Seb’s Summer by K.C. Wells

Chapter Five

 

June 20

Marcus stepped into the shower. Of all the alterations that had been made over the years, this had to be his favorite part of the house. The tub had been taken out of the bathroom, and a walk-in shower created, complete with a tiled bench. Compared with the poor water pressure of his shower in New York, the jets felt amazing. He washed his hair, rubbing his fingers over his scalp, inhaling the invigorating scent of the shampoo.

When his dick jerked, Marcus glanced down at it. “Well, good morning,” he murmured. “I’ll get to you in a minute.” He turned his face toward the shower head, eyes tight shut, enjoying the warmth and the feel of the water on his body. Jerking off in the shower had to be the best way to start the day.

Well—almost the best way.

Maybe it was a sign that his batteries were finally recharging, because Marcus couldn’t remember the last time he’d woken up horny. He knew exactly where to lay the blame for this—that lean, sexy… lobsterman. Marcus had to admit, seeing him in the oilskins had been a revelation. He’d had him pegged as a loafer, a surfer dude, someone who spent his days on the waves and his nights drinking beer.

Maybe he’s nothing like that at all. Marcus remembered his grandfather talking about the men who trawled for lobster. He’d had nothing but admiration for them. So perhaps Marcus was doing the guy a disservice.

His name is Seb. Marcus smiled to himself. He made sure to tell me that part. He hadn’t meant to hurry away, but running into Seb had caught him unawares. I’m not here to hook up with a hot guy, remember? I’m here to get my life back on track. Because sooner or later—probably sooner—the idyllic bubble he found himself in was going to burst, and he’d have to return to reality.

The only problem was, he had no idea what that reality would be.

He filled a cupped palm with bodywash and proceeded to clean everywhere. He placed his foot on the bench and slid soapy fingers through his crack and over his balls before tentatively pushing a single finger into his hole, wincing at the burn. His douche was stowed away in his toiletries bag, gathering dust, it had been that long since he’d used it. For a man who couldn’t go a day without sex in some form or other, it was hard to believe it had been almost three months since he’d enjoyed the feel of another man’s body against his.

Except that was looking back with rose-colored glasses, and he knew it. Sex had taken on a new dimension, a way of releasing tension, relieving stress, and ultimately had created even more of that stress.

When was the last time I really let myself go and enjoyed it? Just sex, no… enhancements.

He sat on the bench, his legs spread, and wrapped a slick hand around his shaft. Marcus put his head against the wall and closed his eyes, casually sliding his hand back and forth.

Fantasy shower sex was way safer than real-life shower sex any day.

Seb straddled his hips, his hands on Marcus’s neck and nape as they kissed while Seb lifted himself slowly, only to sink back down, until Marcus’s dick was buried in tight heat.

Fuck, that felt amazing.

Marcus grabbed hold of Seb’s ass, prying his cheeks apart, stretching his hole, and Seb rocked faster, riding him harder now, bouncing on Marcus’s hard cock. Marcus kissed Seb’s nipples, flicking them with his tongue, and loving how Seb’s body tightened around his shaft.

“You like that.”

Seb regarded him with wide eyes. “Fuck yeah. Don’t fucking stop.”

Marcus stroked Seb’s back, then slid his hands under Seb’s ass, helping him to bounce harder, faster, his own orgasm advancing. Seb put his hands on Marcus’s shoulders, using them to lever himself up and down, his cock so fucking hard and straight, pointing up at Marcus.

“Put your arms around my neck,” Marcus demanded. When Seb did as instructed, Marcus looked him in the eye. “Now hold on tight and lean back.” He gripped Seb’s hips, forcing him down onto his dick.

“Oh fuck, right there.” Seb’s breathing quickened, his eyes wide, his chest rising and falling, the muscles in his stomach contracting. “Fuck, you keep hitting it like that, and I’m gonna come.”

Marcus smiled. “Then come. Shoot all over me. I want to feel it.”

