No Regrets Ch. 02bynem0©
Mark blinked owlishly at the sun streaming in through the patio door, letting his eyes adjust to the early morning light before opening his eyes fully. Feeling the warm weight laying on his shoulder shift slightly, Mark tilted his head to look down at his friend's peaceful face. Mark gently slid down on the sofa so his face was level with Deacon's and gazed silently at his lover's sleeping profile. Reaching up with his hand, Mark lightly traced his fingers across Deacon's sharp features - perfect, high cheeks, pouty lips and an almost sculpted nose.
There was a small scar at the top of Deacon's forehead, near his hairline. As he tenderly touched the tiny flaw, Mark frowned, remembering where the scar had come from. It had been Sarah and Deacon's three month anniversary, and when Deacon had opened a bottle of champagne, the cork had flown into the wall and right back at Deacon's head, creating a three inch gash and knocking him unconscious.
Sarah and Deacon had spent their anniversary in the hospital emergency room, drinking Pepsi instead of champagne and eating Oreos rather than camembert cheese. Mark recalled Sarah saying it had turned out better than the night they had planned would have - it had shown her how much she loved Deacon, groggy, stitched up and ungraceful as he might have been.
Suddenly, the telephone's shrill ring broke the morning silence. Still frowning, Mark quickly unwrapped Deacon's arms from his torso and swung his legs around to the ground. Finding and putting on his boxer shorts and t-shirt, Mark grabbed the phone and shut himself in the guest bedroom.
"Hello?" Mark asked quietly, hoping the phone hadn't woken Deacon up. A cheerful squeal greeted his question.
"Mark!" Sarah's voice crackled through the line, "how are you? Is Deacon there? Can I talk..." Mark listened as Sarah spoke to someone in the background. "...I know we have to go, but I just...well we should at least...it's Mark..." Mark gazed out the window as Sarah talked to the other person. Suddenly a very familiar voice came on the line.
"Mark? Babe? Is that you?" An excited voice asked, and Mark felt the blood drain from his face. "Mark? Are you there?" Swallowing heavily, Mark opened his mouth and spoke to his girlfriend. They were having a great time, Marie said, but they could only talk real quick - she told him she loved him and made him promise he'd tell Deacon that Sarah loved him too. They said their goodbyes, and Mark hung up. Leaning against the door, Mark closed his eyes and frowned.
Eventually Mark walked out into the kitchen and put the phone on the counter. He opened the patio door and wandered out onto the pool deck, deep in thought. Most guys talked all the time about how cheating on your girlfriend in certain circumstances wasn't technically cheating, but Mark wasn't most guys, and Marie certainly wasn't most girls. Sarah and Marie had jokingly told Mark and Deacon not to even look at other girls while they were away, and now he could honestly say they wouldn't. 'But this is still cheating,' Mark thought. 'We're cheating on them.' Mark sighed deeply. 'And ourselves. How cliché.'
Mark was so deep in thought that he hadn't heard Deacon get up and open the patio door, yawning loudly. He hadn't heard Deacon call his name twice, and didn't register anything outside of his own thoughts until two powerful hands shoved him face first into the swimming pool. Gasping, Mark swam to the surface and glared at his grinning best friend, standing in his jockeys beside the pool. Before Mark could do anything in retaliation, Deacon did a running cannon ball into the pool, creating a huge splash and re-drenching Mark.
As Deacon surfaced, Mark grabbed his friend's neck in a head-lock and forced him underwater. Deacon reached up and seized both of Mark's ears, and dragged him down with him. The pair play-wrestled for some time before they ended up on the steps leading into the shallow end of the pool, gasping for breath and laughing. When he had recovered, Deacon turned to Mark with a quizzical look on his face.
"What were doing out here, all silent and pensive?" Deacon looked at his watch. "It's no where near noon yet, and I would've thought that after last night you'd be exhausted," he teased with a nervous grin. Mark rolled his eyes and snorted. Staring at the sky, the boys sat in silence for a while before Deacon sat up and turned to face his friend fully. "Seriously, what's up? Is it...about what happened?" Deacon frowned in earnest, trying to read his friend's face. "Because I still don't feel weird about it, and if you were worried about some strange morning-after thing, I wasn't gonna act psycho or angry or anything, I don't..."
"No...nah," Mark began, plucking at his soggy t-shirt. "I wasn't worried about that, it doesn't feel weird to me either. I just...I was thinking about Marie and Sarah. They called a little while ago. Sarah said to tell you she loves you." Deacon fell silent and looked down at his feet and listened carefully as Mark continued. "This doesn't feel wrong, or awkward, at all - it feels way too right, actually. But we have other people to think about. What we're doing, it's still..."
