Get What You Need (29 page)

“And I think science is interesting!” Greg looked like he was ready to throw his hands up in the air. “We all gravitate toward what we like, and we make it happen because we care. And one thing isn’t better than another, and if you put down the stuff you do one more time, I’m going to…”

“What?”

Greg drummed two fingers against his lips and shook his head. “I can’t decide. Kiss you or hit you.”

“I know which one I’d prefer.”

“I know which one I would, too.”

“Look,” Marsh started after a couple of beats. And why was he trying to convince Greg he wasn’t good enough, or wasn’t smart enough? Why, when all he wanted was to be that good. That smart.

To be someone Greg could love.

But Greg was rounding on him now, striding closer again, though he stopped when there were still a few feet between them. He lifted a hand but let it fall to his side before it could connect. They hadn’t touched since dinner. Greg flexed his fingers then curled them up into his palms.

“What did you mean?” he asked. “Before. At dinner.”

“About?”

“About not knowing what you were doing after college? Or even next semester.”

Oh, hell. Marsh had said that, hadn’t he? He dragged a hand over his face. “It’s a long story.”

“And all we have to do tonight is talk.”

“Look, it’s…” Only he didn’t know what it was.

Finally, Greg bit the bullet, shattering the space between them to run careful fingertips over Marsh’s knuckles. The warmth of it burned through Marsh’s skin. “What’s going on? I mean, I knew I’d have to worry about what you’d do next year. If you’d want to go home, or go to school or travel or get a job. Somewhere else. But next semester?”

And Marsh…couldn’t do this. Greg was laying all these expectations on his shoulders, and the weight of them all was suddenly too much. A dam cracked inside him, and he gave up, retreating over to his bed where he perched on the edge and dropped his head into his hands. “I’m broke.” Why was that so hard to admit?

“Broke?”

“Like, I don’t have any money. At all. Thank God my folks gave me what I needed for this semester in advance, or I’d be gone already. I think I have enough left for rent through December, but that’s it.”

“What—”

Finally, Marsh lifted his gaze. Looked right into Greg’s wide eyes as he spat out, “My dad found out I was a fag this summer.” He sucked in a deep breath and tasted bile. “He saw me with a guy. I wasn’t careful, and he doesn’t give a shit that I’m bi or whatever. He didn’t think I was good enough for college, and he just, just stopped paying the bill. Didn’t even say anything. And now I’m screwed.”

“But the baseball scholarship…”

Marsh shook his head. “It’s only partial, and it doesn’t touch living expenses.”

“But are there loans, or—”

“Right.” Marsh swiped at his nose and he chuckled darkly, shoulders racking. “I mean, sure. I talked to the financial aid people, and I have options, but what’s the point? I might just fail out anyway.”

“In your last semester?”

“I’ve been on academic probation half the time I’ve been here. I fail anything and I won’t graduate. And even if I do?” Marsh looked up at Greg. He was still standing right where Marsh had left him, near the wall, and his eyes were
huge
. Marsh’s voice cracked again. “What the fuck am I going to do with a history degree? I can’t sit in an office, and there’s no way I could swing grad school. I might as well give up now.” He sniffed and rubbed his eye. “Go get a job. My dad says factory work is stable, you know? Live somewhere cheap. Find some roommates.”

“Your dad is an asshole.”

“No shit—”

“Is he the one who keeps telling you you’re not good enough for any of this?”

Marsh snorted. “Not like anyone really needed to tell me.”

“Have you even talked to him? Since the money stopped coming?”

“No point, is there?”

“Jesus Christ.” And yeah, that was a tone Marsh recognized. Exasperation. He knew that sound really well. “There are a lot of things I pegged you for, but never once did I think you were a quitter.”

“I’m not.” Marsh shrugged, and sure, he was a giant hypocrite, but whatever. “It’s just stupid. Won’t change anything.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” Greg muttered, and he turned away.

And it was just so instinctive. Marsh was braced, waiting for Greg to go. Maybe Greg had finally figured it out. It would be better if he had, really. Because he would, eventually, and Marsh didn’t know how he was going to handle it when he did if this went on for too much longer.

