No Regrets Ch. 06

Thanks to everyone who sent me feedback, I really appreciate it -- however, I write like a snail, so I'm pretty shocking with the updates, sorry : /

NB: Fictitious story with fictitious people and situations, always use protection, blah blah blah

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Deacon grabbed two beers from the fridge, flipped the caps off and made his way into the lounge, where Mark was sitting on the sofa, his bowed head not hiding the tense look set on his face. Deacon gently kicked Mark's foot with his and cleared his throat, waiting until Mark looked up at him before offering one of the beers. Deacon's stomach clenched as he noticed the care Mark had taken not to let their fingers touch as he took the bottle. Deacon sat down in the armchair next to the sofa, both boys feeling the gravity of the act. After a month of hardly keeping their hands off each other, sitting in separate chairs whilst they were alone was an intimacy gap equivalent to the Grand Canyon. And the silence accompanying them was of the awkward variety, rather than the comfortably exhausted sort they had become accustomed to. Deacon finished half his beer with a long pull before leaning forward and putting the bottle on the coffee table with a muted thud.

"So," Deacon started, his eyes flicking over Mark's taut face. He had meant to say more, but his head was suddenly too jumbled, his mouth too dry. Mark sipped at his beer and met Deacon's eyes.

"So?" Mark asked slowly, his eyebrows raised, his lips set in a firm line. "C'mon man, you were the one that wanted to talk, right? So talk." Deacon pressed his eyes closed briefly before looking at Mark.

"Don't do this, Mark," Deacon said, anger and desperation vying for control of his voice. "Don't stone wall me now, not after...everything." Mark heard the tone and sighed heavily, shaking his head. He knew that they had to settle things now, but Mark couldn't bring himself to give Deacon up, couldn't make it so easy to finish. Something in him was telling him to fight it, a part of himself that he was struggling to keep under control.

"I'm sorry," Mark sighed, putting his beer down and running his hand through his increasingly shaggy hair; Deacon had said that he should grow it, give him something to hold onto when Mark sucked him off. Mark swallowed heavily, thinking about that moment a few weeks earlier, thinking it felt like a lifetime ago now. "I'm not...it's just gonna be weird, y'know?" Mark let out a long shaky breath and looked across at Deacon. "All this time without anyone else around, it's gonna be weird with the girls back...quitting this cold turkey." A pained expression flitted across Deacon's face, his heart aching unexpectedly as Mark's words shut the door on a prospect Deacon hadn't even really considered.

"Yeah, you're right," Deacon agreed with a lump in his throat, trying to regain his composure. "I mean, we had a good run, but now..." Deacon trailed off, part of him willing Mark to just fuck him there on the couch, everything else be damned. But Mark was too focused on what Deacon had said to notice the pleading intensity in Deacon's eyes. 'We had a good run, but now...' Mark knew what that meant, he knew Deacon was saying it was over without having to actually say it.

"Just like you said," Mark said with a slow nod. "We just had to...get this out of our systems. Right?" Deacon cringed inwardly as he heard his words thrown back at him, his own lies coming full circle.

"Right. Like I said," Deacon agreed, the words grating painfully past the empty grin he plastered on his face. "I'm with Sarah, you're with Marie, peanut butter goes with jelly, and I need another beer." Deacon stood abruptly and went to the kitchen, opened two more beers and brought them back to the lounge. "It won't even be that bad," Deacon suggested, hoping as he said it that it would be true. "I mean, the girls are back in two days, our families will be back in a week, school starts the week after that. There won't be that much time to think about it." Mark nodded in agreement, and both boys sat and drank their beers in silence. Eventually, Mark dragged his gaze away from the toes of his shoes and looked at Deacon.

"Deac, are you okay?" Mark asked hesitantly. "With this, I mean," he added, gesturing toward Deacon and then himself. "We can go back to the way things were, right?" Mark held his breath, his beer tilting dangerously to the side as he waited for the blonde's answer. Mark knew that breaking it off was what they had to do, but it wasn't what he wanted to do. He wanted to kiss Deacon until neither of them could breath, claim every inch of skin with his tongue, stay as far inside the heat of Deacon as he could, for as long as he could. But his pride prevented him from telling Deacon any of that. Because more than anything, he wanted his friend...his lover to want it too. Deacon looked at Mark for a long time, a strange expression on his face.

