Party Time (Ch. 04)

"They're for light pollution; the designers wanted visitors to see the stars."

"They're kinda creepy looking."

Marco chuckled softly. "Yeah, they made them dim on purpose. Makes for some great Halloween hide-n-seek."

Sam shivered at the thought, then kept shivering from the cold night air. She should have brought a sweater. Marco noticed, of course, and in seconds she was wrapped in a pre-warmed bomber jacket. The thing was gigantic on her, and she thought she must look ridiculous, but she was much warmer. She turned to thank Marco and the sight of him without the jacket made her even warmer. He was wearing a long-sleeve gray henley that clung to his shoulders and upper arms like a second skin. The neck of the shirt splayed open at the buttons; his broad, muscular chest stretched the fabric. Marco had mounds of muscle Sam had never noticed on other men--it looked like his arms had a dozen thick muscles where she'd only noticed a couple on others. The thought of touching him, tracing each--. Marco's voice broke through her fantasy.

"Can you walk a little farther? I want to show you something."

Sam nodded. Marco smoothly captured her hand again, placing it in the crook of the arm she'd been admiring. Yeah, he'd noticed her checking him out. He'd put her hand there, so Sam took advantage. She wrapped her fingers around his brawny forearm and gave it a squeeze. Sinewy, unyielding flesh met her grasp, and Sam swallowed, remembering what it had felt like in the movie theater when Marco had held her tight. She might not need the bomber jacket much longer if she kept having these thoughts.

The gravel path wound its way deeper into the gardens, passing under arbors and around trellises. They entered a small clearing with a fountain sculpted in the shape of three dolphins and one with an elaborate bird bath. Marco knew a little about the artists, but Sam was more interested in his stories of fraternity antics: the games and parties, the hazing and rituals. Warm in Marco's jacket and entranced by his deep voice and the proximity of his strong body, Sam forgot about how her night had gone, and she left off wondering where the rest of her night might be heading.

***

Marco watched Sam's face as she gazed up at a statue of Icarus, the prideful son who had flown too close to the sun. In the sculpture Icarus was magnificent, his young body muscled, great wings outstretched. Sam's beautiful blue eyes traced the marble then flitted to Marco's chest and arms. Was she comparing him to the statue? A small smirk came to Marco's lips, and he shifted to give Sam a better view of his physique. The son of the inventor had nothing on Marco. Icarus might be harder--he was sculpted from rock, after all--and they might share a certain arrogance, but Marco had a broader chest and stronger arms and wouldn't let pride ruin his plans.

Marco shifted his gaze to give Sam privacy to make her comparison. He regarded the young flyer. Icarus's expression was exultant. The sculptor had chosen to depict his subject's ascent toward the sun--the period when he was flying higher and higher. Marco wondered whether the sculptor had ever depicted the man's fall. What would Icarus's expression have been then, after the beeswax in his wings had melted?

Marco returned his gaze to the woman next to him. The moon had risen, and Sam's gorgeous blue eyes gleamed in the bright moonlight. The coolness of the light had turned her skin alabaster, and, still as she was, she seemed almost a statue herself. Well, a statue that someone had negligently tossed an olive bomber jacket over. She clutched his jacket about her body like a puffy robe.

His mind conjured the shape of another sculpture, of Sam's beautiful form underneath Kyle, who appeared in this vision a lot like Icarus towering above them. The image brought on a sudden, violent urge. He wanted to blister her backside red with the flat of his hand, punishing her for choosing another man. He wanted to seize her and sink his teeth into the smooth white flesh of her neck, marking her the way the artist had marked his name on the statue's base. He wanted to stuff her full of dick, mold her pussy to his cock, and tattoo his name across her breasts. He wanted to fill her with so much cum she had quintuplets, even though he knew that wasn't how it worked. He wanted to make her climax so hard and so often that she broke from the pleasure and spent the rest of her life begging for his cock.

Unaware of the direction of his thoughts, Sam leaned against him. Marco wrapped an arm about her, pulling her close. His held her tighter than necessary, as if guarding her from Icarus and his splendid form. Marco gritted his teeth, wrestling with his possessive urges. Kyle had been inches from fucking her, and when he'd found them together, Marco had come within inches of heaving his best friend off the roof. He'd never had such an intense reaction, particularly not about a girl he'd discussed with Kyle. Sure, maybe Kyle had broken the spirit of their agreement, but he hadn't broken its details. He hadn't really broken the rules.