But then Greg was
right there
, on his knees next to the bed, and his hands were on Marsh’s shoulders. He gave Marsh one good shake, then waited until Marsh looked up and met his gaze. As Marsh tried to pull free, Greg let go, but he didn’t give up any ground.

“You know,” Greg said, voice gritty and harsh. “Ronnie asked me where you were today, before the session started. And I looked at him like he was crazy.”

It took Marsh a second to catch up, because that was a wicked curveball as changes in topics went. But he caught up fast enough.

Right. Greg hadn’t invited Marsh to his symposium, because Marsh didn’t belong there. Of course Greg would be confused when he showed up. He closed his eyes.

“Marsh.” Greg’s voice was quieter now, and his fingertips brushed against Marsh’s cheek, so light it hurt, so soft Marsh wanted nothing more than to turn into them and soak in that contact while he could. “Marsh, it never occurred to me to ask you because never, in a million years, did I imagine you’d want to be there.”

“Of course I wanted to. You were there.”

But Greg kept on going, vehement and intense. “Not because you weren’t smart enough, or any of the, frankly,
bullshit
excuses you just spewed. I didn’t even think to invite you, because…because it was boring.
I’m
boring.” Greg’s voice was just aching, something Marsh couldn’t name buried there in those words. “The talk I was giving was nerdy and geeky, and why would you— You’re cool and you’re popular and you’re on the fucking baseball team. People throw themselves at you. Why would you want to come listen to some
nerd
ramble on about engineering?”

“Because—” Marsh had to jerk his mouth shut, because those weren’t safe words that wanted to come out of his mouth. They were too big, though, growing to fill his lungs, and he stared at Greg’s lips. He stared and he wanted, and he couldn’t keep it in. Quavering, barely more than a whisper, he confessed, “Because I love you.”

Absolute silence, and Marsh was dangling, but then Greg threw his arms around Marsh’s neck and reeled him in. He jammed his face against Marsh’s, breath hot against his neck.

Greg spoke right into his ear, fierce and too loud, “And that’s why I never even thought to imagine you were anything less than brilliant, and cool and amazing.” He cut off, the bobbing of his throat a pressure against Marsh’s own. He scrambled back, holding Marsh’s head in his hands, and yes. That was the expression Marsh coveted and treasured and hoarded for his own. That openness and easiness, like Greg was his. Greg’s mouth looked like it was set to crack wide open as he said, “Because I love you.”

There wasn’t enough air in the room.

The words
I love you
echoed in Marsh’s brain, and all at once, everything felt like it snapped into place. Marsh couldn’t get hold of Greg fast enough, searching for purchase with hands that needed skin, and he needed the taste of Greg’s mouth like nothing else. When he finally got him close enough to kiss, it was a clashing thing, teeth hitting, and then Greg tipped his head, and Marsh parted his lips, and it was perfect. Too perfect. He pressed forward with his tongue and got Greg’s shirt untucked so he could place hot palms to bare skin and dig his fingers in.

But Greg was tearing away, still grasping Marsh’s face between his hands. “And if you ever,
ever
say anything that mean and untrue about the guy I love to me again, I’ll…”

“What?” Marsh croaked. He couldn’t stop smiling.

Greg’s eyes went even softer. “Not like I can hit you now. Guess I’ll have to kiss you until you believe me.”

The bubble of feeling inside Marsh’s chest felt ready to explode, because this was too much. This was everything he’d wanted but would never have expected. “I don’t know.” He sniffed, the corner of his lips twitching. “Might take a lot of kissing.”

“I’m a very patient man.”

And he was. He’d shown that plenty of times, and he showed it now, tumbling them into a kiss that was achingly slow. Deep and powerful, and so wet and raw Marsh felt it in his toes.

“We’re not done talking about this,” Greg said against his lips, but his fingers were working at the buttons of Marsh’s shirt.

“Uh-huh, but we’re going to talk about it after we get you inside me, right?”

Marsh had never said “I love you” to another person and meant it, not like this. He was pretty sure that was supposed to lead to sex. He hadn’t gotten Greg naked in days. Fuck, he hoped that led to sex.

