The Corruption of Colt Jackson Ch. 11

Chapter Eleven

Colt sleeps in past noon the next day. By the time he gets up he decides it's too late to look for a new job. He spends the afternoon painting a second coat on the living/dining room area, at least for a little while before he starts to feel like crap again. He goes to lay down and replays the night before in his mind over and over again until he drifts off again. He only wakes up when he feels the mattress shift next to him.

Marc is here, settling in beside him and gently touching his face. "Were you lazy all day, Vanilla?"

"I painted a bit. But I think I had hangover take two." Colt jokes, leaning slightly into the places where Marc touches him.

"Feeling better?"

"Yeah, just tired. I bet I'm a new man tomorrow." Colt brushes his fingers against Marc's palm and laces their fingers together. Marc still has some grease smudges on his palms and under his nails. "How was work?"

"It was work." Marc answers with a shrug. "The part came in for your bike. I'll have it purring like a kitten by the end of the week."

"Are you sure I can't pay for it?"

"I'm sure. I also paid the bills today. You don't have to worry about it."

That surprises Colt. The twist in his stomach has nothing to do with being hungover. "Marc..."

"Shhh... I said don't worry about it. All you gotta do is exist here with me. Just stay with me and be mine."

Marc settles down onto the bed next to him and Colt feels Marc's lips nuzzle at his neck. Marc takes a deep breath of him and Colt realizes that he didn't shower today. He hopes he doesn't stink too terribly bad.

His mind is racing with thoughts of getting a job and paying his own bills again when it's derailed by what Marc says next.

"I love you, Vanilla."

The whispered words make Colt feel warm from the inside out. He's trying to work up the courage to say the words back to Marc when Marc's phone makes some sound. When Marc gets his phone from his back pocket he notices that there's a picture of himself on the home screen.

Colt waits for Marc to answer the text message before saying anything. "You took a picture of me sleeping?"

"Yeah. Awhile back. I take a lot of stealth pictures of you."

Marc flicks his fingers over his phone to open to the camera app, then he holds his phone up above them. Colt turns his head in toward Marc a bit and Marc is just starting to grin when he snaps the photo of the two of them together. "Now I have one of you awake."

The entire moment makes Colt smile. "One of us together. Send it to me."

"Alright."

Another text received and answered on Marc's phone and then he tosses it aside and turns in toward Colt to hold onto him. Colt's fingers glide lightly over one of Marc's biceps.

"You smell like garage mechanic." Colt teases him.

"You complaining, Vanilla?"

"Nah. I like it."

Marc presses a kiss to Colt's brow. "You smell like you've been in bed all day."

"Are you complaining, Marc?"

"No. I like it."

Colt smiles again, slowly drifting off with Marc.

**

When he wakes the next morning Marc is already gone. Colt slept late again but at least this time it wasn't past noon. He wakes and showers and brushes his teeth, feeling like a new man. He dresses in jeans and a tee.

In the living room he finds a tall stack of money on the table, crisp bills and as Colt thumbs through it, he realizes it's an obscene amount of money, as in the kind of money he's never seen before in one lump sum. There's a note on the table, scrawled in Marc's messy writing.

Vanilla-

Money for groceries, beer, liquor, and I want you to pick out a new couch for the living room. Anything extra, spend on yourself. Gonna be absent for a few days for work. Maybe you'll have the walls finished by the time I get back?

-Marc

Colt reads the note three times before he goes to check the fridge and cabinets. Yes, they do need groceries and beer. There are still a few liquor bottles on the cabinet, but not as many as Marc likes to have around. The request is reasonable.

His couch, the second item he ever bought for this house and it was used when he bought it, is old leather and frayed at the seams so he can see why Marc might want a new one. He didn't ask Colt to buy a new one though. He told him to buy a new one.

It takes him a minute to push himself beyond that frustration. Every time he thinks he and Marc are doing better, Marc does something controlling or unexpected that unsettles him like a scratch on a record. It also worries him that he's getting past those instances more often and more easily than he initially had.

Maybe Marc has pushed him faster than Colt was comfortable with, but Marc also hasn't pushed him so hard that Colt has wanted whatever he has with Marc to stop completely. Sometimes he wonders if this is how it started with his mom and dad. A person makes small concessions and finds excuses for the tiniest things until they're in too deep and accepting things they never should have started accepting in the first place.

When Colt thinks too much about it, he gets confused. He gets scared.

Marc has never hit him, he reminds himself. He's gotten rough a few times. He's demanding as all hell. He doesn't take no for an answer.

Then there are moments where Marc is so sweet to him. As a child Colt used to be starved for any kindness from anyone who would offer it. He likes to think he's grown out of that, but when Marc touches him just so, kisses him so sweetly and tells him he loves him in the most reverent of ways, anything that could confuse him about their relationship disappears.

He thinks about lying in bed with him last night, about how sweet he was, about the photo that's now saved to his phone and the whispered 'I love you, Vanilla' that had made his heart swell.

Colt is not his mother and Colt is definitely not his father. He's his own person. He's with Marc. No labels.

Colt slips the note in his back pocket and puts a few of the crisp bills in his wallet. Then he sets to making a grocery list. He'll do everything Marc wants him to do while he's gone. He'll even pick out a damn couch.

**

Three days later and Colt has finished painting all of the main room and the kitchen. The entire space is almost the same room, the dining and kitchen separated by some of the kitchen counter and cabinets. He's restocked the fridge and pantry. He's been by the liquor store and bought beer that Marc likes and whiskey.