"Yeah...we can. We will," Deacon said quietly, firmly. "Everything will be like it was, this'll stay our secret, and no one will even know anything happened." Deacon grinned softly and shrugged. "We probably won't even remember why we had a big emo moment over it later." Mark snorted and rolled his eyes, a faint grin pulling at his mouth as he took a swig from his bottle. The decision had been made, the mood had been broken, and Mark hoped that Deacon could be right; maybe in a couple of weeks time, he wouldn't be able to remember why he'd made such a big deal over the whole thing. It's not like things were so bad before - Mark had a loving girlfriend, a great bunch of friends, a caring family. Things had just gotten...skewed, with just the two of them involved, mountains out of molehills. Mark finished the last of his beer with a loud slurp and plonked the bottle down on the coffee table.

"That's it, then? Talk over?" Mark asked. Deacon considered it, then nodded slowly. "And we're good?" Mark continued, eyebrows raised. Deacon smiled at him, his eyes soft and warm.

"Yeah, man. We're good."

"Cool," Mark grinned back before exhaling slowly into the silence. "So...what should we do now?"

"Wanna play some Halo?" Deacon suggested, standing up and gathering the bottles from the table. Mark shrugged back and nodded, switching the console on as Deacon made his way into the kitchen. As the game started loading, Mark ran a hand over his face and sighed heavily. Playing video games would probably be what they would be doing anyway, but now that he knew he couldn't have Deacon anymore, all Mark wanted to do was touch Deacon, kiss him, fuck him into oblivion. More than usual.

"Mark?" Deacon waved another beer in front of Mark's face.

Mark looked up and took the bottle, forcing a grin onto his face. "Let's play, bitch."

*******

Several hours and a six pack of beer later, Mark declared he was all Halo-ed out. Deacon crouched down next to the console, and sorted through the game discs.

"GT or DOA?"

Mark screwed up his nose. "Ugh, I'm sick of both of those."

"Only because I kick your ass every time," Deacon replied with a laugh.

"Yeah, well its not like we've been getting much practise in lately."

The air seemed to get sucked out of the room in the silence following Mark's implication. Deacon cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck.

"...That's true."

Mark clenched his jaw, a tight smile on his face. "Yeah. So, um. How about Call of Duty?"

Deacon rolled his eyes, glad to be ignoring the awkward tension. "Pfft, you're only picking that so we'll be on the same side and you won't get your ass whooped."

"Well at least I can handle ass whoopage," Mark snarked light heartedly.

"I seem to recall your temper tantrums being the reason we no longer play Madden?"

"That's different - you actually play...played football, unfair tactical advantage. And what am I, a three year old? They weren't temper tantrums, dude."

Mark snorted. "Ugh, semantics. Hissy fits then." Mark smiled sunnily at Deacon's narrowed eyes.

"I'll show you a hissy fit," Deacon growled. He hopped up onto the coffee table and launched at Mark, performing an elbow drop on the way down. Deacon's elbow caught Mark in the gut, and he fell sideways on the couch with a winded gasp. Deacon pinned Mark beneath him, covered Mark's head and shoulders with a cushion and started punching it playfully.

"How's this for a hissy fit, huh?" Deacon said, half laughing half

panting. He continued to pummel Mark's cushioned body.

"Aargh...no....stop it," Mark gasped, his voice and laughter muffled.

"C'mon, I didn't mean...ow!...mean it...Uncle, uncle!" Deacon removed the cushion and the boys grinned at each other, both flushed and panting. Mark raised one of his hands to Deacon's side, meaning to push him off. But his hand, seeming to move on its own accord, found a strip of tan skin where Deacon's shirt had ridden up, and Mark slowly drew his thumb across the exposed flesh. Deacon's breath hitched at the contact, his eyes burning into Mark's as Mark continued to stroke Deacon's side. Deacon swallowed and quickly got up off the couch.

"I'm getting another beer," Deacon said, his voice uneven. "Load whatever game you want." He turned and disappeared into the kitchen.

Mark looked toward the kitchen, worrying his lower lip between his teeth, wondering anxiously if these feelings, these compulsions and urges, would disappear just because he wanted them to. If he wanted them to. Mark closed his eyes tightly, hearing his grandpa's favourite proverb in the back of his head. 'Either shit or get off the pot, boy.' Although he was sure his pop would never have meant it for this situation, it held true anyway. Go after it or let it go. And they would let it go; that was the plan, it was what Deacon wanted. And it was the right thing to do, Mark knew they both agreed on that much. But Mark didn't want to let it go until the very last moment possible. His hands all but shaking with want, he jumped up from the sofa and moved quietly into the kitchen where Deacon was sculling a beer beside the sink, finishing it with a deep sigh.

As Deacon set the empty bottle down on the bench, he was startled by two warm hands on his hips, quickly followed by a puff of hot, moist breath on the back of his neck. Deacon could feel goose bumps rising on his skin, a coil of heat unfurling in his gut at the touch. His throat dry despite the beer, Deacon willed his dick to behave and tightened his grip on the bench top.