"Cheating," Deacon finished quietly, looking up at Mark intensely. "I've thought about that too. But this...us...I wanted it so much last night that if I didn't act on what I felt, I'd be cheating myself." Deacon sighed softly and lay back down on the steps. "And I still want this... I think you do too." Deacon didn't seem to be addressing anybody, but Mark answered anyway.
"Yea, I do," Mark said decisively, "Now that I've had ...this...I don't want to give it up just because of what my mind says I should do. You were right, I'm sick of thinking before I act." Mark slapped at the water, glaring. "I don't want to hurt Marie, but I guess I want to have my cake and eat it too. I know I shouldn't throw away what I have with Marie in case this turns out to be..." Mark struggled to find an appropriate word, "...a phase. But I don't want to ignore what I feel for you just because we're not supposed to." Deacon rubbed his forehead and nodded slowly.
"If this whole fucked up situation was reversed," Deacon replied slowly, "and Sarah wanted to 'try' someone else behind my back just to see if it would work, I don't think I'd be very receptive." Mark bit his lower lip silently, preparing for rejection. "But no matter what we do here, someone is gonna end up getting hurt." Deacon paused in thought, squinting at the bright light bouncing off the water. Turning to look straight at Mark, Deacon continued. "Sarah and Marie are going to be gone for five weeks whether or not we carry on with this. I don't want to hurt them, but I don't want to resent them either. Everyone's fucked either way, so I reckon we might as well follow our..." Deacon smirked, his eyebrow raised, "...hearts and see where they take us." With that assertion, Deacon leant over to Mark and kissed him roughly. Mark responded eagerly, pulling Deacon nearer to him as they sank back into the shallow end of the pool.
Smoothing his hands under Mark's soaked t-shirt and lifting it up over Mark's head, Deacon flicked his tongue across his friend's lips, silently urging Mark to open his mouth. Using one hand to prop himself up with and the other to pull Deacon's face closer to his own, Mark returned the gesture and leant further into the passionate kiss. When Deacon suddenly reached down and began rubbing Mark's semi-hard crotch through his wet boxers, Mark's arm buckled beneath him. Not expecting the sudden and confident stimulation, Mark's upper body collapsed on top of his arm, and the back of his head hit the pool stairs with a wet thud.
"Shit!" Deacon reached over and gently inspected Mark's head. "Are you all right?" Deacon asked, frowning in concentration. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to freak you out." Mark sat up and gingerly patted the back of his head. When he drew his hand back, it was covered in watery blood. Mark paled, the sight of his own blood bringing back long buried memories from the long hours he had spent in hospital.
"Yeah, I'm fine," Mark shakily replied as he carefully pressed his hand to the wound. "And you didn't freak me out, I just...I wasn't expecting you to...it took me off guard." Deacon helped Mark up off the stairs and they walked into the house, dripping all over the floor. Deacon searched for something lying nearby to stem the flow of blood with, and gave Mark his work shirt to press on the cut. When it had stopped bleeding, Deacon moved to stand behind Mark to examine the gash. As Deacon moved, Mark self-consciously stepped away from Deacon, trying to cover up the scars from the accident. Deacon clenched his jaw and shook his head.
"Sorry, I forgot about..." Deacon started, trailing off as Mark's eyes darkened. Shaking his head, Mark smiled weakly and patted his wound gingerly.
"It's not very big, I think the water just made it seem like there was more blood," Mark said.
"I'm such a screw-up! You'd think surfing would make me a little more coordinated," Deacon sighed in exasperation. Mark smiled and gently touched the scar on Deacon's forehead that he had caressed earlier that morning.
"I guess the spontaneous passion thing doesn't go very well for you, huh?" Remembering what the scar was from, Deacon huffed a small laugh. "Anyway, it wasn't your fault. I was the dumbass who slipped and hit my head, not you!" Inside the cool house, Mark tried to hide an involuntary shiver - they were both still in their soaked underwear - but Deacon saw it and smacked his forehead with his palm.
"Right, right," Deacon muttered as he got two towels from the hall closet. "Being half naked and wet equals being cold, nice going Deac."
Although Mark had been swimming with people since the accident, it was always with a rash shirt on, even if he wasn't using a board. He had also had sex with Marie, but he still wouldn't show anyone his back, not even his parents. Even when he was with Deacon the previous night, he had made sure Deacon was lying low enough on the sofa so that he couldn't see Mark's back. Deacon had never pushed him about it - Mark was obviously still uncomfortable about the scars, and Deacon only wanted to support him; he didn't want to make him any more unhappy than he had been since December.
