No Regrets Ch. 06

"Oh fuck," Mark gasped, "so fucking good, baby, you feel so fucking good."

"Don't, don't say that," Deacon groaned into Mark's neck, "just...ughhh...don't..." Deacon trailed off, biting down on the join of Mark's neck and shoulder as his orgasm rocked through him, his cock spurting hot cum between their bodies. Mark rocked forward a few more times before his body tensed, arching into Deacon and cumming deep inside him.

Mark sighed contentedly as he slumped on top of Deacon's prone form, the blonde's legs relaxing and unwrapping from around Mark's waist. Deacon yawned as Mark nuzzled his neck, his hair damp with sweat, curling at the ends. Deacon rested his hands on Mark's hips and tilted his head to the side as Mark kissed the hollow of his throat.

"So is twice the limit?" Mark whispered against Deacon's flushed skin, his teasing question seeming unnervingly heavy. Deacon drew his hands up along Mark's back and cradled his lover's face in his hands.

"I won't tell if you don't," Deacon whispered back before kissing Mark firmly, his mouth parting and snaring Mark's upper lip with a slight suck. Mark sighed into the kiss, his tongue stroking against Deacon's own, slow and gentle. Deacon gradually flipped them over so he was on top, straddling Mark.

"Our secret," Mark said quietly. Deacon nodded, and then they lost themselves again.

*******

Dim streetlight streaked in through the open curtains of Deacon's bedroom, illuminating the bed where Deacon lay on his side, Mark at his back, his softening cock still buried inside Deacon.

"How did this happen, man?" Deacon murmured. "I mean, seriously, I really thought I'd have more of a problem with...all of this stuff." Mark snorted quietly, speaking between the kisses and bites along Deacon's neck.

"Ditto. If someone told me six months ago that I'd be balls deep in my best friend right now, I would've punched their lights out." Deacon smoothed his hand up Mark's thigh and grinned.

"What about now?" Deacon asked.

"Yeah, well, I think my current position answers that question," Mark laughed. "And anyway, you can't hit someone for telling the truth," he added, leaning over and quirking an eyebrow at his lover. Deacon rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"No, I mean...what if someone found out about this?" Deacon asked his serious eyes on Mark's. "What if..." Deacon bit his lip, "what if someone told you they knew?"

"You trying to tell me something here?" Mark asked back, his stomach fluttering suddenly, fear and a giddy sort of excitement tumbling together in his gut. Deacon rolled his eyes again, an exasperated sigh escaping.

"No, dude, come on. Who would I tell? I was just wondering, what would happen if people did know." Mark didn't answer; instead, he gently pulled out of Deacon and flopped down beside him. Eventually he shrugged and looked at Deacon, who had rolled over to face Mark.

"I don't know. I can think of worse things," Mark said. "I'd be more worried about people knowing I cheated than being called a fag, anyway." Deacon nodded and Mark looked curiously at him. "So what would you do, if someone knew?" Deacon shook his head and sighed.

"I don't even want to consider it," Deacon said, a shiver running down his spine as he thought of his father. "Never mind," Deacon said with another shake of his head. "I don't know why I brought it up anyway, doesn't even matter."

"No...don't suppose it does matter," Mark agreed softly. He rolled onto his side and reached out hesistantly, running his fingers down the side of Deacon's face. Deacon gave his friend a puzzled look and Mark blushed and jerked his hand away, suddenly embarrassed by the intimate nature of his gesture. Deacon grasped Mark's retreating hand in his own, staring directly into Mark's troubled face.

"Hey, you okay?" Deacon asked quietly, his stomach churning at the intensity he saw in Mark's brown eyes, confused at the way his heart was reacting to the unreadable gaze.

"This...this thing. What does it, I mean, what was it, to you?"

"What was it? What do you mean?"

"Like if you had to define it in a word, what was it? Us, this past month." Mark held his breath as answers he both wanted to hear and feared most dashed around in his head; amazing, special, new, scary, confusing, something, everything...

Deacon swallowed thickly, not knowing if what he was hearing in Mark's voice and seeing in his eyes was really there, or if Deacon was just imagining it; imagining the unspoken question in Mark's words, a confused sort of hope in those beautiful, deep pools of brown. Hope for something that Deacon wouldn't, couldn't do, couldn't even consider without fear paralysing him. Deacon forced a frown and a wry smile.

"...Sex? Why, what would you have called it?"

