"Compromise" (Marco/Jake, R)
Title: Compromise
Author: Eppy
E-mail: LizzyPaul@aol.com
Rating: R
Pairing: Marco/Jake, some Jake/Cassie
Spoilers: Everything
Timeline: Mid #54
Summary: Jake isn't gay.
Disclaimer: Not mine, K.A. and Scholastic get it all. Sniff.
Note: I origninally posted this a few months ago at animorphs_flash. I cleaned it up and am reposting now with felinephoenix's permission.
Warnings: Gay sex (non-explicit) ahoy!
Marco sighed and curled against me. I could feel his soft cock press into my thigh, the scratch of his hair as he wound his leg through mine. His warm breath wafted across my chest, raising tiny hairs along the way. Reflexively, I wrapped my arm his waist and pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head.
Marco shifted and murmured, so soft that I almost didn't catch it, "Love you."
I froze. "What?" I choked out, feeling like my throat had shrunk three sizes.
Marco pushed himself up so he could look at me. "I love you," he said.
Oh, fuck.
*~*~*
I'm not gay. I loved Cassie. Still love her, really. I would have been happy to spend the rest of my life with her. But that...that wasn't an option.
And then Marco came out. Cassie nodded like she expected it, which just pissed me off. How could she know? He acted like every other horny heterosexual guy, chasing after anything tall, blond, and female. I asked her, and she started talking about over-compensation and repression with a look of, "How could you not know? You're his best friend." Whatever.
I was cool. I could handle that. I didn't have a problem with gay guys. Heck, I had gay friends. No big deal. Really.
I mean, sure, at first it was difficult. Little things, stuff I'd always taken for granted, were suddenly uncomfortable. I'd go to put a hand around his shoulders or pat his back and realize, wait, Marco's gay. So after awhile, it got to be normal to keep a little more distance between us. And it became another part of who Marco was: Marco's funny, Marco thinks college hoops are better than the NBA (moron), Marco's gay. No problem.
Sometimes I'd mess up, point out a cute girl on the street or something. Marco would just look at me, raising a sardonic eyebrow, and I would blush and quickly change the subject. I never pointed out cute boys. I don't know, it would have just been weird.
It occurred to me that I didn't even know what type of guy Marco liked. I never heard him talk about someone, or check someone out. And what made a guy cute, anyway? I knew what I liked. Even though people thought Rachel was gorgeous, I was always more attracted to Cassie--round, healthy, soft skin, loving eyes, full lips--but I wasn't going to think about Cassie. Were gay guys like that? Did Marco have a type?
God, what if I was his type?
No. No, that was too weird to think about.
*~*~*
"I hate the word 'gay'," I said one afternoon. Marco was sprawled in front of my T.V., playing some video game. A new Nintendo system had come out, and he wanted me to try it out. It was cool, I guess, but I got tired of it after awhile. Three hours later and Marco was still going strong.
Marco paused the game and looked up at me. "What's wrong with gay?" he asked. He sounded surprised, and I couldn't blame him. After all, we never talked about it.
I shrugged. Marco climbed on the couch and sat next to me. "Gay means happy," I said, after he'd elbowed me in the stomach to continue, "or it used to. And you're not happy."
"Neither are you," Marco pointed out.
"Well," I said, "I'm not gay. Heterosexuals are allowed to be miserable."
Marco bit his lip. "I don't want you to be miserable, Jake."
"You can't always get what you wa-ant," I sang. My voice broke like I was twelve. I had to look away. If I kept looking at Marco, who was looking at me with big brown eyes full of sadness and...and pity...I was...
A warm tear rolled down my cheek. Marco brought a hand to my face and rubbed the tear away with his thumb. With his hand still cupping my jaw, he repeated, "I don't want you to be miserable," and kissed me.
I kissed him back, before I remembered I wasn't gay.
*~*~*
I'm not gay. I kissed Marco because he kissed me. I kissed him again because it felt good. And I kept kissing him because...I don't know. Because I wanted to. Because I could. Because Marco cared about me, and it had been so long since I felt wanted, needed.