Handing a towel to Mark, Deacon wrapped his own towel around his waist and expertly removed his jockeys from underneath, throwing them out the door where they landed on the patio with a wet smack. Mark awkwardly tried to do the same, and Deacon laughed as he watched Mark struggle to keep the towel up while he stripped.
"You know, we saw each other totally butt-naked last night, up close and personal," Mark blushed unintentionally, "but now we won't do something as simple as this, something we do at the beach every summer!" Mark looked out the patio door and smiled at the irony.
"I guess it is pretty stupid," Mark began, but stopped and looked down as Deacon fearlessly knelt down in front of Mark and ripped the towel from his friend's waist.
Mark stood motionless, watching amazed as his best friend slowly pulled Mark's boxer shorts down his legs, exposing his thick, semi-hard cock. Deacon looked up at Mark when the soaked boxers sat at his feet, and tugged at them, wanting Mark to step out of the underwear. Mark complied, remaining silent as Deacon got to his feet and led Mark over to the sofa. Sitting Mark down on the sofa, Deacon stood between his friend's legs and dropped his own towel to the floor, revealing his long and hard dick, dripping with pre-cum. Mark reached out and stroked Deacon's naked thigh, leaning forward hungrily to have his second taste of cock. But as he reached out with his other hand to take hold of Deacon's penis, his lover pushed him back onto the sofa cushions.
"Uh-uh," Deacon murmured huskily. "Don't move." Deacon moved forward, putting a thigh on either side of Mark's legs, straddling him on the couch. Using his fingers to trail paths through the water still on Mark's body, Deacon scooted forward so his dick was resting against Mark's own hard member. Deacon reached down and wrapped his left hand around both cocks and began to slowly jerk them off together, watching rapt as Mark tilted his head back to rest on the sofa and groaned in pleasure.
Still jerking both the dicks, Deacon leant into Mark and lightly kissed the hollow of his friend's throat. Using only his tongue, Deacon made his way up Mark's jaw line to his earlobe. As he licked at Mark's lobe and neck, Deacon picked up the pace with his left hand, and his dick twitched as he felt Mark move his hand slowly up and down Deacon's wet back in long, deliberate lines. Pulling away from Mark's neck, Deacon moved into Mark's lips for a deep, fiery kiss.
Deacon abruptly ended the kiss, immediately moving his efforts to Mark's hard nipples. Mark inhaled a breath sharply as he felt Deacon's warm, wet tongue engulf his sensitive nipple, and gasped even louder as Deacon suddenly flicked his fingers over Mark's swollen balls. Moving into a more practical position kneeling between Mark's legs, Deacon began licking up and down his lover's dick, using his hands to roam all over Mark's damp body, encouraged by the hisses and moans he was eliciting from his friend.
Deacon slowly placed his mouth over the head of Mark's cock, licking and sucking it gently. Opening his mouth wider to take in as much of Mark's penis as he could, Deacon suppressed a gag as the head hit the back of his throat. Placing his lips firmly at the base of Mark's dick, Deacon swirled his tongue around Deacon's lengthy penis, fondling his lover's balls with his right hand and stroking Mark's stomach with the other.
Deacon slowly drew his mouth up the shaft, creating a tense suction, and as he released Mark's dick and started to dart his tongue in and around the slit on the cock, Mark let out a deep groan, lost in a seemingly endless world of pleasure. Deacon put the cock back in his mouth, grinning around it at Mark's efforts to suppress his low, gasping moans. Sucking up and down the shaft quickly, Deacon stroked the sensitive spot between Mark's balls and anus with his finger.
Deacon felt a change in Mark's breathing, and quickly removed his mouth from Mark's convulsing shaft, replacing it with his hand. Mark sat with his head back, eyes squeezed shut, moaning through his teeth as he came in deep, shuddering waves. Feeling Mark's cum hit his chest in long wet streaks, Deacon also erupted, orgasming without anything touching his dick for the first time in his life. When their climaxes subsided, Deacon unsteadily pulled himself up onto Mark's lap again, weak at the knees and covered in cum.
