The Dream 22-b
Dylan remembers the evening in flashes...
Marco in just a towel...
Only a towel separating his eyes...his lips....his hands AND lips, from that skin; his favorite flavour of spicy/sweetness!
Just the color of his skin; that shade of gold/brownish...is turning him on;
'Why's it called olive, Olives are green' Dylan blinks, smiles to himself at the ridiculousness of this thought.
There he goes again; back in 'Marco-Melt'; his name for the state of infatuated giddiness that being with Marco puts him in.
This has often been the cause of him(Dylan) saying and doing things that hadn't even crossed his mind, or changing(we wouldn't say out-right wrecking)more than a few well made plans...
'God, those eyes...'he thinks, and this feeling....like he could just dive in and be completely swallowed-up by the warmth and love there.
Sometimes, he looks into them and can tell Marco is reading everything he's feeling....like it's a story that is written there on his face/in his eyes.
But Dylan doesn't mind, because he can read Marco too.
There had been a time when Dylan had thought his Marco might never really trust him again, but that time is long past now.
Now there is no trace of that slight tightness...something like a permanent wince...that made his heart feel like it was bleeding every time Marco looked at him.
Dylan can remember how hopeful he'd felt when that look had changed to only a little watchfulness and Marco would quickly look away when he saw Dylan notice.
Now that is all over.
The looks he remembers from this evening are mostly so hot; so totally focused...on him,so....demanding(!) most of the time, it's no wonder his poor brain couldn't handle it.
Marco-Melt!
Oh yeah.
That was why he'd just blurted it out like that.
This boy, would he always.....his presence....no more than just that...affect him like this?
He remembers being ordered to lock the door...
The sudden coldness, touching....sliding down his back.
Spinning round.
Marco, a wicked smile stretching his lips, sparkling in his eyes is half-way across the room holding out an open can of beer like someone holding up a cross to ward-off a vampire.
Narrowing his eyes, Dylan lowers his head a little, and rushes over to him; a menacing growl in his throat that was more worthy of the werewolf!
That cocky little smirk never left Marco's face as his big boyfriend grips his waist, lifts him from the floor.
Marco, who never drinks beer, takes a big sip; grabs a handful of Dylan's hair and pulls till he tips his head back...
The thought of this brings Dylan back to Carlos and the rum in his dream/nightmare.
Dreams could be so stupid!
He'd never even liked Carlos that way!
He thought about taking him to his and Jayeson's apartment.
The way Carlos had been muttering disjointedly in his passed-out sleep;
"Ciento..! Yo soy...ciento! Yo tequero Jayeson!" he half shouted."
Dylan didn't know much Spanish, but everybody knows 'tequero' means love.
It gave him a start, knowing he'd said similar things to Marco once, in similar circumstances!
Though he hadn't been living with him; couldn't imagine doing something like that to him if they had been.
There were notes everywhere.
On the door to what Dylan assumed was Jayeson's bedroom: 'If you break in I'll Move Out!'
On the table in kitchen:'Order Out! And Don't LEAVE ME A MESS TO CLEAN UP!'
Bathroom door:If you Puke:Clean It Up!'
On what must be Carlos's bedroom(?)door: 'I WON'T DO THIS ANYMORE!' and below this 'YOU SHIT!'
He was just beginning to feel a little sorry for the usually cocky Carlos when he saw the last one on the back of the front door:'BACK WHEN I GET BACK! p.s.I COULD BE WITH MARCO-HE'S WORTH 10 OF YOU!'
What the..!?!
Time to go.
He wouldn't even think about that....
Nope, didn't even see that!
Except that it would just pop into his brain.....in bright red neon letters!...off and on for the rest of the evening....
"Tequero, mio novio guapo! Tu eres mio.....no Marco!" Carlos mumbled from where he lay on the couch as Dylan closed the door behind himself.
O.k. that didn't help!
'Tu eres mio.' Dylan thought.
He'd heard Carlos say that one so many times....to so many different guys....
One night he'd asked him what it meant;
"It means 'you are mine!'and no, most of the time I don't even really know I'm saying it."Carlos told him.
Dylan had gone outside to get some air that wasn't so mixed with various kinds of smoke.
