Platonic (36 page)

Daniel laughs and moves away into the bedroom to pull his own suit from its bag and start undressing. “I never said it was one of mine,” he says.

Staring at him for too long, watching the pull of pale skin over muscles and bones he feels entirely familiar with by now, Mark eventually says, “You sent me the sketches for it last year.”

***

It’s a gallery opening, Daniel reveals in the cab. It’s nothing special, but he thinks some important people will be there and, more than that, he thinks Mark will enjoy it.

“Why are you so excited?” Mark asks as the lights of London flash past them. “I mean, I am too, but why is this—”

Daniel cuts him off. “Because when we’re back in New York I’m going to want to take you out to these things all the time, but for now this is kind of the first time we’ve ever…”

“Oh.” It’s strange, but he’s right. This is a work event and Mark is going as Daniel’s date.

When they arrive, they find a door list and paparazzi and the usual crowd of onlookers pulled in by anything bright and shiny. Daniel slips through the door with Mark on his arm, mostly unnoticed, and fetches them both champagne.

“Whose work are we looking at, exactly?” Mark mumbles close to Daniel’s ear as they wander the wide-open white space with its splashes of art set against the walls.

Daniel shrugs and rattles off the artist’s name, inspiration and medium like they don’t matter, and leads Mark across the floor to meet the people Daniel works with. After that Britain’s latest starlet, stunning with big red hair and sparkling blue eyes, links arms between them, gossiping and telling Daniel she loves everything he does before being dragged away by someone else.

So the night goes, with Daniel meeting people he knows and people he doesn’t, hearing people gush about his work and being given quite the cold appraisal a couple of times. He wears Mark on his arm the whole night, keeping him close and always with a drink in his hand. More than once, he drags him off to look at one of the paintings in the corner just so he can whisper in his ear about nothing important and laugh.

Mark giggles into his neck during the cab ride home. He makes jokes about retiring to be Daniel’s happy househusband and a fine specimen of arm candy and Daniel giggles along with him—until they’re alone, and Daniel finds strawberries in the fridge and spends an hour and a half telling Mark how amazing he is and feeding him. Daniel tells him how proud he is of Mark and all the things he does at the D.A.’s office. Mark nods along and they fall asleep on the couch.

***

On Friday they argue. It’s completely trivial, and when they think about it later, it simply boils down to it being Friday. It’s the end of the week, and while Daniel would usually have had five or six hours’ sleep a night, with Mark here he has been lucky to get four. For Mark, it’s the Friday before he goes home on Monday and he really, really doesn’t want to.

Mark cooks, as usual. He searches London all morning for the closest thing he can find to New York cheesecake and fresh raspberries. He meets Patrick again and lets himself get excited to talk about cooking duck for dinner and surprising Daniel one more time before he goes home. They go to Chinatown together on Patrick’s lunch hour and shop, and then it’s a quick kiss on the cheek and Patrick is outrageous enough to slap Mark on the ass and say, “Go get ‘em, tiger,” as Mark runs to catch his bus.

He checks twice with Daniel to make sure he’ll be home by seven-thirty before he starts cooking. He waits until seven forty-five before he sends a text and pulls the duck from the oven. He waits until eight before he starts to worry, stare at his phone and slice up the duck for the fridge so it can be reheated… whenever.

He gets a text from Daniel at eight-thirty.

Was stuck on a dress. Home soon.

Mark bristles, and all of his worry shifts easily to anger as he shoves the duck in the fridge, knowing full well it’ll make the cheesecake smell, and sits and waits.

Daniel breezes in just before nine with more bags than he usually carries clutched in both hands. He dumps them on the floor just inside the door and calls to Mark, but Mark doesn’t answer.

Daniel calls to Mark again, and this time his voice comes from the bedroom. Mark grits his teeth and propels himself from the sofa. He finds Daniel beside the bed, hanging up his vest and humming. When he catches Mark’s furrowed brow and the scowl on his face, Daniel’s expression shifts to confusion.

Before he has even has a chance to ask, Mark is saying, “You should have called.”

“What?”

“When you knew you were going to be late,” Mark says, arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe and watching Daniel undress. “You should have called me. Or sent a text.”

“Oh, you know I never have any idea when I’m going to get off work,” Daniel says, waving it away and stripping down to his underwear and socks.