Seb threw his head back, his hands locked around Marcus’s neck, his mouth wide. “Fuck me. Fuck me.” And then a cry fell from his lips as he shot his load, creating an arc of spunk that pulsed from his cock.

The sight of him coming hands-free, and the feel of his body so fucking tight around Marcus’s dick was the final push. Marcus came inside him, his arms enveloping Seb, holding him against Marcus’s chest.

Kissing Seb while his cock throbbed inside him was the hottest thing Marcus had imagined in a long time. He shot hard against the tiled wall of the shower, so hard that he swore he could hear bells ringing in his head. Tremors shook him as the last drops swirled away with the water.

Except there was a bell ringing.

Marcus launched himself off the bench, flipped off the water, and opened the shower door, listening.

There it was again. Fuck. That was the doorbell, and it was way too early for the mailman. Marcus grabbed a towel, wrapped it around his hips, and stepped out onto the rug, still dripping.

“Marcus?”

What the hell?

He opened the bathroom door. “Jess?”

“Hey,” she called out. “I came in through the French doors. They weren’t locked.” There was a pause. “I haven’t come at a bad time, have I?”

He laughed. “I just finished my shower. Give me a sec to put on some clothes. You wanna be useful? Make some coffee.” Then it hit him. “Do you know what time it is?” It wasn’t even six-thirty.

Jess snorted. “Sure I do. It was still dark when I left Jamaica Plain. And I would have been here even earlier, except I hit a lot of traffic on the 95. My GPS said it would take me an hour and forty-three minutes. I want my money back. That bastard lied.”

He laughed. “Maybe it would take that long in the dead of winter, but not in the summer on the weekend when everyone is heading up to their summer place.” He rubbed himself down briskly, then went into his bedroom to grab his jeans and a T-shirt.

By the time he reached the kitchen, the smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the air. Jess was sitting at the breakfast bar, two plates out, each filled with a couple of pastries. She grinned. “I picked these up on the way. Figured I’d bring breakfast to make up for my very early arrival.”

Damn, it was so good to see her.

Marcus held his arms wide. “Get over here.” Jess was off the stool in a heartbeat, and in his arms for a hug. He clutched her to him, disconcerted to find he was trembling.

Jess broke the hug, put her hands on his upper arms, and stepped back, staring at him. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

He stroked her cheek. “I think I missed you.”

“That’s good, because I missed you.” Her eyes sparkled. “Now pour the coffee.”

Marcus went over to the cabinet and removed two cups, then carried them to the coffee pot. “You still like it with way too much creamer?”

“I started drinking it black a year ago. Which bedroom are you using?”

Marcus grinned. “Guess.”

She laughed. “Well, you’re a little too big for those beds in the attic now, so I figure you’re in the master bedroom, the one with the door that leads onto the patio. You always did like that room, even when you were a kid.” She studied him for a moment. “You look good.”

“I feel good,” he admitted. “This place has been a godsend for me.” He brought over the two cups and joined her on the stool next to hers. “When you asked last weekend if you could come down before the Fourth, I didn’t realize you meant this weekend.”

“I did ask Jake to come with me, but he said he had things to do. Not all that surprising, really. What twenty-two-year-old guy wants to spend the weekend with his mom and his uncle?” She shrugged. “He’ll be here in a few weeks anyway.”

“Exactly two weeks today. I guess when everyone arrives, I’ll be relegated to the attic room again.” He grinned. “Want to keep me company? It’ll be like old times.”

She guffawed. “I am not sharing a bedroom with my brother. I’d rather sleep out in the yard.”

“Actually, I was thinking of staying in the summerhouse.” At least that would give him a place to retreat to, if it all got too much.

Think positively. It’s going to be fine.

All he knew was, the Fourth had seemed such a long time away when he’d first arrived at the house, and yet here it was, almost upon them.

But I’m better than I was then.

He sipped his coffee. “Do I have the pleasure of your company for just today, or are you staying till tomorrow?”