Maybe that's why I started sleeping with him. I don't know. It felt good, on several levels. He wanted me, really wanted me. He was passionate and thoughtful and sex was so much more than I ever thought it could be.
I didn't have to think when I was with Marco. He made all the decisions. He told me what to do. And I did it. I trusted him, trusted him not to hurt me. Trusted him to take care of me. And he did. I wasn't Prince Jake with him, I was Jake. Just Jake, his friend, his lover.
Nothing could compare with what his hands felt like when they touched me, what his mouth felt like when he sucked me off, what his cock felt like buried deep inside of me. I'd had sex before--admittedly, not a lot--but it had never felt like this.
I guess I kept sleeping with him because if felt good. Because it was a time when I could forget. Because he wanted me.
But I'm not gay. And I thought Marco knew that.
*~*~*
Marco was still looking at me expectantly. His hand brushed my thigh and I shivered. "I love you," he repeated.
I swallowed hard. "I'm not gay," I said, which was not at all what I wanted to say. I usually have more tact than that, but Marco's declaration on top of the normal post-coital brain drain had pretty much made me an idiot.
Marco nodded and clenched his jaw. "Okay," he said. I could see tears in his eyes before he turned his head away. He pushed off me and started to get out of bed.
Some spark of reason made it through the fog in my head. I grabbed his arm and pulled him down. He sprawled across my chest and struggled to get free, but I was still stronger than he was.
"I'm not gay," I said, "but I love you." I blinked. Well. That wasn't what I wanted to say, either. "I...I love you," I said again, incredulously, almost believing it the second time. A slow smile started to make its way across my face. Oh my God, I was in love with Marco.
I wasn't gay, though.
Marco stopped struggling. He looked at me for a long moment, than smiled. It was a smile without cynicism or bitterness, just a full, bright, beautiful smile that made me shiver. "I guess I can live with that," he said, and kissed me.
**END**
Author: Eppy
E-mail: LizzyPaul@aol.com
Rating: R
Pairing: Marco/Jake, some Jake/Cassie
Spoilers: Everything
Timeline: Mid #54
Summary: Jake isn't gay.
Disclaimer: Not mine, K.A. and Scholastic get it all. Sniff.
Note: I origninally posted this a few months ago at animorphs_flash. I cleaned it up and am reposting now with felinephoenix's permission.
Warnings: Gay sex (non-explicit) ahoy!
Marco sighed and curled against me. I could feel his soft cock press into my thigh, the scratch of his hair as he wound his leg through mine. His warm breath wafted across my chest, raising tiny hairs along the way. Reflexively, I wrapped my arm his waist and pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head.
Marco shifted and murmured, so soft that I almost didn't catch it, "Love you."
I froze. "What?" I choked out, feeling like my throat had shrunk three sizes.
Marco pushed himself up so he could look at me. "I love you," he said.
Oh, fuck.
*~*~*
I'm not gay. I loved Cassie. Still love her, really. I would have been happy to spend the rest of my life with her. But that...that wasn't an option.
And then Marco came out. Cassie nodded like she expected it, which just pissed me off. How could she know? He acted like every other horny heterosexual guy, chasing after anything tall, blond, and female. I asked her, and she started talking about over-compensation and repression with a look of, "How could you not know? You're his best friend." Whatever.
I was cool. I could handle that. I didn't have a problem with gay guys. Heck, I had gay friends. No big deal. Really.
I mean, sure, at first it was difficult. Little things, stuff I'd always taken for granted, were suddenly uncomfortable. I'd go to put a hand around his shoulders or pat his back and realize, wait, Marco's gay. So after awhile, it got to be normal to keep a little more distance between us. And it became another part of who Marco was: Marco's funny, Marco thinks college hoops are better than the NBA (moron), Marco's gay. No problem.