“I cooked,” Mark chokes out.

Daniel knows something is wrong, but he obviously has no idea what. “You’ve cooked every night,” he says. Which is true; what he means is, Mark has never minded Daniel’s schedule before.

“You said seven-thirty and then you didn’t answer my calls—”

“Mark, I’m sorry,” Daniel has stopped what he’s doing and is watching Mark with cautious eyes. “I didn’t realize…”

Mark shrugs, still mad, and mutters, “Whatever.” Then he shakes his head and storms out of the room.

He gets stuck standing in the kitchen. The dinner ingredients are put away and the countertops are clean and this makes him angrier, so he grabs his coat and storms out the front door, slamming it behind him and enjoying the idea that Daniel will finally realize just how pissed off he is.

He goes down to the street, wraps his coat around himself more tightly and ignores the light patter of rain. He heads off in the direction of Daniel’s usual coffee shop even though he didn’t think to grab any money.

A message comes through on his phone and he counts slowly to sixty before he reads it. By then there’s another.

Come home. I’m sorry.

I forget sometimes to communicate well with you. I’m so used to scheduled emails and us not really having any crossover. I can see I fucked up and I should have called. I’ll get better at that. Come home.

Mark wonders if Daniel has found the duck yet, the probably-spoiled cheesecake. He crosses the road and heads into one of the parks. The anger drips away from him as fast as the rain and trying to hang onto it is futile.

He resists the urge to send Daniel a message straight back and admit this is just a stupid fight for all of five minutes.

I need some space. I’ll be back soon.

He walks for another half an hour, until the rain starts to soak through to his skin. Then he realizes he’s only a block from Daniel’s apartment, sighs heavily and heads back.

He knows the code to get in and has the key to Daniel’s door, so it’s easy to slip in unannounced. Daniel is sitting at the kitchen counter with a slice of cheesecake in front of him and a bowl of raspberries. He hasn’t touched the cheesecake, but his lips are stained red.

He starts when he sees Mark, begins to move and then stops.

“Are you angry at me?” Mark asks.

That makes Daniel pause. “No, I thought you were angry at me.”

Mark laughs, bitter and embarrassed, under his breath. “Yeah.” His cheeks feel hot and he rakes a hand through his hair. “Then I remembered I’ve only got you for another two days and I figured being angry at you was pretty dumb.”

“I put the cheesecake in a container,” Daniel says. “I’m sorry I ruined this. I’ll tell you next time I’m running late.”

“You didn’t ruin it,” Mark says. “I’ll drop better hints next time I have something special planned.”

Daniel’s face softens immediately and he slips off his stool and across to Mark. “Really, I’m sorry I didn’t call,” he says, hands lying flat across Mark’s cheeks. “I’m so used to living on my own; it just didn’t occur to me.”

Mark nods, nuzzling his face into Daniel’s palm and kissing there. “I’m sorry I stormed out.”

“We’re even then,” Daniel offers, and Mark nods.

They kiss so softly, standing there in the middle of Daniel’s apartment, mouths pressing and sliding in wet, warm pressure as their hands trace slowly up and down each other’s bodies, tugging at hair and pulling at hips. Daniel steps back only to duck forward and kiss Mark again and again, teasing with his mouth and his breath, his fingers tickling at the nape of Mark’s neck. He tastes like raspberries.

He waits until Mark is smiling, and then brushes his fingertips feather-light up Mark’s sides and makes him laugh outright.

“I hear duck is pretty good in the microwave,” Daniel says. “And then you can try to teach me how to make that raspberry sauce.”

Marks sighs, letting the tension leave his body, and after a few blinks he smiles and accepts the fight for what it was. “Yeah,” he mumbles, and ten minutes later it is forgotten.

***

The next day is Saturday and Daniel has resolutely decided it is a no-work weekend. They make it out of bed before noon and the sun is out with just enough early spring warmth to make the day pleasant. Mark takes Daniel on his favorite walks from earlier in the week, holding his hand and showing him all his favorite seats in the park and along the banks of the Thames. They meet Patrick for drinks and later two of the young designers Daniel works with for coffee.

In the evening, they see a show that proves forgettable; but they enjoy holding hands and knocking knees throughout the performance anyway.