“Would that be okay if I did? Stay, I mean. I put a bag together, just in case. It’s in the car.”

Marcus frowned. “Hey, it’s your family summer home too. You stay as long as you want. Mom and Dad always said we should feel free to do that.”

“I just didn’t know what you’re doing, if you’re working…” She gave him a sideways glance. “But I am concerned.”

“Don’t be.” He glanced at the pastries. “These look good. In fact, I think just looking at them, I’ve gained five pounds.”

Jess laughed. “Are you kidding? You could always eat anything. I used to hate you for that.” She smiled. “Not really.” She sipped her coffee. “Could we go for a walk after this? It’s such a beautiful day. I’d like to stroll down to the dock and sit and stare at the ocean. I’ve missed that.”

He arched his eyebrows. “Did Boston suddenly move inland when I wasn’t looking?”

Jess hit him on the arm. “Idiot. And it’s not the same. Okay, it is the same ocean, but…” Her eyes lit up.

“I get it.” He felt the same way. There was something about the view from the tip of Cape Porpoise that brought his childhood back to him. How many times had he walked there in the past few months? “Sure. We can do that.”

He’d walked the same route for the past four days, unsure of the reason why. It had occurred to him briefly that his subconscious had played a part in that.

Was I hoping to see Seb again?

 

 

“This was a good idea,” Jess murmured as they gazed out over the bay. “I’d forgotten how beautiful this place is. It’s funny how life gets in the way.” She sighed. “I can’t remember the last time I was here.”

“Same here. I don’t think it’s changed much.” Boats were moored close to the dock, water slapping against their hulls, ropes creaking as they loosened and pulled taut. The slight breeze carried the growl of an engine starting up somewhere, and there were voices raised as people called to one another from boats as they passed each other. Birds circled high in the air above them, their shrill cries shattering the tranquility.

Jess leaned against the bench, her arm draped over the back of it. “Can we talk now?”

“About what?”

“Whatever’s going on that you’re not telling me. Like, why you came here. Why you’re not in New York, working.” She peered at him. “Did you lose your job?”

“No,” he assured her. “I still have a job. I’m just taking… I suppose you could call it a sabbatical. A mental health break.”

“Okay,” she said, drawing out the two syllables. “Are you able to share what led up to you needing this break?”

Jesus, how the fuck do I answer that?

He stared at the sunlight glinting on the calm water. “I got into a cycle of corrosive behavior, is the simplest way of putting it.” He sighed. “Which I know doesn’t tell you anything, but this really is difficult for me.”

She reached across and took his hand in hers. “You were there for me in my darkest days. You were the brother I turned to when I found out I was pregnant. And you were amazing.”

“All I did was listen,” he protested. “And maybe give a few practical suggestions.” He’d been twenty-one, in his final year at college, when a seventeen-year-old Jess had called him in tears. They’d talked for two hours on the phone, and he’d been the one to assure her Mom and Dad would not freak.

“Okay, then I can listen now. Or is it so bad that you can’t even tell me?”

He didn’t know what to say. I can’t tell you, because I’m so scared you will never look at me the same way again wasn’t an option. The fear almost choked him.

“I was under a lot of pressure. Deadlines to meet, copy to write, more deadlines, more copy… I had my own ways of relieving my tension, and I do not want to get into those.”

Her lips twitched. “For Christ’s sake, I’m forty years old. If we can’t talk about sex—because that’s what I’m guessing is at the root of this reluctance to share—then we are truly lost.” She tilted her head to one side. “Does it help if I tell you I don’t believe for one nanosecond that my big brother is a virgin? Fuck, you live in New York. You’re gay. You’re a good-looking guy. And believe it or not, I do know what goes on among gay men. Some of my best friends are gay, and their stories make my jaw drop.”

He laughed. “I’m sorry. I keep forgetting. In my head you’re my little sister, the five-year-old kid I chased through the trees at the back of the house, growling I was going to eat you when I caught you.”

“And you still wouldn’t catch me walking out there.” She rubbed her thumb on the back of his hand.