Marco had taken Sam on a single date--he had no grounds to feel so possessive. But here he was, struggling with the impulse to pick Sam up and prove to Icarus that he, a man of flesh and blood, was hard enough where it counted.

A chilly gust helped cool Marco's heated thoughts. He strolled slowly, guiding Sam down the path he'd chosen. The breeze made the garden a little colder, but it didn't bother him. The night air nipped at the tips of his ears and nose, but Marco liked the feeling: it reminded him that he was alive. There would be warmth enough ahead.

After passing between two tall hedges, the path took a turn into a wide meadow.

"Here we are," Marco announced. "This is what I wanted to show you."

"Wow," Sam murmured, slipping from beneath his arm to step from the path onto the grass.

They stood at the edge of a wide oval meadow bordered by a hedge on one side and a wild-looking forest on the other. The path had deposited them in the middle, at the widest part of the oval. Sam looked from one end to the other, her head turning nearly 180 degrees. To her right at one end stood a fairly large hexagonal structure. To her left stood a geological marvel.

"What is that?" Sam said.

"No one really knows. They're basalt columns, but no one knows for sure how they got here."

"Weird."

They were weird. The basalt columns were hexagonal pillars of rock, jet black, standing together in clumps to create five large obelisks. The obelisks rose nearly thirty feet and a few were more than ten feet in diameter. Some of the columns had tipped over while others had cracked, but it didn't take long for an observer to note that they formed a pattern. The highest obelisk was positioned at the narrow end of the oval, while the other four marked out the points of another hexagon.

"That's where Sigma Chi inducts its new members," Marco said, nodding toward the hexagonal space. "Some people claim it was a Masonic temple. Others say it's where KKK members once gathered. Then, there are the stories of Satanists holding sacrifices or Illuminati meeting to decide the fate of the world. I don't know. Seems more like a rich man's fantasy to me."

Sam nodded, still taking in the scene.

"Here, let's get out of the wind." Marco put his arm back around Sam, pulling her toward the structure at the other end of the meadow. "We call it the gazebo, though I'm not sure it was built as one."

They'd taken only a few steps in the direction of the building when they heard some strange sounds. At first, it sounded like someone clapping. But then Marco heard a grunt and a moan. Someone had beaten him to the best spot in the garden. He didn't spend long in consideration: after what had happened earlier, he was in no mood to be beaten.

Sam stopped, forcing Marco to halt. He stepped in front of her and smiled. Reaching deftly inside the jacket, he found her free hand.

"Come on," Marco said, pulling gently on her wrist. "It'll be fine."

***

Sam didn't want to walk any closer, but Marco's grip was gentle and firm. The noises grew louder as they approached: a woman's higher-pitched whimpers followed by a man's lower-pitched moans and grunts. Flesh struck flesh, quickly then slower and slower.

Marco pulled her up the few steps to the gazebo. A woman came into view, sitting on a man's lap, moving up and down in a slow rhythm. Sam pulled up short, but Marco pulled her against him, practically lifting her out of her shoes as he kept moving forward.

The interior of the gazebo was dimly lit, presumably by the same bulbs that shone from the garden's lampposts. A wide bench ran along the edges of the hexagonal space, while a single basalt column stood in the center. The pillar's black surface glistened as if wet and seemed to soak up all the light emanating from above. As Marco pulled her along, Sam felt strangely off kilter in this odd building. It took her a moment to figure out why. The concrete floor had been sculpted to slant in the direction of the pillar.

"Like that?" A female voice purred. Sam's attention was drawn to the far wall, where the couple had chosen a spot on the bench.

"God, yes..." a male voice gasped.

The woman was straddling the man, the milky skin of her thighs a sharp contrast to the dark wood of the bench. She bobbed up and down, moving faster. A red dress had been flung onto the bench next to her. Long blonde hair spilled over her back. Marco shifted his angle of approach, and Sam caught sight of the man. He lounged against the half wall, shirtless with his pants at his ankles. His handsome face contorted in pleasure with the woman's movements. As Sam watched, he reached to fondle the woman's breasts, drawing a feminine moan.

Sam tried again to halt their advance, but pulling on Marco's muscular arm was about as effective as a flank strap stopping a charging bull. The man on the bench suddenly moved, hips surging upward.

"Yes! Fuck me," the woman cried.

The man replied with a grunt, thighs gone rigid. The clapping sound seemed obscenely loud in the quiet meadow. Exertion and pleasure registered in gasps and whimpers as the two raced toward climax.

