CHAPTER 6

Marcus took the last bite of the sandwich Juliana had lovingly prepared for him. The flavors were simple yet comforting, a testament to his mother’s knack for knowing exactly what he liked. He couldn’t help but smile in satisfaction as he wiped his lips with a napkin. It wasn’t just the taste that brought a sense of warmth to his chest; it was the thought behind the gesture. It was moments like these that reminded him of how much his mother cared for him in the smallest yet most meaningful ways. 

Across the table, Juliana’s gaze lingered on her son, her eyes shimmering with affection and pride. She watched his every move with an expression that only a mother could wear—a mixture of tenderness, curiosity, and quiet joy. Her smile never wavered, as though she found pure delight in simply being present in this small but intimate moment. 

For Marcus, this wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. His mother had always looked at him like this, her eyes full of unspoken love and admiration. Over the years, he had grown used to it, almost to the point where it felt like a natural part of his daily life. Still, deep down, he appreciated it. It was a silent reminder that he was deeply loved and cherished, even if he didn’t always say it aloud.

Juliana’s voice was soft and full of affection as she broke the comfortable silence between them. “Who do you think will be the lucky girl to capture my son’s heart?” she mused, her fingers gently running through his hair in a gesture so natural and comforting.

Her question was lighthearted, but the tenderness in her tone made it clear how much she cared. It wasn’t just idle curiosity; it was the kind of question that only a mother would ask, born out of love and a genuine desire to see her child happy. 

Marcus chuckled at her question, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I told you, Mom. That’s not in my plans yet,” he said, shaking his head with a playful grin. “It’s just an expense, and besides, she’d take up all my time.”

His words were straightforward, but there was an unmistakable warmth in the way he said them. He knew his mother only wanted the best for him, even if he wasn’t quite ready to focus on things like romance. He was far too occupied with other priorities to even entertain the thought. 

Juliana leaned back slightly, her expression thoughtful yet amused. “Yeah, you have a point,” she replied, nodding in agreement. “I’m just curious, that’s all. It just seems impossible that no one is interested in you, my son.”

Her voice held a playful lilt, teasing but kind, and her words carried a subtle admiration for her child. For her, Marcus was everything a mother could hope for—intelligent, kind, and handsome. It wasn’t just curiosity; it was a mother’s pride and love shining through, though she didn’t press him further. She was content to let him go at his own pace, knowing he would figure things out in his own time.

Marcus chuckled softly, his lips curving into a small smile. “There are plenty of them, Mom,” he admitted honestly, the words rolling out with a casual ease.

 He shifted his gaze briefly from his laptop screen to glance at Julianna, catching her watching him with a knowing expression. His mother’s eyes lit up with a sparkle, a mixture of amusement and delight. It wasn’t a secret that she loved moments like these—simple conversations that gave her a glimpse into his life, even if he didn’t divulge too much. 

“See, I knew it,” Julianna replied with a playful lilt to her voice.

Her happiness was clear, radiating through her tone as if his confirmation validated some unspoken theory she’d had all along. She sat back in her chair, looking at him with pride and a touch of curiosity, as though imagining the line of admirers her son might have. It wasn’t just the words but the warmth and motherly joy behind them that filled the room, making the moment feel light and comforting. Still, Marcus couldn’t quite understand why she seemed so invested in the topic. 

“Seriously, Mom? You seem different from other parents, especially mothers,” he said, a note of amusement creeping into his voice.

He raised a brow, his tone tinged with disbelief but not unkind. He wasn’t used to his mother’s curiosity about his personal life, especially when it came to relationships. Yet, despite his light teasing, he appreciated her interest. It reminded him of how close they were, how much she valued every little detail about him. For a moment, he paused his typing, glancing at her again, and saw her smile widen, the corners of her eyes crinkling with unspoken affection. 

“Of course, son. It’s natural,” Julianna said with a gentle smile, her voice filled with both curiosity and concern. “I’m just curious because ever since you started studying, you’ve never told us, not even once, about someone you’re courting or even a crush.” She leaned closer, her expression softening as she studied him carefully. There was a lightness to her tone, but it was also underscored with genuine worry. “It’s not normal, and it makes me worry,” she added, her words quieter now, though still laced with a trace of humor to lighten the moment. 

Marcus leaned back in his chair, laughter spilling out as he shook his head slightly. He knew exactly what his mother was implying, and while he found it funny, he also appreciated her candidness.

“Mom, you’re overthinking it,” he said, his tone playful.

 He could tell that, beneath the teasing, there was a part of her that simply wanted reassurance. It wasn’t often that she voiced concerns about his personal life, and now that she had, he could see how much it had been on her mind. Her words hung in the air, and he realized she was just trying to understand him better. 

