Mark was so surprised he didn't know what to
say.
"So…" Randy ran his hand over his hair
anxiously. "I'll take what I can get. I'm good with whatever. No
strings. Okay? You have your reasons for being here, I have mine
for wanting you here."
Mark looked down at his open belt buckle and
then at Randy, the candles, the awards, and again at the man
himself.
"Nothing we do will go beyond these walls. We
both have reasons to fear repercussions if they do. But you have my
word, Alex's part is secure. And I will never take advantage of
him. Never. I will be his guardian angel in Rome. If anyone lays a
finger on him, they will deal with me."
Mark gaped at Randy at this bizarre turn of
events.
Randy shut up, sat still, and waited.
Mark took his sweater off, over his head and
dropped it on the carpeted floor. Randy leaned back on his hands,
as if bracing himself for what may come next.
Mark unzipped his pants, dragging them down
his legs.
"Oh, God. I heard you go commando. Oh, God."
Randy rubbed his own crotch.
Mark stepped out of his shoes and socks, then
his trousers. "You will watch over my son?"
"Like I am his father." Randy crossed his
heart. "May God strike me down."
Mark opened arms to him. "Do what you
wish."
Randy covered his face for a moment and Mark
heard him take a deep breath. Stepping closer, Mark caressed
Randy's hair gently. When Randy looked up he had tears running down
his face.
"Am I fucking dreaming?" Randy asked.
Mark crawled on the bed and lay back, bending
one knee.
"Oh, my fucking God." Randy stood and nearly
ripped his own clothing off to get naked. He was huffing for air
and shaking as he did. Stripped bare, Randy tugged on his erect
cock and stared at Mark. "Christ, I'm already on the edge."
Mark bent both knees and spread his legs.
"Oh fuck!" Randy scrambled for a condom and
rolled it on, nearly dropping the bottle of lubrication.
Mark lay still, patient. For a guardian angel
for his son? He would give his blood.
Randy finally managed to get prepared and
knelt between Mark's feet on the bed, looking up at him in awe. "I
will jerk off to this for the next twenty-two years."
Mark held his own balls, raising them up and
offering himself.
"Damn." Randy crawled closer, pointing his
stiff cock at Mark's rim and pushing in. "Oh fuck…oh, fucking
God…"
Mark felt Randy keeping still so he didn't
come instantly. He toyed with his own soft cock, more for Randy
than himself.
Randy stared at the connection and Mark's
act, pushing in slowly. Mark knew Randy was riding the thin edge of
a pending climax.
His breathing irregular and mixed with
sniffling of emotion, Randy pushed in deeper and with two thrusts
of his hips, came. He coughed and closed his eyes, holding Mark's
legs for balance and then stared at Mark from his head to his
groin.
"Mark…" Randy's voice broke with his
sobs.
"You're welcome." Mark smiled softly.
~
Steve came back from a grueling run, boiling
hot and exhausted. Ten miles. He hadn't eaten since Mark left and
kept checking the time. On his last leg of the run to the house, a
stretch limousine pulled up in front of his home. Steve felt his
blood run cold at the sight and stood by, hands on knees, catching
his breath as a chauffeur opened the door. Mark stepped out, and
spun on his heels, immediately seeing Steve.
The driver tipped his cap and left.
Mark waited as Steve approached him, dripping
in perspiration. He was terrified to ask Mark how it went. Mark
didn't express anything, simply stared at Steve.
"Are…" Steve dabbed at the running drops on
his temples. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine." Mark held his leather jacket over
his shoulder and removed his keys from his trouser pocket, walking
to the door.
Steve followed. "Did…"
Mark opened the door and tossed his jacket on
the sofa, taking the stairs two by two to his bedroom. Steve stood
at the bottom floor looking up. He couldn't even ask. Did you fuck?
Did you work it out?
Steve walked up the stairs heavily, still
boiling from the run. He heard Mark's voice and looked into the
bedroom.
"Yes, Alex. Everything is fine. No
worries."
Steve cringed. He licked the salt off his
lips and took off his shoes and socks as Mark stood with his back
towards him, talking on the phone.
"He's a lovely chap. He said he's going to
watch over you. So you have a wonderful ally in Rome."
