Rough Canvas (Nature of Desire 6)

"Tyler married a Domme?" Marcus chuckled at the thought. "Oh, there's karma for you. Two Dominants paired for life. Sounds like they have a competition problem they decided to turn into a lifetime psychosis. "

"No, it was a good thing. I don't know why it works, but when you see them, you know it's right. Tyler is one lucky bastard. "

"Does Lauren know she has competition?"

"Stop it," Josh said mildly. "You know that's crap. You're sure it's not you that you called about?"

"Everything is not about me, you know. And before you can say it, fuck off. " Over Josh's chuckle, Marcus continued, "I should set up a show with you and Thomas. If he survived the heart attack at the mere idea of it, you two would make me a tremendous amount of money. "

"Shut up, Marcus. " Josh's voice lowered. "You know Lauren and I love you. So we're here, all right? If he hurts you again, I don't want to be anywhere near him. " The line went dead. Marcus knew Josh had done it on purpose, denying him the ability to come back with something flippant, a rapid parry before the weight of those words could strike his shields and land a harsh blow on his defenses.

"Asshole," Marcus muttered.

When Marcus flipped the phone closed, he saw they'd brought in another guy to balance the teams. He could enjoy watching Thomas at his leisure. He stretched out in a reclining position in the low beach chair and set the phone aside, laying his head back on the headrest to take advantage of the sun and keep an eye on his lover at the same time.

It amazed him, how unaware Thomas was of his own appeal. The way the other men checked him out, the passing of the ball that allowed them to brush hands, make those subtle overtures that when men were involved were not so subtle. The occasional slap on the back or somewhat lower, for a point well played. The beach environment removed inhibitions, and of course there was always the chance of some quick action in the dunes if you could get a prospective partner stirred up enough.

Marcus watched the newest man, whose name he caught as "Carl", maneuver closer to Thomas, his hand lingering on his shoulder as they spoke strategy. It dropped briefly to Thomas' waist as he told Thomas something that caused a quick smile.

Thomas moved out of range. Not as far or as deliberately as Marcus would have liked, but then it was a close contact sport. Ben, evidently a peacemaker, murmured something to the man, shooting a discreet glance toward Marcus' location.

Carl laughed, pushed him away. Since Marcus was downwind, it was easy to catch the gist of the response. " - shouldn't leave his ass alone then - " As Marcus studied the man behind the screen of his sunglasses, he wondered how Carl would look with his foot stuffed up to the ankle into his own rectum.

On the next rotation, the man made another move, far more blatant. This time his hand closed in a flirtatious squeeze on Thomas' ass before he took the ball. Thomas pushed away, but not with anger. He elbowed the man away with a grin. A fucking grin.

Marcus' eyes narrowed, taking a harder look at that replay. Thomas didn't grin that often. Usually it qualified as just a smile. This grin had been high wattage, a little forced. And yes, that was definitely an eye cut in his direction.

The bastard was trying to make him jealous. Seeing if he was paying attention.

Marcus set aside the sunglasses and rose. He inclined his head at Andrew when he was noticed, but he moved toward the water, indicating his intention to take a swim.

He held Thomas' gaze a fraction of a second before he continued past the play area.

As Thomas watched Marcus move down to the water, he was sure of two things.

Marcus had noticed his pathetic adolescent act. And in his sophisticated way, h

e'd given it the attention it warranted. Thomas had walked out on him and only committed to one week with him. Who the hell was Thomas to make demands?

He was the guy who was here in front of Marcus, damn it. The one who'd come at Marcus' encouragement, despite his mother's tears and his brother's crude accusations.

Despite the fact his gut was going to eat him alive when he had to walk away at the end of the week, while Marcus would go on with his urbane, privileged life.

Carl made a muffled protest as Ben elbowed him aside with little fanfare and took the ball from Thomas' hands. "Thanks for joining us. "

"What - "

Ben corralled Thomas with a friendly but firm arm around his shoulders and shepherded him to the edge of the court. He dropped his tone. "If you don't go after that after the look he just gave you, you're an idiot. Stop being stupid and dicking around with this snaker. " He raised his voice. "Later today, why don't you and Marcus plan on joining us for a coffee? There's a great place not far from here. " Practically every man on the beach, as well as the few girls, had simply stopped what they were doing, even if they pretended not to, to watch Marcus walk down to the water in nothing but that brief scrap of swimsuit. He'd always been completely aware of how attractive he was, but Marcus didn't flaunt or minimize it. It was just an asset.

An asset Thomas knew carried the potency of a lethal weapon.

Ben gave him a friendly, firm push. "Thanks again. "

"Our pleasure," Thomas managed, saving face with the response before he turned on his heel and walked away with forced casualness toward the surf. Marcus was already in to his waist, showing remarkable fortitude for the New England temperatures. Even in late summer, Thomas' blood was more accustomed to the southeast coastline. But he could use cooling off anyway.

He splashed in, gritting his teeth at the surge of cold water, and followed Marcus as he moved further out. He resented that he didn't look back. Resented that he was the one following him like a puppy, resented that fucking phone call and whoever'd been on the end of it. It would have been better if he'd stayed in North Carolina. At least there his tortured imaginings of Marcus sleeping around were exactly that, not actual, in-his-face realities.

Marcus went under and came back up, water running off his shoulders down his back, his now-wet ass in the briefs visible for a glimpse as a wave passed. He dove under it as Thomas closed in, moving past the surf line into the quieter waters. Marcus didn't resurface.