“Mom, I’m not gay,” Marcus replied, his voice laced with humor as he let out another laugh. He looked at her, his amusement clear in the way his lips curved into a grin. He saw the way her eyes softened with relief, even as she let out a chuckle of her own. “Seriously, you don’t have to worry about that,” he added with a teasing tone. Juliana shook her head with a small laugh, clearly feeling more at ease now. Her playful yet concerned questioning made him realize just how much she cared—and it was moments like this that reminded him of the special bond they shared.

“Yeah, that’s a relief,” Julianna said with a warm smile, her tone light and teasing, but her eyes full of motherly affection.

She stood up from where she had been sitting, her movements slow and deliberate, as though she was savoring the little moment they shared. Before leaving, she reached out and gently tapped Marcus’s shoulder, a simple yet tender gesture that conveyed her care.

“Alright, I won’t bother you anymore,” she added, her voice soft but firm, as though she was trying to balance giving him space while still ensuring he knew she was always there for him. As she turned toward the door, she glanced back briefly, her maternal instincts kicking in one last time. “Don’t stay up too late; you might have trouble getting up later,” she reminded him, her tone more serious now, emphasizing her concern for his well-being. 

“Thanks, Ma,” Marcus replied, his smile matching the warmth in his mother’s expression.

He nodded, appreciating her concern even though he didn’t always show it. As she walked out of the room, her presence left a comforting trace, the kind only a mother could offer. For a moment, Marcus sat still, gazing at the doorway where she had just been, feeling a small pang of gratitude for her unwavering care. Her simple reminder carried more weight than just a warning about staying up late—it was a reflection of her love and the quiet way she always looked out for him. With a soft exhale, he turned back to his laptop, her parting words lingering in his mind like a gentle reminder of home.

PRESENT DAY

The rhythmic sound of Mario’s breathing pulled Marcus back to the present moment, interrupting the flurry of memories that had clouded his mind. It had been years, but the weight of the pain he carried hadn’t lessened. Time, they said, could heal all wounds, but for Marcus, the loss of the life he once knew was a wound that remained raw and unhealed. The tragedy had stolen the happiness and stability of his family, leaving behind a hollow version of what they once were. He knew, deep down, that no matter how much he hoped or wished, he could never fully reclaim the joy they’d lost. 

“How are you, Dad?” Marcus asked softly, his voice a mix of hope and resignation, even though he already knew there wouldn’t be a response.

The silence was as heavy as ever, and yet he couldn’t stop himself from speaking. Talking to Mario felt like the only way to keep a connection alive, even if it was one-sided. It was his way of showing that he hadn’t given up, that he was still fighting to hold on to whatever thread of hope remained. 

Turning his gaze toward his father, Marcus’s heart clenched at the sight. Mario sat still, his eyes fixed on some invisible point in the distance, lost in a world Marcus couldn’t access. The vacant stare was a stark reminder of everything they’d lost—not just the vibrant man Mario once was, but also the bond they used to share.

It was as though Mario was no longer present in the same reality as Marcus, as if the words Marcus spoke were swallowed by the emptiness surrounding them. The realization hurt more than Marcus cared to admit; it wasn’t just the absence of recognition, but the knowledge of what had led to this state. The pain of the past and the weight of their shared tragedy bore down on him, threatening to overwhelm him with every quiet moment they spent together.

It wasn’t the lack of recognition that pierced Marcus’s heart; it was the deep, undeniable knowledge of what had brought them to this point. Every time he looked at his father, a wave of guilt and sadness washed over him. The emptiness in Mario’s eyes wasn’t just a symptom of his condition; it was a reflection of the pain and burden caused by the events that had torn their family apart.

Marcus knew that those moments in the past—the choices made by the one who did this, the tragedies endured—were what led to his father’s current state. And the fact that he couldn’t turn back time, couldn’t undo the damage, made the pain all the more unbearable. 

“I’ll stay here,” Marcus said softly, his voice steady as he glanced at Mario once more.

 Though he knew his father might not fully comprehend his words, he felt a sense of duty to remain by his side. Marcus believed that even in the silence, there was a connection, however faint, that reminded his father he wasn’t alone. Staying wasn’t just about physical presence; it was Marcus’s way of atoning for the past and holding on to the hope that one day, something—anything—might spark a change in Mario. 

“Alright, let me tell you about Juliana,” Mario said unexpectedly.