"Mark..." Deacon started, cringing as he heard the quiver in his voice. He could feel Mark's lips grazing over his neck, could hear his own blood pounding in his ears.

"Shh," Mark murmured against Deacon's neck, his hands moving around the blonde's waist and popping the top button of his jeans. "Don't we get some sort of...break-up fuck?"

Deacon shivered at Mark's low, husky whisper against his skin and unconsciously leaned into the sound as Mark made quick work of undoing Deacon's fly. Mark kissed along Deacon's neck as one of his hands dipped below the blonde's boxers, his fingers circling Deacon's already hardening cock, stroking the velvety shaft excruciatingly slowly. Deacon bit his lip to hold back a moan and closed his eyes.

"Mark, don't, we said, we agreed," Deacon stammered, breathing heavily, his body going along with the idea even as he weakly protested. Mark licked behind Deacon's ear and flicked his thumb over the sensitive head of his friend's cock, grinding his own hips forward into Deacon. Deacon's cock twitched as he felt Mark's own hardness against his ass.

"We fucked last night..." Mark's voice husky and distracted, "...several times... so what's once more gonna hurt?" he continued, his free hand roaming under Deacon's t-shirt and caressing the smooth skin underneath. "Mmm, maybe twice more..." Deacon grinned before he could help it, pushing back against Mark's straining erection. "Our secret, right? No one has to know," Mark started, when Deacon's cell phone chose that moment to beep from the lounge, dragging him back to reality faster than a heartbeat.

Mark felt Deacon's whole body stiffen against him when the phone beeped, and he stilled his hands instantly. It was probably Sarah, and here he was about to fuck his best friend less than half a day after they had decided to go back to being friends without benefits.

"Deac..." Mark pulled his hands away from Deacon and stepped back. Deacon choked back a groan at the loss, and squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. He turned around and crushed his lips against Mark's before burying his face in Mark's neck.

"Just...just tonight, okay? Tomorrow...tomorrow'll be it, like a dry run," Deacon said against Mark's flushed skin, ignoring the desperation behind his words. Ignoring the voice in his head that was wondering why he needed a deadline if he was so over it. Mark nodded, troubled by how relieved he was that Deacon had agreed to a few more hours together like that.

His mouth watered a little when he felt Deacon's cock pressing against his hip, his lips tingling like they knew it could be last time they would wrap themselves around Deacon's length. Mark pushed Deacon up against the pantry by his hips before dropping to his knees and tugging down Deacon's open pants and underwear. Mark licked his palm and stroked Deacon slowly, forcing Deacon's legs further apart with his knees.

Mark licked his lips and placed his mouth over the head of Deacon's hard shaft, suckling on it wetly as he stroked. Deacon dropped his head back against the pantry door.

"Fuuuuck," Deacon groaned. Mark licked the underside from base to tip, then swirled his tongue along the sides before sucking on the tip again, his tongue stroking the sensitive spot below the slit. Deacon fisted his hands in Mark's hair, his knuckles turning white as he struggled to keep himself from thrusting forward into Mark's teasing mouth. Deacon let out a breathless moan as Mark finally took pity on him, working Deacon's aching cock into his mouth, and the blonde looked down, his breath catching in his chest at the sight of his best friend, on his knees, lips stretched around his dick, sultry brown eyes staring unwaveringly up at him. Deacon felt the tip of his cock nudge the back of Mark's throat, his breath coming in ragged bouts as he watched Mark's throat work and swallow him down, eyes watering slightly.

Mark swallowed a few more times once he felt his lips reach the base of Deacon's dick, opening his throat up; if this was the last time he would ever suck Deacon off, the possessive side of him wanted Deacon to always remember it. With that in mind, he drew his mouth up Deacon's dick, sucking as he went, cheeks hollowed out as he created a tight vacuum in his mouth. When just the head remained between his spit-slick lips, he swallowed the whole shaft down again, deep throating Deacon in one go.

Mark gripped Deacon's hips, stilling them against the pantry door as Deacon tried to jerk forward in his mouth, and started sucking up and down on Deacon's pole torturously slow, breathing through his nose and timing his swallows so he was able to deep throat Deacon on each downward motion. Deacon's hands were still clutching Mark's brown locks, hoarse curses and jumbled words spilling from his mouth.

