Page 55 of Love Language

He wasn’t sure how to ask for what he wanted. And he wasn’t quite ready to admit his feelings. But he drifted peacefully in the idea that Marco would figure it out for both of them.

Chapter 11 Marco

January

Marco gave a little dance step as he straightened his tie. He actually loved salsa dancing, even though he couldn’t hear the music, because the rhythm was so compelling. He did a few little moves across his bedroom.

He was wearing dark jeans and a navy-blue shirt, and he liked the flash of color that the shimmery tie added. It reminded him of fish scales, iridescent with a faint rainbow.

He thought for a moment and added a splash of eyeshadow and a touch of lip gloss. Nothing over the top, but enough that he thought Greg would appreciate it.

It was a Friday night, and they were going, of all places, to the zoo. Apparently, there was some sort of winter light display and Greg had thought that it would appeal to his aesthetic interests.

Which was just… sweet.

Something had changed in Greg since that day in November. Marco couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he liked the change.

They’d slowly done away with their every-Thursday-plus-weekends-on-special-occasions schedule and saw each other all the time now.

Greg would text him and say, “I’m making tacos” or “have you ever gone skiing?” or “I had a long day,” and Marco would go wherever he wanted.

They hadn’t put any words on it like boyfriend or even exclusive, though he was sure that Greg wasn’t seeing anybody else, and he certainly had no desire to.

But he kept a toothbrush in Greg’s bathroom and a few changes of clothes in a duffle bag that stayed in the living room at Greg’s house. It wasn’t quite the same as a shelf in Greg’s dresser or a hanger in his closet, but it was a little bit more permanent. The beginnings of an agreement.

He also had a key, which was secretly one of his prized possessions. Greg had gotten home late once, confused about what time they were meeting, and gone into fits of apology over Marco waiting for him in the cold. Even though he’d been sitting in his car with the heat running.

He’d hastily thrust a key into his hands, lest it happen again, and now Marco had a key to Greg’s house on his keychain.

Naturally, he’d given his apartment key to Greg in exchange, “just in case,” and he liked knowing it was there. Even though neither of them had needed to use them yet.

Sometimes he felt like a lovesick teenager instead of an experienced Dom, but he tried to embrace the sappy. Daddies were allowed. Even if Greg might never call him that.

The biggest change wasn’t their schedules, though, or the deodorant he kept in Greg’s medicine cabinet.

Greg seemed lighter these days. More relaxed. When he thought about Richard, and Marco always noticed when he did, it was a nostalgic sorrow rather than a haunting one.

He suspected that Greg was healing.

Selfishly, he hoped that Greg might soon be ready for him. He still didn’t want to push, and he was happy with their journey, happy with the way things were going, but he couldn’t keep himself from envisioning more.

He wanted Greg to be happy, and he wanted to be the one to make Greg happy.

And more and more often, Greg was happy, at least as far as he could tell. And he considered himself to be a bit of an expert on the subject.

Marco felt satisfied with his appearance, so he checked again that he had everything he needed for the weekend.

That was another thing that had him dancing to a rhythm that was all in his head.

This weekend Greg had agreed to try sounding.

Marco had been dying to try it with someone for years, and the intimacy of sharing it with Greg would be profound.

He’d ordered all the supplies, double-checking recommendations and purchasing only surgical-grade materials. He’d seen a few live demos years ago, but he’d read up recently to make sure he got everything right.

This weekend was going to be amazing.

Only, when he reached Greg’s house, everything wasn’t amazing.