"Shit," the man grunted, hips faltering.

"Are you cumming?"

"I'm gonna--. Fuck."

The woman lurched to one side with an annoyed cry. The man groaned, hunching, then rocked backward, head thunking against the rail. The man's hand shuttled up and down his cock. This newly revealed penis seemed small compared to the two she'd seen earlier. Sam jerked in surprise as a thin stream of white goo geysered from the purplish head while the man jerked and huffed.

"You're getting it on me," the woman complained, wriggling in a half-hearted attempt to get off the man's lap.

To Sam's horror, Marco chose that moment to release her hand and step forward.

"Too bad that didn't work out," Marco said softly. The woman gasped and craned her head. Marco slid his hands smoothly under her armpits and lifted her bodily off her lover.

"What are you--!" the woman's cry was cut short as Marco hefted her upright.

Marco adroitly turned so the woman stood in front of Sam. The two stared dumbly at each other, Sam's shock reflected back to her in the woman's dumbfounded expression. Sam knew this woman: Tina, the annoying bitch who had gone after Harumi when Miranda had attacked her.

"Let me help," Marco said.

Tina opened her mouth to complain, but Marco's thick arm wrapped swiftly about her torso, his hand cupping one of her ample breasts. He murmured something in her ear as his other hand slid around her thigh to cup her sex.

"Marco?" Tina asked.

Marco didn't answer. His fingers began to move. The naked Tina jerked in his arms.

"Cum for me," Marco ordered after a moment, his tone so commanding Sam trembled involuntarily.

Tina's mouth dropped open. Sam wondered if she was about to say something but nothing came out. Instead, her eyes widened and her mouth opened even wider as if to scream. All that came out was a strange hiccuping sound.

Sam tore her gaze from Tina's face to look between her legs. Marco had two thick middle fingers deep in the woman's pussy. His hand glistened with Tina's juices. Marco fucked her with his fingers, and Tina's pussy began to make wet sucking sounds. The rest of her body shuddered, and she squirmed in Marco's grip.

"Oh god," Tina choked out.

Sam watched with some fascination as Tina came hard in Marco's arms. The woman's narrow chest froze as her breath cut off, then heaved a few seconds later as she gasped for air. Her head thrashed about as if she'd been suddenly possessed. Her skin grew flushed. Her pussy gushed. Sam could see fluid dripping from Marco's hand.

Was this what she had looked like earlier? Had Marco seen her? Was he doing this to make some point? Whatever the reason, the scene was erotic, and Sam felt a telltale warmth growing between her legs.

"No," Tina peeped pathetically. Sam gasped as Marco lifted Tina off the ground by breast and crotch, the arm about her torso bulging with strength. He squeezed Tina's captured breast while his other hand flexed and strummed.

"Scream for me," said Marco.

Tina flopped like a fish in a net. Her free breast bounced as she jerked. She emitted a most unladylike croak, fingers digging into Marco's hard forearm. Her useless legs thrashed in the air. Then, she did as Marco had demanded: she began to scream.

"Marco! Yes! Oh god, yes! Oh GOD!!" Tina yowled.

Her throaty exclamations echoed from the gazebo rafters. Her flush became a sweat. Her shudders became great full-body spasms. Her head stopped thrashing and instead rocked back to stare sightlessly at the ceiling. Her screams continued, now focused on a single word.

"Marco! Marco! MARCOOOO!!"

The buxom blonde came completely undone. Tears leaked from her eyes, snot from her nose, sweat from her brow, slick from her pussy. Sam realized then why she'd nearly blacked out in the movie theater. Marco was why. This was a demonstration: whatever she had felt on the roof was nothing compared to what Marco could do to her.

When Tina's screams began to subside, the big man slowly lowered her to the deck. He pulled his hand from between her legs. Her knees gave out.

"I'm...oh god...I'm still..." she whimpered as Marco caught her, gently placing her on the ground.

Tina propped on one outstretched arm, oblivious to the cold concrete floor, still shuddering. Marco rose to standing, nonchalantly wiping his fingers on the black pillar in the middle of the small space.

A soft sound brought Sam's eyes around to look at the man, who had remained sitting on the bench in shock. His eyes were wide, his cock soft and small between his legs. She could see why Tina had chosen him. The man was lean and attractive with spiky unkempt brown hair framing a well-proportioned face. He noticed Sam staring and came back to himself.

"What the fuck!" he said, standing abruptly.