"Yeah, sex. Just...just wondered," Mark replied, turning onto his back, his voice quiet and deflated. He hadn't really expected Deacon to confess his epic gay love, wasn't even certain that was what he wanted; but just an acknowledgement of how intense the last month had been would have made Mark feel less alone, a little less confused.

"Wondered what?" Deacon asked, dreading the answer but unable to stop himself from asking. Mark shrugged.

"If we were on the same page. About all of this." There it was, Deacon thought. One last opportunity to own up, to come clean about how he was really feeling about the whole fucked up situation. They could have something, Deacon admitted to himself. They could make this thing into something...more. More than he had ever had with Sarah. He could tell that Mark was trying to say it, ask it, and God help him, Deacon wanted to keep whatever it was that they had found together too.

"Mark..." A panic rose in Deacon's throat, bitter like bile, as too many what ifs and what abouts flooded his mind at once. It was too hard, too much, and Deacon swallowed everything down, all the thoughts and hopes and fears and them, only holding on tight to the safety of their agreement. "Wasn't...wasn't that what our talk was all about?"

"Yeah. I guess it was. Forget it." Mark turned toward Deacon and rested his chin against the blonde's shoulder, planting a lingering kiss on the warm skin before rolling away and sitting up on the edge of the bed. Mark found his underwear and quickly pulled them on before gathering up his discarded clothes from the floor. Deacon sat up on the bed and frowned as Mark made his way to the door.

"What are you doing?"

"Uh..." Mark stopped at the doorway and looked back at his friend. "I...I thought it might be better if I slept in the guestroom."

"What? Why?"

"I didn't think we should...wake up together. Start the day how we mean to finish it."

"Oh," Deacon said quietly, the reality that they had just shared their last fuck ever sinking in. "Right. Okay."

"But, y'know, I can...." Mark wet his lips and shrugged. Deacon shook his head.

"No, no, you're right. Its probably a good idea for you not to sleep here."

"Okay. Okay, good." Mark stood in the doorway awkwardly, knowing he should go but feeling like something was still being left unsaid, something still hanging between them.

"The, um, the bed's all made up, there's extra blankets and towels and stuff in the closet, if you need them."

"Okay. Thanks. So I'll...uh, see you tomorrow."

"Yeah. G'night," Deacon offered lamely, the exchange feeling weak and fake to both of them. Mark lowered his eyes and struggled to breath through the growing lump in his throat.

"...Goodnight," Mark said softly before walking through the door, leaving Deacon alone, still sitting upright in the rumpled bed.

*******

Mark was gone. Deacon realised after a few silent seconds that he wasn't coming back into the room, he wasn't coming back to bed...Mark wasn't coming back to him, not like that, not ever again. 'Not yet,' Deacon thought. 'I'm not ready, I'm not ready for this to be really over.' His mouth had gone dry, his stomach felt queasy and his heart thumped rapidly in his chest. Deacon threw back the covers and grabbed his underwear from the floor, hopping to the door as he hastily put his boxers on; adrenaline coursing through him, he could feel the blood pumping in his ears. Deacon turned through the door and skidded to a stop in front of Mark, who was leaning against the wall in the hallway, head down, his eyes closed but popping open comically upon Deacon's arrival.

"I...I just..." Mark trailed off, hurriedly pushing off the wall, his clothes tumbling from his hands in the process, the blush spreading across his face barely visible in the darkness. Deacon hesitated for a moment, thrown off by Mark's presence outside his bedroom, not really knowing why he had rushed after his friend, or why Mark was still loitering in the hall. His heart still beating double time, Deacon shook off his apprehension and licked his lips.

"It wasn't just sex," Deacon said hoarsely. "It wasn't. It was...it was..." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, his thoughts unknowingly mirroring Mark's: amazing, special, new, scary, confusing, something, everything... "This was an intense month. It meant...something. I didn't want this to be over without you knowing that."

"I..." Mark cleared his throat and nodded. "Yeah. Me too." Deacon licked his lips and stepped closer to Mark, thinking that the whole state could probably hear his heart pounding.

"Can I..." Deacon lightly laid his hands on Mark's hips and moved his head forward until their noses were almost touching, their breath mingling in the space between their lips. Mark drew his head back just a fraction.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Deac," he whispered. Deacon closed his eyed and nodded, breath hitching in his throat.

"Yeah...yeah, you're right, I just..." Mark didn't let Deacon finish before cutting him off with a kiss.

It was just a gentle press of lips, neither man making any attempt to deepen it. Deacon broke contact briefly so they could both take a breath before Mark kissed him again, both of his hands moving to cradle Deacon's face. A strangled whimper rose from Deacon's throat, and planting both palms on Mark's chest, he pushed them apart. Mark dropped his hands and let out a long breath, his jaw clenching.