Steve kicked off his shorts and briefs into a
damp pile and stood staring at Mark, hands on hips, listening.
"He promised me he'd be your guardian angel.
So, if anyone gives you grief, you go to Randy…no need to thank me,
Alex. You just stop fretting. Okay? Love you, too." Mark hung up,
glanced once at Steve and dialed his phone again.
Steve walked to the bed, standing opposite
where Mark was. Mark looked so hot, like he had been on a modeling
shoot. His hair was gleaming and his outfit was his perfect runway
glamour.
"Adam, no more need to worry…no, he was
wonderful. He assured me Alex would be in good hands. And Randy
himself promised to watch over Alexander like a father." Mark
laughed. "Yes, of course I believe him. So, no more worries. Right?
Yes. No, actually, I don't think so, Adam. I want to just relax
tonight. So tell Jackie next week. All right? Cheers." Mark placed
the phone down and finally looked at Steve.
"Did…" Steve pulled on his soft cock and knew
he needed to shower. "Everything went okay?"
"Yes. Fine." Mark looked at the bed and began
making it, since Steve hadn't.
"So…just coffee?"
Mark glared at him. "Steven."
Steve held up his hand and walked into the
bathroom. He shut the door and leaned both palms on the vanity,
staring at himself in the mirror. "Fuck!" Steve tried not to
explode. Visions of those two kissing, sucking, fucking…
"Fuck!" Steve slammed the shower door open
with a crash, nearly knocking it off its track.
The door swung open and Mark stood there,
glaring at him. "Don't you dare." Mark growled. "Don't you bloody
dare!"
"Sorry." Steve held up his hands. "Just…just
tell me it was just coffee."
In a calm measure voice Mark said, "It was
just coffee."
Steve didn't believe him for a minute. But he
had to, didn't he? "Coffee. You just talked over coffee."
"You are beginning to wear my patience."
Mark's green eyes blazed with fury.
Steve again held up his hand and turned on
the water. Mark left. Steve stepped into the tub and punched the
wall so hard he broke the marble tile into pieces.
"Steven!" was yelled from outside the
room.
Steve opened and closed his sore hand and was
about to demolish the room he was so angry. But he had no one to
blame but himself.
Blake Hughes and his partner, Hunter
Rasmussen, pushed a shopping basket down a grocery store aisle.
They were wearing their Los Angeles Fire Department uniforms, and
were buying food to prepare for the men and women they worked with
at the station. Blake did most of the cooking, liking it, and
having the best culinary skill. Hunter could do a few simple meals;
spaghetti with sauce, garlic bread…but not much else.
They had already hit the produce section for
salad, and were staring into the cooler for meat. Hunter picked up
a large package of chicken cutlets, showing Blake.
"Sure. I can do chicken parmesan."
"Yes!" Hunter pumped his fist and tossed it
into the cart.
Blake said, "We need tomato sauce and cheese
now."
"Okay." Hunter looked up at the signs
designating the food locations.
"Hunt," Blake said quietly.
"What?"
"That chick is checking you out."
Hunter took a look at a young mother with an
infant child sitting in the cart. The child was chewing a cookie
and covered in crumbs.
Blake chuckled and watched Hunter, his big
gorgeous lover, who looked like a calendar model in his fireman
uniform.
Hunter didn't even smile at the woman, stood
beside Blake and kissed his cheek. The woman appeared slightly
shocked and pushed the cart down the aisle.
"Love you, ya big nut." Blake laughed and
felt his face blush.
"Friggin hate kids. Did you see how slimed up
it was?" Hunter shivered comically.
Blake cracked up and gave him a playful
shove.
Hunter walked closely behind Blake, touching
his ass. "Besides, she was looking at you, stud."
"Nah. You." Blake picked up a bottle of
tomato sauce and read the ingredients.
"Come on, Blake. I want to work out while
it's quiet. Let's buy this shit and go." Hunter took the tomato
sauce out of Blake's hand and put it into the cart as Blake added
three more, enough to feed the whole crew.
"Okay." Blake made one more stop at the dairy
counter and picked out cheese, and then he and Hunter stood in
line, loading their items onto the conveyer belt.
"Whoa!"
Blake looked up from his task at Hunter.
"What?"
Hunter held one of the celebrity tabloid
magazines in front of him, showing Blake the cover.