In the living room, delivered just this morning, is a new sectional couch. It's black leather and looks great with the gray paint on the walls. The movers took away his old couch and Colt was kind of sad to see it go. It was time for something new, he supposes.

Colt spent the morning playing his violin and fiddle. Now he's lazed about on the new couch in his cutoff sweats and a tank top reading a book.

His phone rings with Marc's ringtone and Colt answers it. "Hey you."

"Hey. Just wanted to hear your voice."

Marc's voice sounds dark and tense. Colt closes his book and sets it on the coffee table. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Long day." Marc answers. "What are you doing?"

He knows that Marc won't give him details if he's on a job for his uncle so Colt doesn't press him for answers. "Reading."

"Boring."

Colt smirks. "It's not boring. I was fighting Orcs in my mind."

"Boring."

"Alright, if you say so."

"What are you wearing?"

The question and the way Marc asks it makes Colt's stomach flip-flop. "I'm wearin' what I'm always wearin' when I'm bein' a bum around the house, my cut off sweats and a tank top. What are you wearin'?"

"Jeans and a t-shirt. I want you to describe what you're doing."

"Hrm..." Colt thinks about it for a minute. "I'm laying on our new couch. The windows are open cause it's raining outside and I love that smell. Emmitt's laying on his bed. I'm... not all that exciting, Marc."

"I want you to put me on speaker."

Colt arches a brow and then puts his cellphone on speaker. "Alright. You're on speaker."

"Now lift the hem of your tank top and touch your abs."

Colt smirks. "I don't have abs."

"You do. You can barely see them, but they're there. I like your stomach, Vanilla. Do what I said."

Colt lays still for a moment before he does as instructed, lifting his tank and then running his fingertips over his stomach. "Alright."

"How's that feel?"

"I'd rather you were touchin' me."

"Put your hand in your pants and touch yourself."

Colt's hand stills on his stomach. "Marc... what...?"

"Do it, Vanilla. Touch yourself."

Colt sighs and slides his fingers beneath the elastic waist of his sweat shorts and lower. He starts rubbing at his cock, only partly surprised to find himself already hard. Marc has that power over him, even from a distance.

"How's that feel, Colt?"

"I'd rather yo-"

"Answer my question."

Colt draws a deep breath. "It feels good."

"Spread your legs a bit more."

Colt drops one bare foot down to the floor, bending the knee of the other leg and resting it against the back of the couch.

"Now jerk yourself off, baby. Think about me."

"I can't think about anything else right now."

"Good."

"You're everywhere, Marc... even when you aren't here, you're everywhere."

"Good. That's how it should be."

Colt tugs and fondles his own cock, getting lost in how good it feels, loving the idea that Marc is imagining him doing this. A heavy exhale from Marc's end makes Colt realize something.

"Are you jerking off too?"

"Mmhm." Marc answers.

"Are you thinking about me? Are you imagining me jerking off?"

"Yeah, Vanilla. I can see it."

Colt grins and lifts his hips, pushing his sweats down just enough to free himself so he can really give himself a good hand job. They don't have to say anything for awhile, each of them listening to the other breathing and making the sounds that come with arousal.

When Colt is close, he says. "I'm gonna cum now, okay?"

"Lift your shirt more so it doesn't get on there."

"Always lookin' out for me."

"Always."

Colt lifts his shirt a bit more and spills onto his own abdomen. He lies there, catching his breath and listening to what he thinks is Marc doing the same.

They're quiet again, no words necessary for awhile... until Marc speaks again.

"Now wipe it up and lick your cum from your fingers."

Colt wants to say no, at least initially, but as he thinks about it it doesn't seem so bad. Marc has had him taste his own cum before.

As if Marc can sense his hesitation, he pushes. "Do it, Vanilla. Lick your cum off of your fingers."

Looking down at his own spill on his abdomen, Colt dips his fingers in some of it. He brings his fingers to his mouth and suckles his cum off.

"You using your tongue?"

"Oh. No..."

"Lick it. Don't suck."

Again, Colt swipes some of his cum up onto his fingers and then licks it off. "Okay I licked it."

"All of it."

It takes a bit, but Colt gets all of it swiped up and licked off of his fingertips. He lays back onto the couch and closes his eyes.

"I miss you, Vanilla."

"I miss you too." Colt says. "I did everything on your note."

"No you didn't."

"Yeah, I did. I-"

"You didn't buy anything for yourself."

Oh. Well, Marc has a point there. "I don't need anything. I did everything else."

"I left that money for you. Buy yourself something nice, Vanilla. Buy yourself a better violin or something."

"Good violins are super expensive."

"There's more than enough. Go shopping, Colt."

Colt just can't see himself spending that much of Marc's money on himself. He opts to change the subject. "When will you be back? I think I'm used to you bein' in my bed. I haven't been sleepin' well."

"Our bed." Marc counters. "And I think I'll be just a few more days. I like that you want me there with you."

"You're still everywhere, even when you're not here... but it's not the same."

"It's not the same." Colt can hear Marc draw and let out a deep breath. "I gotta go, Vanilla, but I want you to do one more thing for me."

"What's that?"

"Send me a dick pic."

Colt smirks. "You can't be serious."

"Serious as hell. If I don't get it in the next five minutes I'm gonna be pissed at you."

The line goes dead and Colt lays there for a bit. He's never sent anyone a picture like that before. It feels so juvenile and more than a little naughty. And yet, a part of him wants to do it just because Marc told him to. Score another Colt Jackson first for Marc Fiarri.

Colt swipes through his phone to the camera, then he takes the picture of his junk. He sends it to Marc and then deletes the photo from his phone. Out of sight, out of mind.