"Okay..." Deacon murmured. He took another step back, running a hand through his hair as he looked up at Mark. "Okay." Mark nodded and stooped to gather up his clothes.

"Okay," Mark echoed as he straightened up. "See you tomorrow."

"Yeah." Deacon agreed. Mark nodded and rearranged his clothes in his arms. After a beat, they both turned to walk away at the same time.

"Deac?" Deacon stopped in the doorway of his room and looked back down the hallway at Mark, raising his eyebrows in response. "We're...we'll be okay. We will."

Deacon nodded, a slight smile on his face. "Yeah. I know." Then he shut his bedroom and door and left Mark alone in the dark hall. Mark sighed as he thought, 'This is going to suck.'

*******

It was late morning when Mark emerged from the guest room. He was fully dressed and wide awake, as he had been for some time. As much as he was dreading facing up to Deacon and their decision, he was bored almost out of his mind in the spare room. Mark turned the coffee machine on and wandered through the lounge, out onto the patio. It was an overcast day, with warm wind whipping through the trees. Mark plodded out to collect the mail, and saw that Deacon's car was gone from the driveway. Once inside, Mark dropped the mail on the coffee table and grabbed his cell phone. There were two messages: one from Marie, making sure he had their flight information; the other was from Deacon. He had gone into work to catch up on some invoicing. Mark sighed as he dropped his phone back on the table. As much as the avoidance stung, Mark admitted that occupying himself for the day was probably a good plan.

Ten minutes later, Mark had taken over the dining table with textbooks, folders and notes. He had a feeling he was going to get really good grades next semester.

*******

"Hey."

Mark jumped at the voice behind him. He swivelled in his chair and saw Deacon standing inside the patio door. "Hey," Mark replied. He was surprised to see that it was dark outside, he had been absorbed in a dissertation on gender equality. "How'd the, um, invoicing go?"

"Fine. I managed to get everything up to date." Deacon closed the door and walked into the kitchen. He drew a glass of water and downed the whole lot. He turned to Mark with a strained look on his face. "I, uh, I ate at work, so I think I might just turn in."

"Yeah, okay." Mark glanced at the wall clock - it was just shy of 9PM. "I'm just gonna play some Xbox or something," Mark offered. Deacon just nodded.

"Okay."

"Nite," Mark sighed to himself as he heard the door to Deacon's room softly click shut. Packing up his books, Mark turned on the Xbox and dropped back into the sofa, more than ready to numb his mind with some bone-crunching virtual football.

*******

Deacon lay awake in his darkened bedroom, very much awake despite what he had told Mark. He stared up at the ceiling and tried to think of nothing, but his mind invariably drifted back to Mark. Mark's muscled arms, his broad chest, his eager mouth... Deacon squeezed his eyes shut and pushed the gathering images out of his mind. He felt like he'd been fighting with himself all day, his body responding to unwanted thoughts at every turn. Deacon sighed and rolled onto his stomach, burying his face in the pillow. Taking a deep breath, Deacon felt his body betray him again as his cock stiffened in response to Mark's smell on the pillow. Deacon growled and flung himself onto his back again.

"Fuck it," Deacon muttered to himself. 'Jerking off doesn't count,' he thought as he yanked his pants down to his knees and freed his aching dick from his boxers. Deacon moaned as he began pulling on himself roughly, spreading his precum down the shaft of his cock to ease the process. After a few minutes of furious tugging, Deacon twisted his head to the side, buried his face in Mark's pillow and inhaled deeply. With a low growl, Deacon came in his hand. 'You just came thinking of him,' Deacon's mind scolded him a few moments later, 'smelling him. That's not the plan.'

"Shut up," Deacon said to himself as he cleaned his hand off with a tissue. He wriggled under the covers of his bed and waited for sleep to come and silence the endless debate in his head.

*******

The next morning, Deacon woke to the smell of freshly brewed coffee. He made his way to the kitchen and stood in the doorway, watching as Mark slowly chewed on a bagel, staring out the window at nothing. Deacon cleared his throat and Mark started at the sound.

"Morning."

"Hey. Bagel?" Mark nodded towards the bread board, where half a toasted bagel sat.

"Just coffee for me," Deacon replied, moving to the coffee pot and filling a large mug with the aromatic brown liquid. Deacon took a few swallows and stole glances at Mark, who had gone back to gazing out the window. Mark had shadows under his eyes, eyes that were bloodshot and dull. "Sleep well?"