But Greg stiffened, hand stilling, and Marsh could cry.

“Actually,” Greg said, and Marsh braced himself, ready to pull away. Then Greg lifted his gaze and met Marsh’s eyes. “I was thinking.” The shadow of his Adam’s apple shifted as his throat bobbed. He took Marsh’s hand in his, lifted it from his shoulder and set it firmly on his ass, fingers dangerously close to the crease. “If you want. I’d like.”

Fuck. Oh, fuck, no way.

Marsh had no problem bottoming—he wasn’t that guy or anything. He liked it. Loved it, even, when it was Greg on top. But he’d been thinking about getting up inside Greg for so long now, feeling that tightness all around him, being able to rear back and look Greg in the eyes as he pushed into him.

“Yeah?” Marsh asked, throat dry. He dared to edge his hand lower, fingertips drifting over Greg’s hole through his pants.

Greg sucked in a breath and brushed his lips against Marsh’s, eyes fluttering closed. When they opened again they were dark and hot.

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Will you?” Another dry swallow before he seemed to find his nerve. “Will you fuck me?”

Chapter Twenty-One

Greg’s skin felt hypersensitive, every inch of him aware and waiting. He was starved for oxygen and starved for touch and
starving
for a chance to let go.

Time and time again—not just tonight, not even just these past couple of days but the whole time they’d been doing this, Marsh had been putting himself out there. He’d made himself vulnerable. He’d asked for what he wanted and given so much more, and Greg had been holding everything back, too terrified to leave himself open like that.

He’d been so caught up in looking confident and powerful, because he’d felt anything but. Meanwhile, he’d left Marsh floundering, as uncertain as Greg had been.

He’d been such a fool.

The seconds passed, one after another as he knelt between Marsh’s legs, finally asking for what he’d wanted all along. To let go and let someone else take him and possess him. To be vulnerable. Marsh stared at him, eyes wide with lust, grip barely on the right side of too tight. And Greg just blinked in return, scarcely breathing, waiting.

When Marsh’s answer came it was a bitten-off groan, and for a moment Greg floundered, but then Marsh was reeling him in, lifting him and turning him, pushing him down until he was on his back on the bed. Marsh climbed over him, and yes. Yes, this was what he’d wanted, what he’d
needed
. How could he have pretended anything else? How could he have not let Marsh see the desperate parts, the ones just aching to be torn apart and pushed open and used?

All the air left Greg’s body, and his bones turned to water as he spread his legs for it, pulling Marsh down into the cradle of his thighs. Marsh came willingly enough, mouth bruising against Greg’s. He tugged at Greg’s tie, and maybe one day he’d wrap the strip of fabric around Greg’s wrists, tie him to his bedpost and take what he wanted. Someday. For now, the tie hit the floor, and Marsh tore at buttons even as Greg yanked Marsh’s shirt from his waistband and wrestled with his belt. Greg paused just long enough to let Marsh push his dress shirt off his shoulders and shove his undershirt off. Sitting up straight, Marsh pulled at his own shirt while Greg got his pants open.

Then when Marsh dove at Greg it was all skin on skin and the brush of Marsh’s chest against his nipples, coarse hair dragging, and it felt too good. Greg arched into it, and Marsh ground his hips down. Electricity sizzled at the press of Marsh’s erection against him. Groaning, searching for Marsh’s mouth, Greg pulled hard, digging his nails in to the meat of Marsh’s back.

Marsh grabbed his wrists in a lunge, pinning them against his pillow to either side of his head, and oh God. “Yeah,” Greg said, half groan and half breath and all of it melting.

Marsh bent to bite down hard on the side of Greg’s throat, and Greg swallowed a scream. Breathing hot against Greg’s ear, Marsh asked, “You know how long I’ve wanted you like this?”

“As long as I’ve wanted you to do it?” Greg asked, panting.

Swallowing a string of curses, Marsh attacked Greg’s mouth again, nipping and sucking, and his tongue fucked forward the way Greg wanted him to with his cock. He struggled against Marsh’s grip, swelling harder when he refused to let go.