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before I go insane.” My fingers seek my own hair, and for the billionth time I wish it were longer so I could yank it in frustration.
    “Will you all ow me to top you right now?” Marcus patiently asks, no pressure to comply in his voice.
    “You know you don’t h ave to ask. You’re mentally and physically strong enough to take me,” I flippantly reply when what I really want to do is beg, plead, and cry YES!
    “I want permission, Cort. I will not force you. That will let my nature out to play and I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop myself before I do something heinous.” Marc’s voice is serious and tinged with fear.
    “Is that why you always want us to bend to you, you’re scared you’ll force us and you’ll love it?” The small flash of insight intrigues me.
    “I’ve done some very bad things, Cort, and some of them were even to you. Some of the worst I simultaneously regret and cherish the pleasure I found from the attack. I already know how much I love it. Please don’t fight me tonight… I won’t be able to fight myself if you do.”
    “Oka y,” I say and my voice wavers from a combination of excitement and fear.
    “Okay, you’re giving me permission?” The white of Marc’s eyes increases and I know that he is looking at me in shock.
    “Please,” my voice crack s and shakes from nervousness.
    “You make me crazy , too.” Marcus says as he slides down my body until his heavy weight is pressing down on top of mine. I find comfort from Marc’s body on mine with his smoky scent seeping into my nostrils. Marcus gently kisses my throat, lips leaving a dampness on my flesh, and my body lights on fire. My cock hardens in an instant at the feel of Marc’s thick arousal throbbing against my hip.
    “How can you do this?” I breathe, trying to ignore how incredible it is to have a man touch me, hold me, arouse me, and comfort me.
    “Y ou mean because I’m not gay?” Marcus firmly settles on top me, getting comfortable, and I love knowing that he is excited to be on top of me. His erection bites into my own, its warmth and firmness is breathtaking. I whimper in need as my fingers dig into the earth, gathering leaves and pine needles between my fingers.
    “Yeah, I don’t understand that,” I practically whine, trying my damnedest not to swivel my hips against Marcus. Commitment ceremony or not, Ezra and I haven’t sexually touched in months and we haven’t had real sex together in years. I’m flesh starved- starved for the feel of a virile man pressed against my body. Women are great… sexy, sweet, and soft… but nothing compares to the hardness, the grunting, and the strength of a man writhing against you. I miss the feel of whiskers abrading my flesh. I pray that Marc’s answer can help me come to terms with my own problems because I cannot continue to live as I have. 
    “I know you enjoy Ezra’s company in this way, and you tell yourself you’re not gay since you’re topping him. Well, I will never bottom to anyone. If you want to play with me, my naughty boy, you will bottom to me. And I’m as straight as an arrow, with the exception of you, it seems,” he murmurs while scrunching his face in confusion.
    “And what if I don ’t want to be the bottom?” I defiantly hiss, fear making me lash out. I know damned well we aren’t talking BDSM, we’ve finally entered gay territory after years of skirting the fringes. We’re not talking about me sucking Marc’s cock as his own version of my writing- pressure release, and not the sexual kind- emotional. What Marc is offering is… Jesus, he’s offering to be my lover. Marc let Regina go to see if she had a better future with Pretty Boy, and now Marc is as lost and alone as I am.
    “Keep telling yourself that, Cort. Someday you’ll realize that it won’t change reality. You’re married to a ma n and you’ve wanted me since we met. You are not straight in any way,” Marcus stresses. “I don’t judge. I just want you