His voice was calm, almost detached, as his gaze stayed fixed on some distant point in the room. Marcus’s breath caught at the mention of Juliana’s name. It had been so long since he’d heard his father speak about her. For a moment, his heart raced, hopeful that Mario might truly engage with him this time. But as the silence stretched on, Marcus realized there would be no story, no words to follow. Mario remained locked in his world, unreachable despite the flicker of connection. Still, Marcus held on, cherishing even the smallest glimpse of the father he once knew, and promising himself that he wouldn’t stop trying.

“Yes,” Marcus replied softly, his voice barely above a whisper. His words carried a fragile hope, though deep down, he wasn’t expecting much. 

He waited, hoping Mario would speak, would share even a fragment of the memories they once had. But no words came. Mario remained silent, his eyes still staring into the void as if the past had consumed him entirely. Marcus sighed quietly, resigning himself to the reality that silence was all his father could offer. It wasn’t the first time they had sat together like this, exchanging nothing but quiet. And yet, Marcus found solace in these moments. Even without words, he felt a connection—a reminder that he still had his father, however distant he seemed. As he had told Daniel earlier, hope was the one thing he refused to lose. 

Marcus knew, though, that things would never be the same again. The life he had known was gone, irretrievably changed by events that had stolen joy and replaced it with pain. Still, he clung to what little remained, even if it meant making do with fragments of a once-whole family. The pain of it all lingered, sharp and unyielding, and even after all these years, he struggled to accept it. He couldn’t quite make peace with the idea that this was now his reality. But wasn’t that how fate worked sometimes? Cruel and unrelenting, it had dealt him a blow that left him reeling. The memory of what they’d lost filled him with anger, bitterness, and an aching sense of injustice that never fully faded, no matter how much time passed.

He was trying to let go of all the pain, anger, and bitterness that had taken root in his heart. But it wasn’t easy. Even after ten long years, the wounds were still raw in places, and the memories still lingered like ghosts he couldn’t quite exorcise. Marcus was still in the process of moving on, caught in a cycle of acceptance and resistance. He wanted to leave the hurt behind, but the weight of everything he’d lost often pulled him back. Some days were easier than others, but the journey toward healing remained slow and grueling. 

“I’ll come back next week, Dan,” Marcus said, his tone steady as he bid his friend goodbye.

It was both a promise and a routine he had come to depend on. Coming back to check on his father, despite the pain, was his way of holding on to hope. It was his way of showing that no matter how much life had broken him, he wasn’t going to give up entirely—not on his father and not on himself. 

Daniel nodded in understanding. “Yeah. Don’t worry, I’m doing everything—” he started to say, his voice reassuring and filled with quiet determination.

Marcus interrupted him with a small smile, appreciating the sentiment but feeling the need to lighten the mood. After all, Daniel had been there for him through so much, and Marcus didn’t want to burden him further. The bond they shared wasn’t just one of friendship but of a brotherhood forged through shared trials and unwavering support.

“I know,” Marcus said with a smirk, his tone shifting playfully. “But I think you should also go on a date,” he teased, his voice laced with amusement as he tried to inject some levity into the conversation.

It was his way of reminding Daniel not to take life too seriously, even amidst the responsibilities they carried. He had always appreciated how Daniel had been a steady presence in his life, but he also wanted his friend to enjoy himself, to find his own happiness beyond the weight of his work and obligations. 

Daniel chuckled, shaking his head at Marcus’s attempt to turn the tables. “Look who’s talking,” he quipped, raising an eyebrow at his friend.

His laugh was light but filled with genuine warmth, and he gave Marcus a friendly pat on the shoulder. They both knew the irony of Marcus giving that advice—he wasn’t exactly a poster child for romance or emotional attachment. Still, Daniel appreciated the effort, recognizing it as Marcus’s way of caring for him in his own way. 

“You know me, brother,” Marcus replied with a grin, his signature charm shining through as he winked at Daniel.

He climbed into his car, the engine purring to life as he adjusted the rearview mirror. With a final wave and a knowing smile, he pulled out of the driveway and onto the road. As he drove away, the smile lingered on his face, a fleeting moment of lightness in a life often clouded by shadows. For Marcus, the exchange with Daniel wasn’t just about humor—it was a reminder that even in the darkest of times, connection and camaraderie could bring moments of solace.

“OHHH—FUCK!” Marcus groaned, his voice thick with pleasure as he tilted his head back. His tongue flicked teasingly against the tip of Irish’s breast, eliciting a soft gasp from her. She moved with a slow, deliberate sensuality, her body swaying rhythmically atop his. Every movement was calculated, every shift of her hips designed to push them both closer to the edge. 