Blake gasped and grabbed it to read the
headline.
Both he and Hunter stood side by side to
inspect it.
The bold headline read: 'LAPD's Lieutenant
Using Force to Keep Alex in Line?'
Blake gaped at a photo of Billy carrying Alex
'caveman-style' on a public street. Blake tossed the magazine onto
the conveyer belt and tried to look inconspicuous for buying the
classless issue.
Hunter grabbed three more similar magazines,
all with Alex and Billy's photos on the cover, and tossed them on
the pile.
"What the hell was Billy doing?" Hunter
asked.
"Shut up. Don't say anything until we get out
of here." Blake finished emptying their food cart onto the conveyer
belt, hoping the checkout girl didn't comment on the stack of
celebrity magazines, since they were in uniform.
Trying to keep calm, Blake paid for the food
while Hunter took the groceries from the bagger and placed them
back into the cart. They thanked the clerks, and then walked out of
the food store to the fire medic rig.
"Oh my God!" Hunter said as he and Blake
stood beside the truck and unloaded the bags into the back
seat.
"Shit. Hurry. I have to read that story."
Blake shoved the rest of the paper bags into the truck and Hunter
hurried to push the cart down a metal return rack.
Blake scrambled into the driver's seat and
Hunter the passenger's seat, and then they dug out the magazines
and read them.
"Listen to this," Blake said, folding back
the page containing several photos of Billy carrying Alex out of a
bar. "Alexander Richfield, the twenty-four-year-old star of the gay
vampire drama Being Screwed was caught out by his
forty-four-year-old LAPD police lieutenant hubby, carousing in a
notorious gay tavern in WeHo known for its bikers and tattooed
gods." Blake gave Hunter a look of angst and kept reading,
"Onlookers say Alex was punching the police lieutenant and shouting
he had ruined his acting career."
Hunter showed Blake the magazine photos he
was holding. "Look at this. It says, 'Time is definitely not on Lt
Billy Sharpe's side as his young superstar husband is out for fresh
meat.'"
"You think they were just having fun?" Blake
asked.
"Does this look like fun?" Hunter showed a
close-up of Alex's fury as he punched Billy while sitting in a
white pickup truck.
"Don't the two of them understand that now
everyone has a goddamn camera?" Blake checked the time. "You think
Mark knows?"
"Does he food shop?"
"Of course he food shops!" Blake started the
truck and headed back to the fire station.
"Should I call him? Or Steve?"
"Fuck. I don't know." Blake left the parking
area and drove onto the main street. "Call Jeff or Mickey
first."
"Why?"
"Because. They're closer to Billy than we
are."
"Okay." Hunter stacked the magazines on the
seat between them and scrolled through his cell phone numbers, then
put the phone to his ear.
Blake stopped at a red light and rubbed his
face tiredly.
"Mick? Hunter. Hey, uh…Blake and I just did a
food run…"
Blake glanced at Hunter, then down at the
front pages of the tabloid press.
"…well, we picked up those celebrity rags? Ya
know the kind." Hunter met Blake's gaze and then took one of the
magazines, looking at it. "Billy and Alex are on the cover."
Blake could hear Officer Mickey Stanton's
voice over Hunter's phone, but not what he said.
"It's bad, Mick. You think the L-T knows?"
Hunter stared out of the windshield, his hand on the magazine.
"Okay. Better you than me. I didn't want to be the one to call him.
Or Mark." He looked at Blake and shook his head, indicating the two
LAPD cops had no idea.
"Okay. Hey, when are your next days off?"
Hunter asked.
Blake kept driving to the fire station,
rubbing his head through his hair. He had no clue how people dealt
with being in the spotlight constantly. If he had strangers taking
photos of him and Hunter wherever they went, he'd lose his
mind.
~
Alex sat in the living room and reread the
movie script, loving it. He knew better than to begin memorizing
it, as this was just a draft. Revisions after revisions would
follow. He still had his part in the television series to tend to,
but that soon would be on hiatus for the holidays and his filming
would start.
Feeling very cozy in Billy's LAPD sweatshirt
and a soft pair of torn jeans, Alex had his legs tucked under him
as he read the script, trying to envision actually having his name
on a big screen in a co-starring role in a movie theater.