. They were both silent for a time.

"It's strange though..." Marie started, a pensive look on her face as she gazed at the ceiling. "The way Sarah described Deacon's behaviour..." Marie turned to face Mark. "It was remarkably similar to how you've been acting lately."

"What are you talking about?" Mark asked. A strange sinking feeling was developing in his gut.

"Distant, moody. Avoiding me. Checking your phone all the time," Marie listed, her gaze steady on Mark's.

"I'm not avoiding you. I'm hanging out with you right now," Mark countered weakly. Marie moved onto her knees and scooted up to Mark's side.

"Did something bad happen while we were away? I mean, are you guys in trouble or something?" She asked, her eyes full of concern. Mark shook his head slowly, belying his racing heart.

"No. Nothing happened. No trouble." Marie started to say something else, but Mark cut her off. "I said nothing, okay?" He pushed himself up and off the bed, and started to pull his shoes on.

"Baby, please, whatever is going on, I just want to help," Marie pleaded, reaching out to grasp Mark's arm. He shook her off and stood up.

"You can help by just dropping it. Nothing happened. And I'm sick of hearing you two bitch and moan over nothing." Mark grabbed his bag off the floor and turned away from Marie, furious at himself, at her, at all the questions. He swung the door open wide and left, leaving Marie still kneeling on the bed, confused and thoroughly hurt.

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Leaning on the counter about mid way through his Thursday afternoon shift at work, Deacon had just finished sending off a text to Mark, suggesting a video game marathon on the coming Saturday night, when a pair of warm hands closed over his eyes from behind.

"Guess who?" A female voice asked, low and hot against his ear.

"Sarah?" Deacon gripped one of the wrists in his hand and pulled it away from his face, turning around at the same time. His uncovered eyes were met with the wide grin of his girlfriend, her blue eyes sparkling. "What are you doing here?"

"Thought I'd surprise you," Sarah replied, pushing her body close to his against the counter. She kissed him lightly. "Thought we could put a post-it note on the supply closet," she murmured against his lips, referring to his workplace's version of putting a tie on the doorknob. Deacon grimaced and tried to still her roaming hands as she sucked on his earlobe. From the corner of his eye, he could see Sam eyeing them from the opposite counter.

"I can't..." Deacon said, squirming out of Sarah's grasp and stepping out from the counter. Sarah turned and followed his retreat, her hands latching onto his waist.

"Why not?" She asked, looking up at him through her lashes. She glanced around the store quickly before looking back at Deacon. "It's not busy and Sam will cover for you," she suggested, turning her head and flashing a stunning smile at Sam. "Won't you Sam?" Sam stared at Deacon, who refused to meet his gaze. Sam then turned his gaze to Sarah and forced a smirk.

"Yeah, course," Sam replied. Sarah turned back to Deacon and started walking him backwards towards the open closet.

"See? So come on!" Sarah gave Deacon playful shove, sending him stumbling backwards into the small room. She quickly shut and locked the door behind them, then turned to Deacon with a predatory grin. Before he knew what was happening, Sarah was pressed up against him again, her hands working at his belt buckle. He could feel her smiling against his neck. "Still got that blanket in here somewhere?"

Even with his misgivings about the situation, Deacon laughed despite himself. One memorable afternoon they had spent in here together during high school had resulted in a large splinter from the work bench firmly imbedded in one of Sarah's ass cheeks. The next day, Deacon had furtively hidden away a small blanket away in the closet.

"It's in the bottom drawer, as always" Deacon replied with a grin. Sarah quickly crouched and retrieved a small blanket from the bottom drawer before draping it over the work bench behind Deacon. Her hands moved to his waist again and he snatched one of her wrists. "Hey, I uh, I don't have any..."

"Fear not," Sarah cut him off, one eyebrow raised; she reached into her skirt pocket and produced a condom packet which she then pressed into his hand. Deacon swallowed and forced a grin. Sarah moved to put her hand down his now open pants, but he grabbed her forearm and tugged her forward; he pushed her so she was facing the wall, her hands flat on the work bench, with him behind her. Sarah twisted her head around to look at him and grinned. She spread her legs and used one hand to pull her skirt up above her waist. She wasn't wearing anything underneath.

Deacon pushed his pants and boxers down to his knees with one hand as he roughly tugged on his flaccid cock with the other. He thrust his hand between her legs and pressed two fingers into her already wet opening. Sarah moaned and pushed back on his hand. Deacon closed his eyes and thought of things he knew he shouldn't as he stroked himself, trying to get his dick to harden, while Sarah whimpered and rocked back and forth on his fingers.

He ripped open the foil packet and rolled the condom down over his sufficiently erect cock. Pulling Sarah's hips back toward him with both hands, he lined his cock head up with her opening and pushed forward. Sarah cried out and gripped the bench. Deacon started moving back and forth, moving in and out of Sarah's wet hole as she moaned and rocked back on his cock.

He had to admit - it did feel kind of good. He'd had nothing but his hand and torturous memories for a couple of weeks now, and that just wasn't cutting it. But as Deacon started thrusting faster, he couldn't stop thinking that this still wasn't enough, that it still wasn't what he wanted. He wanted to be the one bent over the bench, his hands spread on the surface as Mark pounded into him from behind. Deacon squeezed his eyes shut and grit his teeth, shaking his head to try and get rid of the thoughts and memories crowding in.

At that moment, Deacon felt his phone vibrate in his pant pocket against his leg - it would be Mark, texting back to confirm their weekend plans. Deacon's stomach lurched and an intense stab of pleasure rushed through him as his mind unwittingly linked the thoughts of Mark to the physical sensations he was experiencing. Deacon let out a strangled groan and started thrusting erratically into Sarah, his hands tightening on her hips as he came.

Breathing heavily, he quickly pulled out and pulled the condom off with shaking hands. Sarah shimmied her skirt back down over her ass as Deacon pulled his underwear and pants up, tied a knot in the top of the condom and stuffed it in his pocket. Sarah turned as he finished tucking his flaccid cock back into his underwear and zipping up his pants. She gave him a lazy smile and pressed a lingering kiss to his mouth.