Irish didn’t respond with words, but the intensity in her gaze spoke volumes. She didn’t need to say anything; her body communicated everything he needed to know. The connection between them was purely physical, a mutual understanding of their roles in each other’s lives. No strings, no commitments, just raw, unfiltered desire that burned brightly whenever they came together. 

To Marcus, Irish was nothing more than a bed partner—a “fuck buddy,” as he bluntly put it in his mind. She was there to satisfy his needs, to fill the void he refused to acknowledge. He wasn’t one for relationships or emotional entanglements. Commitments, in his eyes, were unnecessary complications, something he had no desire to entertain. His life had enough complexity without adding the weight of someone else’s expectations or demands. 

Yet, despite his aversion to emotional ties, Marcus wasn’t one to deny his physical cravings. For the past three months, Irish had been a constant presence in his life. The stunning and confident model, with her captivating beauty and uninhibited passion, was the perfect companion for the kind of arrangement Marcus preferred. She knew the boundaries, understood the rules, and played her part effortlessly. 

In their shared moments, Irish offered him more than just physical satisfaction. She was a temporary escape, a fleeting reprieve from the shadows that loomed over him. Her touch brought warmth to his cold, lonely nights, her laughter echoing softly in the silence of his empty apartment. She didn’t demand more from him, didn’t push for something deeper, and for that, Marcus was grateful. He didn’t need or want anything beyond what they already had. 

Still, as he watched her move with practiced ease, her body perfectly in sync with his, Marcus couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt buried deep within him. She gave him everything—her time, her body, her undivided attention—all for the sole purpose of making him happy. And while he accepted it without hesitation, there was a part of him that wondered how long this arrangement could last. How long could they continue to share this intimate, yet ultimately hollow connection before one of them wanted more? For now, though, he pushed the thought aside, surrendering himself to the fiery passion that Irish ignited within him.

“You feel so good—Marcus! You’re so fucking deep!” she moaned as she began to move faster. 

Marcus gripped her waist but didn’t interfere with her rhythm. It was already late at night, and he was certain she wouldn’t let him leave. And judging by how fervent her movements were, he could tell that her need was even greater than his. He was more than willing to satisfy her. 

The thought ignited a fresh wave of desire within him, an intensity that could no longer be contained. Marcus couldn't wait for Irish to reach her peak, the urgency within him overriding any sense of patience. With a swift, decisive movement, he gently guided her down onto the rumpled bed, her soft laughter a melodic counterpoint to the pounding of his own heart.

"The bed's a mess," she murmured, her voice a breathy whisper against his skin.

A wicked grin spread across Marcus's lips, his eyes gleaming with a primal hunger. "Is that what matters to you, or this?" he countered, his voice a low growl as he drove into her with a forceful, primal thrust. The bed groaned in protest beneath them, a silent witness to the raw passion that consumed them both.

Marcus continued his assault, his eyes unwavering, locked onto hers. He watched, mesmerized, as her eyes rolled back in a blissful ecstasy, her head thrown back in a silent scream. He saw the way her body arched beneath him, the way her breath hitched and caught in her throat, and he knew he had found the sweet spot, the place where pure pleasure resided within her.

"Ohhh..." Irish moaned, her voice a raw, animalistic sound as she clung tightly to his arms, her nails digging into his flesh.

He felt the tremor that ran through her entire body, the way her muscles clenched and released, and he knew he was pushing her to the very edge.

He knew her weakness, the way her body responded to his every move. With a predatory instinct, he began to assault her core with relentless and deep thrusts, each one driving her closer to the precipice. Her cries echoed through the room, a symphony of pleasure and surrender, as he unleashed his passion within her.

Irish moaned, her voice a low, throaty growl, "Ohhh—your cock is like a wood drill again—mmmnnnn—"

Irish's eyes were squeezed shut, her head thrown back in a silent scream as she rode the wave of pleasure that washed over her. Her body arched, a perfect counterpoint to the rhythm of their movements, as she surrendered to the raw, primal force that consumed her. The sensation of him inside her was exquisite, a primal force that seemed to penetrate deep into her very soul, igniting a fire within her that burned with an almost unbearable intensity.

Marcus's arousal surged even higher, a primal hunger driving him forward. He felt the heat radiating from her body, the way her muscles tightened around him, and he knew he was on the verge of losing control. Like a hammer pounding nails, he delivered a series of intense and forceful strokes, each one driving her closer to the edge.

Her cries grew louder, a symphony of pleasure that resonated in his ears like the most beautiful music he had ever heard. He felt the tremor that ran through her body, the way her breath hitched and caught in her throat, and he knew he was on the verge of taking her with him, into the depths of a shared ecstasy.