At first, the fleeting thought that Mark is attractive is easy to ignore. Leo is confident enough in his own masculinity to acknowledge that there are men in the world other than himself who have attractive qualities, and who other people might enjoy spending time with in a romantic setting. He also knows that as lovely as Mark is, he feels no need to have cuddles and roses with him, unless he falls asleep leaning against him and the Roses in question are of the soft-centred chocolate assortment variety.
One or two dreams in which Mark appears naked and smiling warmly at him is probably just latent trauma from walking in on him in the shower. The few seconds of horror in which he saw more of the other man than he’d ever intended to played over and over in his mind during the day, so it only made sense that he’d dream about them, too.
It was also perfectly rational that he’d poke at Mark’s stomach while he was asleep, just to see if it had the pleasant give he thought it would. He was so thin that it seemed impossible that he’d be soft, but it was nice that he was. Somewhere, out there, was someone who’d enjoy being cuddled by him a lot. Lucky certainly did.
What he wasn’t all right with, though, was waking up achingly hard on a daily basis after having Mark kiss him in a dream every night for a week. He wasn’t all right with running to the shower to make it go away, and he wasn’t all right with being awkward with his impromptu flat mate.
He wasn’t gay. He’d never so much as thought about another man that way. There had been no drunken, youthful experiment. And there had been so many women, who’d he’d enjoyed being with and even loved, once or twice.
But then there was Mark, sprawled out asleep on his couch with his underwear around his thighs and Lucky lying next to him like naked men on the couch were completely normal. The image had seared itself in Leo’s mind, so he couldn’t get rid of it. Just sitting on the same couch now while Mark showered brought back every detail.
The way Mark had looked so peaceful in sleep, like he could easily have been a fallen angel. The little smile on his face that he normally reserved for his temporary rescuer. The way his fingers had curled into the thrown-off blanket. The way he’d blushed, high and pink, and tucked himself shyly back into his underwear, half-hard because it was the morning and he was a healthy young man.
That he himself had instantly risen to match him, completely without any other provocation. Leo bit his lip, wishing that his erection would go away. He wasn’t gay. He wasn’t fantasising about Mark.
He couldn’t be. God, he couldn’t be. Mark was different, but he’d always been so uncomfortable around gay men. Tried not to be, because they were only human, but it was so awkward. Evidently, because he’d just been waiting for one of them to offer to fuck him.
Was that what Mark was imagining right now?
Leo’s cock jumped at the idea of Mark in the shower, imagining them together and pulling himself off, soft little sighs and moans drowned out by the sound of the water. It was embarrassingly obvious at the front of his underwear, stretched as far as it would go and still straining. He reached down to adjust himself, and gasped at his own touch.
It couldn’t hurt to do it just once, could it? Get it out of his system. Just as a sort of experiment. Yeah. That was it. The exception that would prove the rule.
Hesitantly, he lay down slowly on the couch, resting his head on Mark’s pillow and stretching his legs out a little, one knee bent so they were comfortably far apart. This was much more comfortable, and now that he was letting go, it wasn’t nearly as frightening. It was just once. He’d probably stop halfway through because it was only an exotic little fantasy brought on by being closer to Mark than he was to anyone else.
Normally, he’d pause to tease himself, but as he was already as hard as he was going to get, there was little point. He slid a hand under the waistband of his boxers and got a good grip, breathing out slowly and clearing his mind. The sound of the water running in the shower provided inspiration for exactly the image he needed; Mark doing the same. Leo wriggled back into the couch and smiled to himself at the idea of a slightly confused Mark suddenly attracted to his gruff, horrible flatmate who’d done nothing but be difficult and awkward with him, even when he was trying to be nice.
The image of Mark’s body was still starkly fresh in his mind, and it was so easy to imagine slipping in to the bathroom, undressing, and then joining him in the shower. They’d both be covered in soap and hard to hold on to, so Mark would have to get a good grip on his arms, hard enough to leave bruises. He’d wrap his long legs tight around Leo’s waist and welcome him into his body, head tilted back against the tiles, eyes closed, elegant throat nearly the same colour as the wall behind him, but warm and soft and badly in need of being bitten all over.
He’d have to wear a turtleneck to hide it. Maybe the purple one that made his eyes look green? Leo grunted softly at the image of Mark after, getting dressed with slightly hooded eyes and a sway to his hips, content in the way really good sex left you. A little slow and clumsy and happy to sit down in the armchair for a while on top of Leo. But he wouldn’t be able to resist for long. Clever fingers would wrap around Leo’s cock, knowing just where to touch because he had one of his own and he’d done this before. He’d start off gently, and then get slowly firmer and faster until he was going so hard it almost hurt, and then-
Leo started at his own deep groan when he came, eyes open wide and staring at the ceiling in awe. The sound of the shower had stopped, so Mark would be out here soon, and here he was, lying on the couch with a mess in his underwear and panting. He blushed so his face burned and hurried to his own room, shocked that he’d managed to go through with it. Shocked at what he’d imagined along the way.
He couldn’t want Mark. He didn’t. He just hadn’t had a wank in a long time and his mind was playing tricks on him. Any port in a storm. He’d go out tonight and find someone to bring home with him. Someone with huge, soft breasts and long hair, warm eyes and a perfect, porcelain throat.
No. Maybe with an average throat. Or someone darker-skinned. Pale was unhealthy, anyway.
Calming down slowly as he dressed, Leo almost had himself convinced that it had all really just been an accident. He’d meant to imagine exactly what he was thinking about looking for tonight, and Mark had gotten in the way. He was a bit like Lucky in that way; making you trip over him because he was under your feet, but in the sort of way that left you fond of him. He stepped out of the bedroom with a cheerful expression and grinned at Mark.
Who was wearing his purple jumper. Fuck.
Read Cecilia’s other sexy story published here on Every Night Erotica, Beg, Choke, Breathe.
Cecilia Ryan just writes down what the people in her head tell her to.