"Fuck." I held him in place by his silky hair and stepped on his cock; and he didn't flinch, no. He just let out a low whine so saturated lust and sex, squirmed on his knees, all of it so fucked and hot that I could have moaned myself at the mere sight of him. Drooling, eyes fluttering shut as he practically gagged himself on my dick. He rocked his hips, like he was just seeking any friction, anything to alleviate the pretty problem between his thighs. I let up, pulled my foot off him and he nearly cried. Not so fast, Marcus.

Funny how Marcus had a knack at forcing me to be honest with myself. Guess I was finally being honest about my sexuality now, too.

I drug him over to the wall and shoved the back of his head against it, slammed my cock down his throat. He gagged, retched, tears poured from his eyes, and he was fucking hard. Guess he wasn't lying when he said he liked it rough, and fuck, I wasn't gonna last much longer. That was fine; Drew was waiting, wasn't he? I'm the worst dad in the world.

"You're so fucking pretty," I cursed under my breath, "such a pretty little bitch..."

His brown eyes locked on mine, and they smirked, he groaned around my cock and wrapped his arms around my thighs, forced himself to swallow my cock whole. Fuck. It was a blur after that; I fisted his hair in my hands, humped his face until I exploded. The sounds he made, the way he looked at me, the tears, fuck—all illuminated by a single ray of light shining through one of the small thermal windows. Marcus Anderson had no business looking so beautiful with drool and cum running down his chin, eyes red and running with tears; no fucking business at all.

I cursed, dropped my head against the wall and caught my breath, watched with sick fascination as he continued to moan, lick, gently suck, caress my cock as it went soft in his mouth. This was bad, so, so bad. But doing bad things with Marcus felt good, and I was far too selfish apparently to say no to the pretty bitch on his knees worshipping my cock, while his own remained hard as fuck.

"Get up," I murmured, dragging him to his feet by his fair hair. He just chuckled wickedly and gave me a filthy, wholly satiated smirk. His lips were swollen and red from the way I'd used him, his eyes pink and watery, but he seemed to revel in it. Marcus panted, caught his breath, and I pressed his body flush to the wall, slipped my hand between his legs and cursed; fuck, he was so hard, and bigger than I'd have guessed.

"Aw, Daddy's gonna do me now? What a gentleman." He whispered, kissing and nipping at the crook of my neck.

"Shut the fuck up," I growled, pulled him back so I could slam my mouth into his. He moaned into the kiss, opened his lips to let me take him, and so for the first time in years I made out with someone, with him, and like horny fucking teenagers after school, we did it in secret. Hiding away from prying eyes... our shame had to remain buried.

It's wrong, so fucking wrong, but I can't stop; someone please sedate me. Fuck.

I stroked him through his little lacy undies; I'd never seen a man in women's panties before in real life, but fuck, it was hot as hell. It almost made me angry; angry that he fucking wore this shit around me, that he knew what it'd do to me. "You just had to fucking wear these, didn't you?" I hissed, kissed his jawline, savored the soft skin of his neck against my lips.

Marcus chuckled like the naughty little fuck he was and rolled his hips to hump himself on my hand. "Maybe I knew you'd need me today," he gasped, dropping his forehead into my chest as I worked his cock, his words melded into a soft, breathy whimper as I gave his balls a painful squeeze.

"... sick little bitch," I growled.

"Right back at ya, old man."

Marcus smiled and gasped, his pretty doe-eyes fluttering shut, hips bucking erratically, cock straining in those cursed panties while his pleasure surged. He was nearly there; time to drag him over the edge, take him to hell with me.

I wrapped my hand around his throat and kissed him hard, squeezing, letting him fuck himself against my hand until he'd burst. I tightened my hold on his pretty neck and squeezed, he whimpered, eyes rolling back in ecstasy. I squeezed harder, a blood choke, he'd be feelin' real light-headed here in a few seconds.

"Fuck, that's it Daddy, don't stop till I tap out." He whimpered, and of course I'd oblige.