He guessed he could be honest about some of it. “Okay, you were right. I did a lot of hookups to relieve my stress. That wasn’t the problem. It was something that came about because of the sex, and far from helping my situation, my stress levels grew. I know this is vague, but I really can’t talk about this.”

“You’re scaring me.” Her shoulders seemed tense, and her lip trembled.

“All you need to know is that I pulled my head out of my ass, and realized I had to do something. So I did. I called Mom and Dad, and told them I needed to get out of New York for a while and decompress. Dad was worried about the work situation, so he suggested taking a break from it, and he gave me a loan. Not a huge amount, just enough to keep me from going under for a few months, until I felt ready to go back.” A lot of his anxiety had lifted right there.

“And are you ready? To go back?”

“I’m not sure. There are days when I wake up, the world is bright, and I feel like I can do anything. But there are also days when I think about what will come next, and it scares the shit out of me.” He breathed deeply. “I started to write, mostly as a means of getting everything in my head out onto paper. Well, virtual paper. Only, it grew, until I knew I had to finish it, because there are guys out there who are in the same situation I was. They’re being fed so much disinformation, and they need to know the truth.” That was way more than he’d intended saying.

“How much have you written?”

“Enough to publish it as a book. When it’s finished.”

“Can I read it?”

He pulled his hand free of hers and drew back, his breathing rapid. “No.” He’d never thought about that part. Maybe publishing it under a pseudonym was the way to go.

She nodded. “Because if I did, then I would know whatever it is you’re too scared to share with me. Jesus, Marcus. You have to know I’m imagining all kinds of horror stories here.”

“Don’t. I really am okay. I’m in a much better place.” He smiled. “Geographically as well as mentally. At least now you know why I didn’t feel I was the best person for Jake to talk to. Chris is much less of a fuck-up than I am.”

She took a deep breath. “Jake hasn’t said anything, and I haven’t pushed, but I get the feeling you are the perfect person for him to confide in.” Her eyes met his.

Ah. “I see.”

“It’s just a feeling,” she said. “Little things I’ve noticed, things I’ve picked up on… But… something tells me there’s more to it than him not wanting to tell his mom he’s gay, or bi, or whatever. We’ve always been able to talk about everything. So whatever is going on, it’s more than his realizations about his sexuality. I could be wrong, of course.”

“Maybe it’s something about moms. Some vibe they pick up on. Mom knew about me, after all. I think Chris was more shocked than she was.”

Jess laughed. “Oh my God. I remember.”

“You were fourteen and you didn’t even bat an eye. He was twenty-one and stared at me as if I’d grown a second head. I think the first words out of his mouth were, ‘But you can’t be gay. You play football.’”

They laughed.

Marcus took her hand. “I’m sorry I can’t tell you more. I guess the truth is, I don’t want you to see what I became. I’m scared you’ll look at me and see me as someone else.” Christ, he was shaking.

Jess gaped at him. “Marcus, if you came to me and told me you’d just murdered someone, I’d go get a shovel.” Her lips twitched, and then they were both laughing. “Love you, okay?”

“Love you too.”

Jess’s eyes sparkled. “So… any hot guys staying in Cape Porpoise this summer? Is there the prospect of a little summer fling?”

“I wouldn’t know. I’m not looking.” It wasn’t a lie. He hadn’t been looking when Seb had struck up a conversation at the store. But Seb definitely came under the heading of hot guys,

“Well, you should. Just because I’m not getting any, doesn’t mean you can’t. That way, I get to live vicariously through you.” She grinned. “And you know what? I’m going to take my big brother out for lunch. Someplace where we can see the ocean while we eat.”

“I’d like that.”

Her eyes were warm. “Thank you. You could’ve told me to butt out, but you didn’t. And if anyone asks too many questions while they’re staying here, I’ll tell them to butt out. I’ve got your back.”

The first thought to cross his mind was a question.

Would she feel that way if she knew the truth?