Carlos had been sitting on the steps with a bottle between his legs, slurring that phrase to someone before pocketing his cell-phone with an amused snicker.
"To the ones who don't speak Spanish, I could say almost anything....and sometimes I have, just for the hell of it you know...?" The smugness in his voice irritated Dylan a little; but if his father hadn't given him one very serious talking to when he first started 'hangin-out', by now he'd probably have been just as.....callous about it.
"The only time I mean THAT is when I say it to mio novio.....Jayeson. It's like you and your Marco. I play, but I like it just fine that Jayeson really doesn't want to !" Here he looked at Dylan and winked.
" No, I don't think we would like that at all would we!?!" Carlos had taken a sip from his bottle of rum then, offered Dylan some.
In his shock at this admission.....this clearly stated understanding of something Dylan wasn't even willing to think about then.... coming from this seemingly so truly wild and completely uninhibited boy, Dylan had taken the bottle and knocked back a long one.
But rum is very good for distracting a person from whats bothering them.
After a while Dylan forgot what had started the two of them sitting here drinking together!
Now it seems Jayeson may finally have had enough......
X
X
X
Most of this was knocked right out of Dylan's mind by the reception he got when he entered his door.
By the time it came back to him, suddenly and without warning; he and Marco had finally made it to the couch.
Marco had managed to stir-up the wild creature that he alone knew lived just below the surface in this gorgeous dream of a boy....again.
The way Marco was looking up at him....the expressions that moved across that beautiful face, while they stared into each others eyes...that they could be....this open to each other.....
No hesitations.....no....fear, none at all!
Dylan's eyes had narrowed a little, and he was leaning down....bringing his face closer....and Marco was curling his body up to meet his lovers moist parted lips....
And it started as a whisper;
"oh, yeah...gotta be!.. " Dylan said so low that if they hadn't been this close Marco wouldn't have known what he'd said.
"Mine!" Dylan said softly but firmly..... "I will marry you!"The last part was spoken against Marco's lips.
By the time Dylan's brain registered what his mouth had said, Marco's mouth, hands...his whole body was answering him.....
Who needed words.
Marco in just a towel...
Only a towel separating his eyes...his lips....his hands AND lips, from that skin; his favorite flavour of spicy/sweetness!
Just the color of his skin; that shade of gold/brownish...is turning him on;
'Why's it called olive, Olives are green' Dylan blinks, smiles to himself at the ridiculousness of this thought.
There he goes again; back in 'Marco-Melt'; his name for the state of infatuated giddiness that being with Marco puts him in.
This has often been the cause of him(Dylan) saying and doing things that hadn't even crossed his mind, or changing(we wouldn't say out-right wrecking)more than a few well made plans...
'God, those eyes...'he thinks, and this feeling....like he could just dive in and be completely swallowed-up by the warmth and love there.
Sometimes, he looks into them and can tell Marco is reading everything he's feeling....like it's a story that is written there on his face/in his eyes.
But Dylan doesn't mind, because he can read Marco too.
There had been a time when Dylan had thought his Marco might never really trust him again, but that time is long past now.
Now there is no trace of that slight tightness...something like a permanent wince...that made his heart feel like it was bleeding every time Marco looked at him.
Dylan can remember how hopeful he'd felt when that look had changed to only a little watchfulness and Marco would quickly look away when he saw Dylan notice.
Now that is all over.
The looks he remembers from this evening are mostly so hot; so totally focused...on him,so....demanding(!) most of the time, it's no wonder his poor brain couldn't handle it.
Marco-Melt!
Oh yeah.
That was why he'd just blurted it out like that.
This boy, would he always.....his presence....no more than just that...affect him like this?
He remembers being ordered to lock the door...
The sudden coldness, touching....sliding down his back.
Spinning round.
Marco, a wicked smile stretching his lips, sparkling in his eyes is half-way across the room holding out an open can of beer like someone holding up a cross to ward-off a vampire.
Narrowing his eyes, Dylan lowers his head a little, and rushes over to him; a menacing growl in his throat that was more worthy of the werewolf!
That cocky little smirk never left Marco's face as his big boyfriend grips his waist, lifts him from the floor.
