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to be happy.”
    “Is that what this is , your twisted version of a sexual intervention? I know you’re fucking straight, you bastard. Is this some kind of a pity fuck? Do you get off on knowing that I want you? I’m not gay, dammit!” I push against Marcus’ chest and try to rise from the ground. His strong hands grip my wrists and push them into the soil. His fingers tenderly wrap around my wrists with his thumbs stroking my pulse points.
    “I didn’t say you were gay, only you can say that,” Marcus softly says, and then his voice turns annoyed and commanding. “And this isn’t a pity fuck, asshole. I wanted you when you were prancing around and leaving doors opens for me to see you and Ezra. You’ve always confused the hell out of me, by the way. For someone who loves to say they are straight, for years all I ever saw you do was fuck my son. Then and now, you’ve resented me, thinking I wanted Ezra, and you know damn well that wasn’t true. I see Ezra as my blooded son, and that also makes you jealous. I can’t be your father and your lover at the same time, so it’s up to you to pick. But your seductive actions are bloody screaming that you want me to fuck you, not parent you.”
    “Fuck you,” I hiss and struggle within Marc’s hold because everything he said was eerily accurate.
    “I see you’re as jealous as always,” Marcus drawls, sounding amused by my outburst. “Now, who is supposed to be topping here, anyway? Stop fighting me or I’ll end up doing more than you’re comfortable with,” Marc warns through his clenched teeth as he fights his true nature. The fight bleeds out of me. I slump to lay passively on the ground. I’ve never allowed anyone to do that to me. I’ve always been the one in control.
    “Good boy ,” Marc praises, and I pretend it doesn’t warm something deep within me. “Now I want us both to get what we want. You’ve pushed my buttons for days and avoided the consequences. Relax.” My eyes are riveted to Marc’s long, elegant fingers. I can barely see, but my excitement has sharpened my night-vision. The dark has attuned my hearing to the point that I can hear his fingers fluttering on his dress pants. Marc’s deft fingers unbutton and unzip his pants. I start to gasp for breath by the time I can see the flash of his dick glow in the night. I lick my suddenly dry lips, remembering every time that thick length has speared my mouth, poured down my throat. I hunger for Marc’s flesh and thirst for his taste.
    Marcus briskly and efficiently repeats the process to my pants. I’m squirming with need when his fingers finally reach in to pull my erection free from my suddenly too tight jeans. I’ve never been as aroused as I am in this instant. I hiss in a breath at the first contact Marc’s skin has ever made with my cock. We’ve touched and skirted my attraction, but Marcus has never touched me in return. He’s made me suck him off as punishment and reward. And it pains me to admit that it was enough to fill my needs for him until lately. As my needs changed, my behavior has worsened.
    “This is what you were begging me for, wasn’t it?” Marcus knowingly murmurs through smirking lips as he begins to stroke me. “Well, not exactly. But you’re not ready for that yet,” he teases me, the glow from the whites of his eye disappears as he flirtatiously winks at me.
    My breath his ses out and my back arches as Marcus lovingly and thoroughly strokes me for the very first time. My body runs with goosebumps and my toes curl in my shoes. I dig my fingernails into the soil and grab a handful of pine-needles in my fist.
    “I’m glad you like this. After all, it is my very first handjob,” Marcus teasingly chuckles out. “I do have plenty of experience with my own cock, though. Shall I show you?” Marc presses our cocks together, both are thick and ready and damp from dripping precum, and he strokes us both at the same time with his intertwined hands. I writhe on