Soon his eyes glazed over in pleasure and darkness; his legs shook, cock pulsing in my hand and he erupted, his pleasure now mine. I let go of his neck and hooked my arms around his waist to support his weight as his legs gave out. His head lolled forward into his chest, soft breathy whimpers from his lips, curses, soft groans in the aftermath of his orgasm.

We lingered there, bodies pressed together, his cum all over my hand, and I could only smirk to myself as I considered how Marcus would have to walk around in his sticky little undies after this. He'd made a mess of himself, and he'd have to wear his sin around my son like the sick little fuck he was. We were both fucked in the head for this, both of us complete bastards. It was so fucking wrong, all of it, but it was like he'd cast a spell on me. I couldn't say "no" to Marcus Anderson if my life depended on it... the irony.

"You're fucking perfect for me," he murmured, draped his arms around my shoulders, eyes refocusing on my face as the blood flow returned. "... needed a good choking like that. Shit, you timed it perfectly. Kinky bastard."

I caught my breath and felt myself smirk. He wasn't wrong, I was a freak, but it'd been so long since I'd shared that side of me with another person; too long. It only made me angrier, that that person of all people happened to be Marcus Anderson. This had to be the biggest plot twist, the biggest irony of my pathetic life—that the pretty little freak I'd been searching for, so desperately needed for years now, would be found in my son's best friend. I felt like I'd lost my grip on reality.

"... we're going to hell." I said softly.

"So long as its together," he whispered into my neck. "... now gimme your phone."

I frowned and pulled away, eyeing him as I cleaned my hand off on a nearby shop towel and tucked myself back into my pants. Put myself back together best I could.

"... why?"

He gave me a knowing, impatient look. "So, I can give you my number, idiot. You're gonna need it."

I shook my head and huffed in some disbelief; describing the situation as 'out of control' was now a fucking understatement.

"Need and want are two different things," I sighed. Yet again, I didn't say no, I couldn't. Instead, I simply unlocked it and handed it over like a total traitor. You're a piece of shit, Gideon.

Marcus just raised his brow and just smirked to himself as he added his info to my phone, and all I could think about then was how pretty he looked standing there. He was sweaty, a spent mess, cheeks flushed and warm, lips rosy, cardigan damn near falling off him now. He'd have to clean up before anyone else laid eyes on him if we hoped to keep our sick secret for much longer.

Fuck.

"... so, I'll be seeing you tonight, then?" he said casually.

I scoffed. "Absolutely not."

Marcus' eyes met mine, trailed their way over my body slowly, like he was mentally undressing me. In fact, I'm sure he was. "You know, Gid," he purred, eyes raking their way back upward to meet my gaze. "... I'd always wondered if your tattoos went below your waistline. Turns out I was right. Can't wait to see what you got inked on that tight ass."

My face burned. What the fuck? Forward—Marcus wasn't just forward—he was unabashed. Fuck. The power he held over me was nothing short of impressive.

"Anyway," he checked his nails, and began to adjust himself, smoothing his miniskirt back into place, fixing his little undies. "I'll wait until midnight; if I don't hear from you by then I'll let my fuck buddy Dawson have this hole."

Don't lie to yourself like that, Gid, you know you're gonna call him. It certainly won't do to let Dawson get that ass when it could be yours instead.

"... we'll see about that."

Marcus flipped his hair over his shoulder and started to finger comb it back into place. "Whatever, Gid. Just plan to go a few rounds, I'm in desperate need of a good hate-fucking. Anyway, in the meantime, have fun cleaning your guns, ya suicidal fuck."

I had no response to that statement except to get turned on and, well, I actually kind of laughed. It felt good to laugh for real, even if it was in a situation like this. It'd been so long. 

Marcus' expression warmed; a soft smile tugged at his lips as he observed the effects of his dark humor on me.

"... you have a great laugh." He said quietly. "Hope I hear more of it tonight." And then, he popped up onto his tiptoes to kiss my cheek and left without so much as a look over his shoulder.

Gideon McCullough, you're fucking screwed.