Marco, who never drinks beer, takes a big sip; grabs a handful of Dylan's hair and pulls till he tips his head back...
The thought of this brings Dylan back to Carlos and the rum in his dream/nightmare.
Dreams could be so stupid!
He'd never even liked Carlos that way!
He thought about taking him to his and Jayeson's apartment.
The way Carlos had been muttering disjointedly in his passed-out sleep;
"Ciento..! Yo soy...ciento! Yo tequero Jayeson!" he half shouted."
Dylan didn't know much Spanish, but everybody knows 'tequero' means love.
It gave him a start, knowing he'd said similar things to Marco once, in similar circumstances!
Though he hadn't been living with him; couldn't imagine doing something like that to him if they had been.
There were notes everywhere.
On the door to what Dylan assumed was Jayeson's bedroom: 'If you break in I'll Move Out!'
On the table in kitchen:'Order Out! And Don't LEAVE ME A MESS TO CLEAN UP!'
Bathroom door:If you Puke:Clean It Up!'
On what must be Carlos's bedroom(?)door: 'I WON'T DO THIS ANYMORE!' and below this 'YOU SHIT!'
He was just beginning to feel a little sorry for the usually cocky Carlos when he saw the last one on the back of the front door:'BACK WHEN I GET BACK! p.s.I COULD BE WITH MARCO-HE'S WORTH 10 OF YOU!'
What the..!?!
Time to go.
He wouldn't even think about that....
Nope, didn't even see that!
Except that it would just pop into his brain.....in bright red neon letters!...off and on for the rest of the evening....
"Tequero, mio novio guapo! Tu eres mio.....no Marco!" Carlos mumbled from where he lay on the couch as Dylan closed the door behind himself.
O.k. that didn't help!
'Tu eres mio.' Dylan thought.
He'd heard Carlos say that one so many times....to so many different guys....
One night he'd asked him what it meant;
"It means 'you are mine!'and no, most of the time I don't even really know I'm saying it."Carlos told him.
Dylan had gone outside to get some air that wasn't so mixed with various kinds of smoke.
Carlos had been sitting on the steps with a bottle between his legs, slurring that phrase to someone before pocketing his cell-phone with an amused snicker.
"To the ones who don't speak Spanish, I could say almost anything....and sometimes I have, just for the hell of it you know...?" The smugness in his voice irritated Dylan a little; but if his father hadn't given him one very serious talking to when he first started 'hangin-out', by now he'd probably have been just as.....callous about it.
"The only time I mean THAT is when I say it to mio novio.....Jayeson. It's like you and your Marco. I play, but I like it just fine that Jayeson really doesn't want to !" Here he looked at Dylan and winked.
" No, I don't think we would like that at all would we!?!" Carlos had taken a sip from his bottle of rum then, offered Dylan some.
In his shock at this admission.....this clearly stated understanding of something Dylan wasn't even willing to think about then.... coming from this seemingly so truly wild and completely uninhibited boy, Dylan had taken the bottle and knocked back a long one.
But rum is very good for distracting a person from whats bothering them.
After a while Dylan forgot what had started the two of them sitting here drinking together!
Now it seems Jayeson may finally have had enough......
X
X
X
Most of this was knocked right out of Dylan's mind by the reception he got when he entered his door.
By the time it came back to him, suddenly and without warning; he and Marco had finally made it to the couch.
Marco had managed to stir-up the wild creature that he alone knew lived just below the surface in this gorgeous dream of a boy....again.
The way Marco was looking up at him....the expressions that moved across that beautiful face, while they stared into each others eyes...that they could be....this open to each other.....
No hesitations.....no....fear, none at all!
Dylan's eyes had narrowed a little, and he was leaning down....bringing his face closer....and Marco was curling his body up to meet his lovers moist parted lips....
And it started as a whisper;
"oh, yeah...gotta be!.. " Dylan said so low that if they hadn't been this close Marco wouldn't have known what he'd said.
"Mine!" Dylan said softly but firmly..... "I will marry you!"The last part was spoken against Marco's lips.
By the time Dylan's brain registered what his mouth had said, Marco's mouth, hands...his whole body was answering him.....
Who needed words.