Sam took a half-step backward in surprise. The man took a step toward Marco but the move turned into a lurch as he encountered the fabric confining his ankles.

Marco gave the man a disdainful look. With a casual shove, he sent the guy tripping backward to crash hard onto the bench. Sam winced. That had hurt. The man turned on his side, groaning in pain. Sam looked at Marco, who shrugged, a small smirk playing at the corner of his lips. God, he was sexy.

Sam shook her head in shock at her own thoughts. No! That wasn't sexy. That was unnecessary violence. Well, maybe not all violence, Sam thought, noting the sprawled Tina.

The naked blonde was sobbing now. Sam wasn't sure whether she was crying tears of joy from multiple orgasms or of sadness that Marco was no longer making her climax. Tina took hold of Marco's pant leg and started a pathetic whimpering mantra, "Marco, Marco, Marco..." Yeah, it was probably the latter.

Marco snorted in response. He pulled easily from Tina's grasp and walked to the bench, grabbing the man by the back of his neck and hauling him to his feet.

"Pull up your pants," Marco ordered. The man swayed and shied away before leaning down to do as told.

Marco collected the pair's clothing. He shoved the pile into the man's arms and pushed him toward the exit. Then, Marco turned to Tina. He was gentler with her but still firm, dragging her to standing and ushering her to the gazebo steps.

"Get out of here," Marco told the pair.

Sam thought she should do the same. Marco was different tonight. Angry. Violent. Sam started to remove Marco's jacket in preparation to leave, but he turned to her.

"Hey," he said, his expression softening. "It'll be okay. They're going."

Marco cupped Sam's cheek and ran his thumb softly over her lips. Sam's will to flee began to evaporate, replaced by desire. Marco's green eyes focused on her face, intent, and Sam registered her submission in his eyes before she felt it in her heart. As soon as Marco was sure she'd stay, he turned to the pair standing outside the gazebo.

"Tell anyone you happen to pass," Marco said. "The gazebo's occupied."

Dress about her middle, Tina nodded as if she were a gardener receiving new instructions. The man stood dumb and humiliated, arms folded defensively. Tina finished pulling up her dress and turned to lean on the man. They slowly began to walk down the path. After several steps, Tina stopped and stared back at Marco with adoring eyes, as if he'd just blessed her newborn child instead of interrupting her tryst.

Marco ignored the scene. He picked a spot on the bench and sat down, looking about the meadow like a victorious general surveying newly conquered territory. The moonlight limned his muscled frame.

"Come here."

Sam followed the command without a thought, taking two steps before a failsafe tripped in her mind and she stopped. What was she doing here? Sam glanced back at Tina and her lover; they were nearly to the hedge. She should go, too. Marco was strong and beautiful, but he was acting weird. Cruel almost. This shouldn't be a hard decision. Why was she conflicted?

Marco reached for her, his strong hand caressing its way up her wrist. He gently but firmly reeled her in, pulling her between his legs. Once Sam's knees hit the bench, Marco put his face into the crook of her neck, breathing her in. They remained like that for several seconds, Sam not moving, Marco's lips against her neck.

Then, with no warning, Marco lifted and spun her, pulling Sam down to sit between his legs. Sam gasped, her grip loosening on the jacket. Marco deftly pulled it from her grasp, setting it to one side. The cold struck Sam's skin like a slap, but she was distracted by her hands, which had clamped onto Marco's thighs for balance. The flesh beneath the fabric was every bit as hard as the rest of him; the man had not a bit of softness anywhere. But he was warm. Sam could feel the heat of his body and liked being close. All she needed was a little less manhandling.

"Um...let's talk for a minute," she said.

Marco's hand wrapped lightly about the side of her neck.

"So innocent," he said, voice barely above a whisper, "so open."

Marco tilted her head back against his chest with his fingertips, his breath caressing her ear.

"You were beautiful dancing."

Sam's breath caught. Her head rested against a slab of hot muscle. Her butt pressed against Marco's crotch, and she could feel the growing hardness of his cock. Had he watched her with Kyle? For how long? Was jealousy why he was acting this way? She wanted to talk, to understand more about what was going on, but it was difficult to concentrate with Marco's heat and hardness wrapped about her.

"I could see that you wanted him," Marco said, sliding off the straps of her dress.

Marco's comment conjured three handsome faces. Sam had wanted him, all of the hims. Her mind was fuzzy. The sound of the zipper on her dress clarified things. Fear and adrenaline poured into her.