"Oh...fuck, Mark...so good, so...oh God, just like that," Deacon muttered, his head lolling against the door. He felt one of Mark's hands drift from his hip, around the back of his thigh, fingers brushing down the crease of his ass. Deacon moaned and widened his legs further, a jolt traveling through his body as a finger separated his cheeks and swirled around the pucker of his hole. Deacon untangled a hand from Mark's hair and grabbed Mark's searching hand by the wrist, yanking it up to his mouth. Mark slowed his sucking as he watched Deacon draw one of Mark's fingers into his warm, wet mouth, swirling his tongue around it before releasing it and pushing Mark's hand back to his ass. Mark continued the suction of Deacon's shaft as he worked his wet finger into Deacon's hole, pushing the digit in past the second knuckle before crooking it upwards, searching for and finding the bundle of nerves inside of Deacon. Deacon gasped and jerked his hips against Mark's hand as a jolt of pleasure surged through his cock.

"Fuck, oh Jesus...I-I'm gonna...shit, suck it Mark, oh God," Deacon groaned, his hands tightening in Mark's hair each time Mark drew his fingertip over Deacon's prostate.

Mark could feel Deacon's ass tighten around his finger, his balls drawing up tightly and his cock growing even bigger as Deacon started coming. Mark pressed his finger down inside Deacon's ass and swallowed repeatedly as his best friend's cock jerked in his mouth, spewing ropes of hot, salty cum down his throat. Mark looked up as he took Deacon's load, could feel a little dribble out the side of his mouth, Deacon's glazed eyes on his, his own cock straining at his zipper as he watched his friend lose control, throaty whimpers escaping on every exhale. Deacon let his head fall back on the pantry door as Mark sucked him clean and pulled himself to his feet by Deacon's hips.

Mark took in the rise and fall of Deacon's chest, his lips parted, eyes closed, head tilted back against the door. Eventually, he opened his eyes and found Mark staring at him. Deacon gripped the back of Mark's head and ran fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck before pulling his head forward, meeting his lips in a lazy kiss. Mark tilted his head to the side as the kiss deepened, his hands resting comfortably on Deacon's bare hips. Mark sighed into the kiss as Deacon's tongue claimed his mouth, his lips plump and warm. Deacon pulled away and gasped a breath, his forehead leaning on Mark's.

"So hot...your eyes, when you're doing that...looking right at me," Deacon mumbled, his hot breath mingling with Mark's in the space between their swollen lips.

"Shut up," Mark whispered, a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. Deacon laughed lowly and pressed his lips against Mark's briefly. Tugging at Deacon's hips, Mark slowly walked them away from the pantry and through to Deacon's bedroom.

Mark pushed Deacon down on the bed and quickly shucked his shirt and kicked his jeans off. Mark gripped his hard cock and stroked it a few times, spreading precum over the head, a breathy moan escaping from him as he watched Deacon scoot up the bed after ditching his own clothes, his legs drawing up and spreading apart, tongue unconsciously trailing over his lower lip, eyes hooded and fixed on Mark's swollen shaft.

"Fuck me," Deacon whispered, his gaze drifting up Mark's body and latching onto his dark eyes. A blush rose on Deacon's neck and cheeks as he propped himself up on his elbows, his stomach clenching. "Just...fuck me, Mark." Mark swallowed heavily before kneeling on the bed and hoisting Deacon's calves over his hips. Deacon exhaled sharply as Mark canted his hips forward, his wet cockhead rubbing against Deacon's hole. "Mmmph, please," Deacon pleaded, thrusting his hips upwards, his voice tight and strained. Mark hitched Deacon's legs higher on his hips, Deacon's ass lifting off the bed slightly, his ankles crossing just above Mark's ass.

Mark lined his cockhead up at Deacon's hole and, slowly but steadily, pushed his dick through Deacon's ring and into his ass, his breath hitching as his balls nestled against Deacon's crack. Deacon let out a long, soft moan, reaching out and drawing Mark down onto his body by his shoulders, Mark planting his arms on either side of Deacon's head. Smoothing his hands over Mark's chest and coming to rest on either side of his neck, Deacon kissed Mark wetly, thrusting his ass into Mark's hips. Mark pulled away from Deacon's mouth and kissed his ear softly.

"I'm not gonna fuck you," Mark murmured against the shell of Deacon's ear, his voice low and tender, one of his fingers curling around a lock of Deacon's hair, tugging gently. "I don't want us to fuck this time," Mark continued, knowing what he wanted to tell Deacon, but not wanting to actually say it out loud and make it real. Deacon let out a long breath and wrapped his arms around Mark. Mark could feel him nodding against his shoulder, planting light, languid kisses across his neck. Mark started moving his cock in and out of Deacon, his thrusts deep and slow, rocking Deacon back and forth on the bed. Deacon was tightening his arms and legs around Mark on each inward stroke, his leaking cock rubbing against their stomachs, their quiet but lengthy grunts and moans filling the air after each thrust.