"...Yeah. Fine." Mark glanced at the clock on the wall. "We going in the same car to the airport?"

"Why wouldn't we?"

"For the ride back. I thought maybe we'd all want...private time," Mark finished, scratching the back of his neck. Deacon thought about it, then shrugged.

"Yeah...but we'll all have plenty time for that later, seems stupid to take two cars to the same place for the same reason."

"Okay."

"Where are you guys going when we get back?"

"Her house, I guess. Why?"

"Do you want to take your gear in the car now then? That way I can drop you off, you won't need to come back here." Deacon could've sworn that Mark's body stiffened slightly.

"Yeah. Okay. I'll go get my stuff together." Mark left the kitchen and went into the guest room, closing the door behind him.

Mark sighed at his bag sitting on the guest room bed. His stuff was all packed, all ready to go. Except... Mark frowned. 'Where did I leave it...' he thought, wandering slowly through the lounge and kitchen. He made his way down the hallway and rapped on Deacon's bedroom door lightly. Deacon looked up from where he was sitting on his bed with his laptop and raised his eyebrows at his visitor.

"Have you seen my - "

Deacon cut Mark's question off and pointed to the bathroom. "In the shower."

"Thanks," Mark said as he walked into the bathroom. As he exited and moved toward the hall door, he turned back to Deacon with a puzzled look. "Why was it...?" He gestured to the bathroom. Deacon's tongue darted out to wet his lips, his cheeks colouring slightly.

"Uh, the other day. When we..."

Mark's eyebrows shot up as he remembered their last round of bathing exploits. "Oh. Yeah." Mark cleared his throat. "You ready to go soon?"

"When you are."

"Cool, let's jet then."

*******

After a short but awkwardly quiet journey, Mark and Deacon arrived at the airport and Deacon parked as close to the terminal as he could; the girls' suitcases weighed a tonne when they left, he could only imagine how much heavier they were coming back, and he and Mark would be the ones carrying them. Mark then disappeared into the airport, promising to meet Deacon at the arrivals gate in a few minutes. Waiting beside the arrivals sign, Deacon snorted as he caught sight of Mark approaching; there was a bouquet of flowers clenched in each hand.

"Flowers? Really?"

Mark gave a sheepish smile and flicked his hair out of his face, holding out the flowers in his left hand to Deacon. "Got some for you too." Deacon threw Mark a strange look. Mark's cheeks coloured slightly and he cleared his throat. "To, uh, to give to Sarah, I mean. So I don't make you look bad."

Deacon laughed and took one bunch of the flowers. "You cheesy fucker."

"Yeah, well. Guilt requires penance."

Deacon's stomach churned a little at the quiet despondency in Mark's voice, his eyes downcast and shoulders heavy. "Mark..." He was cut off as Mark straightened up and pointed at the arrivals gate.

"There she is." Before Deacon could say anything else, Mark was already moving towards the edge of the gate, waving a hand above his head to catch Marie's attention.

A slender girl with thick dark hair and large hazel eyes returned the wave and quickened her steps. Mark walked forward to meet her, smiling in earnest as the girl stepped into his arms, which he wrapped around her smaller frame.

"Hi baby," Marie said into Mark's chest.

"Hey you," Mark replied, cradling the back of her head with one hand. Marie pulled back from the embrace and looked up at Mark's face.

"Missed you."

Mark grinned and kissed the top of her head. "Of course you did," Mark joked, unable to truthfully return the sentiment. Marie laughed gently and stretched up to kiss Mark.

Deacon swallowed around the lump in his throat as he watched them together. He forced a smile of his own as he spotted Sarah exiting the gate, and walked towards his own beautiful girlfriend with a handful of flowers.

"Welcome back, beautiful," Deacon said to the blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl standing before him, a tired smile on her face. "Your chariot awaits, m'lady," he said with an exaggerated bow.

Sarah rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. "Hi, dork," she said, leaning in to plant a lingering kiss on Deacon's lips and take the flowers from his hand. Deacon smiled as she drew back and took her suitcase. "If you can break the love birds up, I'd really like some fresh air," she said, nodding her towards Mark and Marie, who were standing a few feet away, hugging and trading quick kisses.

As Marie nuzzled into his neck, Mark looked up over her head and caught Deacon's eyes. His throat becoming suddenly dry and choked as he met Mark's intense gaze, Deacon looked away and swallowed several times before looking back at his friend.