Mark lifted his head and bought Deacon's panting mouth to his for a deep, exhausted kiss, feeling some of the warm, sticky cum on Deacon's chest plaster his own. Both too drained to kiss for long, Deacon slumped in Mark's arms, his head resting on Mark's broad shoulder. Mark let his head fall back against the back on the sofa, and they sat in each others arms in silence for a few minutes, the cum between them slowly trickling down their stomachs and drying in flakes. When he got his breath back, Deacon opened his eyes and smiled.
"That's never happened to me before," Deacon whispered, his head still resting on Mark's shoulder. He started to softly draw circles on Mark's lower back with his fingers, careful to stay away from the scars, in case Mark clammed up. "I didn't even know it was possible." Mark lifted his head and frowned.
"What's never happened?" he asked softly. Deacon shifted his head slightly, burying his face in Mark's neck and nuzzling his throat. Mark shivered and put his arms around Deacon's back, pulling his lover towards him tightly.
"I've never cum without..." Deacon started, blushing in spite of himself, "well...without doing anything with...it, y'know?" Mark chuckled softly and kissed the top of Deacon's head, closing his eyes as he inhaled the smell of Deacon's wet hair.
"I don't know about you, but in the last two days I've experienced a lot of things that have never happened to me before," Mark murmured, sitting up slightly. Deacon snorted softly and hugged Mark closer.
"Smartass," he whispered into Mark's ear. "That's not what I meant."
"I know," Mark replied quietly, grinning. They sat in silence for a few moments, Deacon yawning and fighting to stay awake, while Mark's mind wandered, thinking about when Deacon had tried to inspect his injured head earlier.
Mark didn't know why he always concealed his back - he had plenty of scars in places that he couldn't hide if he tried, like his face. Mark's hand drifted to the side of his face, where a jagged white scar marred his jaw. Mark had never tried to hide the diminutive scars on his face, he didn't feel the need.
His back was a different story, though - that was where the worst of the injuries had been, and the scars said as much. Not even his parents had seen the extent of those injuries - when their family doctor had been able to say for certain that Mark would live, the doctor had tried to shield Mark's parents from how close their son had actually come to death, and Mark had since carried on the tradition. The doctor had assured Mark that the scars would fade eventually, maybe needing some occasional reconstructive surgery that his parents were more than willing to pay for, even if they didn't know exactly what they were paying to fix.
Mark sighed indecisively. Deacon had never prodded very far into the subject, but Mark knew he was curious. He knew it hurt Deacon that Mark wouldn't even confide in his best friend, and it had hurt Marie as well - Mark himself was used to the scars, knew every line and contour. It's not that there were a lot of scars - there were actually fewer on his back than there was on his forearms and legs - and they weren't particularly rough-textured either, but he was afraid of how the people closest to him would react to the severity, the size, the shocking look of them. Horror? Disgust?
He knew these were probably irrational theories, but there was always a nagging 'what if?' at the back of his mind that would never go away. What if they started treating him differently, looking at him with pity in their eyes and worrying about him all the time?
Mark forced himself out of his useless, dead-end thoughts, and looked down at the young man dozing on his shoulder. Mark smiled and moved his hands from Deacon's back to his rounded ass, gripping them with strong hands. Mark started to stand up with Deacon still in his arms, and pulled his sleepy friend closer as Deacon tried to pull free.
"Sit still," Mark growled, "you're not that heavy."
"What're you doing?" Deacon asked groggily, his voice muffled by Mark's skin. Still half-asleep, Deacon was mesmerized by the feel of Mark's well-muscled arms straining around him, rubbing against his flesh and creating a feeling that was both hot and cold at the same time.
"I think we need to get cleaned up," Mark said with a grunt, hefting Deacon higher up on his torso as he stood up fully. Mark sensed Deacon nodding into his neck and felt Deacon's smooth legs wrap around his waist, his heels resting perfectly into the clefts of Mark's behind. Mark slowly walked to the shower, savoring the weight he held in his arms, wishing it would never have to end. For a few seconds, there was nothing else in the world but the feeling of Deacon wrapped around him; Deacon's smooth skin brushing against his own; the warm breath against Mark's neck; the hard but supple flesh under his fingertips.
All too soon the journey was over, and Mark leant into the large shower in Deacon's bathroom to switch the hot water on. Mark continued to hold Deacon firmly to his chest as he went and got towels from the hall closet, and only released him when he stepped into the shower. Having almost fallen asleep in Mark's arms, listening to the steady beat of his friend's heart, Deacon gasped as the warm water hit his skin. He unwrapped his legs from Mark's back and stood lethargically, running his hands down Mark's wet, muscular arms. Taking Mark's hand in his own, Deacon looked up as Mark brushed the hair out of Deacon's face.