On Sunday, they take another day just for them. They sleep in, go for a long jog together even though Daniel struggles to keep up, and then take a shower together. They have lunch somewhere expensive and catch a matinee and then go out for dinner even though they’re not that hungry. They get home as early as they dare and eat leftover cheesecake. Mark laments the state of his belly and knows Daniel is lying when he assures him that it’s as trim and tight as ever. They fall into bed before ten and try to pace themselves, taking it slow, begging each other to wait and hold on, to be patient. They kiss to cool off and rut against each other when they forget that’s just as dangerous as anything.

Daniel rolls off of Mark and to the side and laughs giddily at the ceiling before taking a deep breath and covering him again. They kiss and kiss and kiss until they’re drowning and Mark’s laughing and saying, “It’s only six weeks,” and making Daniel laugh with him.

“How close are you?” Daniel asks.

“Not at all,” Mark mumbles, the lie so obvious when Daniel wraps his fingers around Mark’s cock and strokes that Mark cries out and begs Daniel to stop.

“Wanna switch?” Daniel asks, eyes bright, as he raises himself up, straddles Mark’s stomach and pinches at one of his nipples.

Mark has to swallow twice to answer. “Like the first time?”

Daniel nods.

“I… I don’t know if I’ll last that long,” Mark tells him.

“I’ll make you,” Daniel promises and then slips down his body. “Just tell me when you’re close.”

Daniel licks him most of the way open and that alone is dangerous, probing with fingers and tongue while Mark pulls his own legs wide and babbles, arching into the sheets as he tells Daniel it’s too much. Daniel rises up on his knees over Mark and fingers himself open, making Mark watch, rocking out of reach every time Mark begs to be allowed to help.

“Definitely won’t last if you touch me,” Daniel mutters, lids fluttering.

When Daniel sinks down over Mark’s cock, taking him in inch by agonizing inch, it all feels so familiar. Daniel closes his eyes and rocks and Mark’s hips snap up immediately.

“You shouldn’t have teased me,” Mark tells him, hinting at how close he is now. Then he gathers Daniel up in his arms and rolls them, sliding deeper into Daniel’s ass and then raising up to fuck him properly.

The breathy whimpers and the angle of Daniel’s neck are enough to make Mark’s balls tighten and his stomach twist hotly. His whole body sweats and shivers, fucking tight and hot, his lips working marks onto Daniel’s chest as he mumbles and moans. “God, you’re perfect. Thank you for being mine. I’m gonna come. Fuck, Daniel,
 please
, Daniel, 
fuck.
” He spills deep, calling Daniel’s name over and over and fucking him hard until he’s too oversensitive to continue.

“Fuck, I love you,” he says against the sweaty skin of Daniel’s chest, and then Daniel clenches around him and spills between them with a moan.

Mark laughs at him once they can breathe and move again. “I thought we were gonna switch?” he teases.

Daniel’s exhausted, though, spent and happily humming. He makes a half-thought out remark about waking Mark up early, and then he snuggles into the gross sticky mess they’re in and almost immediately falls asleep. Mark watches him for a few short minutes and then joins him.

***

Contrary to Daniel’s promise, he is still asleep when Mark wakes up. He’s face down on the bed, splayed out and drooling just a little onto his forearm. Mark watches him as long as he dares, touching himself and then stretching and lubing up his hole. He slides over Daniel to press himself heavily against his back. He slips his arms around Daniel’s waist and presses his lips to the back of his shoulder and up his neck to whisper in his ear. “I can’t wait to wake up like this every day.” It’s loud enough to draw Daniel from sleep and make him mumble happily. He arches against Mark a second later as Mark’s hand strokes roughly up Daniel’s cock, already half hard with morning and the friction of the sheets. He’s turned on just because Mark is there.

Mark gets a hand down Daniel’s body and tightly around his cock, stroking him roughly to get him to full hardness.

Daniel murmurs, “Jesus,” and then arches into the touch again.

“You promised you’d fuck me as a goodbye,” Mark tells him.

“Never goodbye,” Daniel says back, twisting in Mark’s arms and kissing him hard.

Daniel groans when his fingers find Mark’s hole, already swollen and lose enough for Daniel to slip a finger into. It takes him scant seconds to find the coordination to take the lube from Mark’s hands, slick his own cock and twist them around so he’s spooning Mark from behind.