Sometimes I'd mess up, point out a cute girl on the street or something. Marco would just look at me, raising a sardonic eyebrow, and I would blush and quickly change the subject. I never pointed out cute boys. I don't know, it would have just been weird.
It occurred to me that I didn't even know what type of guy Marco liked. I never heard him talk about someone, or check someone out. And what made a guy cute, anyway? I knew what I liked. Even though people thought Rachel was gorgeous, I was always more attracted to Cassie--round, healthy, soft skin, loving eyes, full lips--but I wasn't going to think about Cassie. Were gay guys like that? Did Marco have a type?
God, what if I was his type?
No. No, that was too weird to think about.
*~*~*
"I hate the word 'gay'," I said one afternoon. Marco was sprawled in front of my T.V., playing some video game. A new Nintendo system had come out, and he wanted me to try it out. It was cool, I guess, but I got tired of it after awhile. Three hours later and Marco was still going strong.
Marco paused the game and looked up at me. "What's wrong with gay?" he asked. He sounded surprised, and I couldn't blame him. After all, we never talked about it.
I shrugged. Marco climbed on the couch and sat next to me. "Gay means happy," I said, after he'd elbowed me in the stomach to continue, "or it used to. And you're not happy."
"Neither are you," Marco pointed out.
"Well," I said, "I'm not gay. Heterosexuals are allowed to be miserable."
Marco bit his lip. "I don't want you to be miserable, Jake."
"You can't always get what you wa-ant," I sang. My voice broke like I was twelve. I had to look away. If I kept looking at Marco, who was looking at me with big brown eyes full of sadness and...and pity...I was...
A warm tear rolled down my cheek. Marco brought a hand to my face and rubbed the tear away with his thumb. With his hand still cupping my jaw, he repeated, "I don't want you to be miserable," and kissed me.
I kissed him back, before I remembered I wasn't gay.
*~*~*
I'm not gay. I kissed Marco because he kissed me. I kissed him again because it felt good. And I kept kissing him because...I don't know. Because I wanted to. Because I could. Because Marco cared about me, and it had been so long since I felt wanted, needed.
Maybe that's why I started sleeping with him. I don't know. It felt good, on several levels. He wanted me, really wanted me. He was passionate and thoughtful and sex was so much more than I ever thought it could be.
I didn't have to think when I was with Marco. He made all the decisions. He told me what to do. And I did it. I trusted him, trusted him not to hurt me. Trusted him to take care of me. And he did. I wasn't Prince Jake with him, I was Jake. Just Jake, his friend, his lover.
Nothing could compare with what his hands felt like when they touched me, what his mouth felt like when he sucked me off, what his cock felt like buried deep inside of me. I'd had sex before--admittedly, not a lot--but it had never felt like this.
I guess I kept sleeping with him because if felt good. Because it was a time when I could forget. Because he wanted me.
But I'm not gay. And I thought Marco knew that.
*~*~*
Marco was still looking at me expectantly. His hand brushed my thigh and I shivered. "I love you," he repeated.
I swallowed hard. "I'm not gay," I said, which was not at all what I wanted to say. I usually have more tact than that, but Marco's declaration on top of the normal post-coital brain drain had pretty much made me an idiot.
Marco nodded and clenched his jaw. "Okay," he said. I could see tears in his eyes before he turned his head away. He pushed off me and started to get out of bed.
Some spark of reason made it through the fog in my head. I grabbed his arm and pulled him down. He sprawled across my chest and struggled to get free, but I was still stronger than he was.
"I'm not gay," I said, "but I love you." I blinked. Well. That wasn't what I wanted to say, either. "I...I love you," I said again, incredulously, almost believing it the second time. A slow smile started to make its way across my face. Oh my God, I was in love with Marco.
I wasn't gay, though.
Marco stopped struggling. He looked at me for a long moment, than smiled. It was a smile without cynicism or bitterness, just a full, bright, beautiful smile that made me shiver. "I guess I can live with that," he said, and kissed me.
**END**