"My Grandma just found out that being gay isn't a bad thing and just came to terms with it. How am I supposed to make her understand that me being asexual is totally cool?"
"Aromantic."
"What?"
"You're an Aro, not an Ace."
"Oh. What's the difference again?"
Marcos sighed as his best and only friend stared at him through his phone screen. "Asexual means you don't exactly feel sexual attraction for anyone while Aromantic means you don't exactly feel romantic attraction to anyone."
"And I'm what, exactly?"
The male put clothes into the washing machine and set it into rinse before replying. "You are Aromantic. You feel sexual attraction but nothing romantic."
"Oh." Ace said as he ran a finger through his hair and relaxed back into his bed. "That actually sucks now that I think of it that way. Can I get married?"
"Of course, you can get married." Marcos replied, chuckling. "But you don't have to. Do you want to?"
Ace stared at the ceiling for a while before saying in a small voice. "I want kids."
"Are we still talking about the same thing? Cause I have a feeling we aren't." Marcos pointed out then sighed as he stared at the time on his watch.
Was A back home yet?
Worse, was he late? He didn't want to be late. As much as he liked punishments, he liked her praises as well.
He liked how she made him feel if he was good.
And Marcos liked being good. Sometimes.
"Just like you're a femboy but you aren't gay?"
Marcos let out a sigh. "Yes. Yes, like that. Wait, what are we even comparing?"
"You sure you aren't gay though?" Ace asked, tilting his head. "Cause you haven't exactly dated anyone to know how you swing."
I have, and it's still being kept a secret because she's protecting me from something, which is just pointless since I just want to be with her and I'm not a Princess who needs to be protected by my dragon 24/7.
Then he paused.
Okay, maybe he was her princess but the protection isn't necessary.
"I like boobies, thank you."
Ace reply was immediate. "You sound sarcastic."
Marcos laughed now. "I'm not having this with you." It was surprising how he couldn't stand anyone trying to tell him what his sexuality was, except Ace.
Perhaps, only because it was someone like him who didn't exactly know what he was talking about half the time.
"My love! Could you come to the counter for me?!"
Marcos perked up, taking out one of his ear pods before he looked back at Ace. "Hey, I have to go. My Mother needs me."
His best friend quickly sat up, his dark hair going over his face. "But we haven't found a way for me to explain to my grandma I'm more attracted to my toaster than a person!"
Marcos laughed again. "I think you should leave the toaster part out. Later."
As soon as he hung up, he let out another sigh and ran a hand through his hair before using a band to hold it in place then walked to the counter. "Mother. You called?"
And as soon as Marcos saw the look face, he regretted coming. She had on a smile that was as bright as the sun and possibly, almost as blinding. He could actually swear on it.
And that only happened, when she had found a boyfriend for him. "Honey, the drying part of the machine isn't working anymore."
And she was using English now. Okay. "I'm sure it is, Mama. I'd just go —."
"Oh!" And she was using her high pitched voice as well. Honestly, all this was pointless. He just wanted to go home to his A for heaven's sake. "Have you met Mr Steinfeld?"
He kept a firm face now. "Where is the machine?"
Yet, this was his Mother. She would not be deterred. "He's one of our most popular customers, you know. He actually went to make a ca— Ah. Here he is." When Marcos showed no interest, she hissed in spanish. "Look at him."
I don't want to.
But he did.
The man closed the door to their laundry shop, his phone still on his ear wearing a white and black suit with blond hair and sunglasses to match.
And he was freakishly tall.
His Mother wasted no time to beam her sun rays at him. "Welcome back, Mr Steinfeld. I was just telling my son here, how you always come to us and are one of our most valued customers."
The man gave a small smile at her and said something rapidly on the phone in another language. (Italian probably, thought Mama wanted a spanish boy.) Then hung up before speaking to her. "You do a good job, Mrs Gomez."
His voice was deep. Sensual possibly. Plus, the smile on his face still gave it an ethereal glow.
Sad luck. Marcos wasn't gay.
"Not only me." Maria practically rushed to her son and pushed him forward like he was a chicken on sale. "My son does as well."
This time, Mr Steinfeld took off his shades, revealing blue crystal eyes, as his eyes moved over Marcos' body, making him feel like he was one of those paintings people stared at in museums. "He's... Beautiful."
That comment, at the beginning, used to be pleasing. Then it became downright embarrassing, now, it was just plain uncomfortable.
His Mother, anyway, was the epitome of pride about her child. "He is, isn't he?"
Mr Steinfeld kept staring. "Yes." Then his hand began to reach out to his face. "I wonder how he —."
Marcos quickly moved out of the way, turning around to face his Mother. "Mama. I want to go home."
His Mother perked up. And in English. "But the machine —."
"I don't feel so good." He completed, which was true. He didn't. Marcos hated disappointing anyone, especially her, but he didn't exactly feel comfortable with this man. At all. "Haven't been, since school. Can I?"
Perhaps she heard the way he sounded and could tell he was being honest because her face fell and became softer. "Oh. Of course, son. Let me go grab some change —."
"No. It's alright. I can drive him home."
He spoke spanish? Was his Mother a psychic?
Maria didn't even seem surprised that he could speak with them as well. "I don't want to bother —."
"It's alright. It's the least I can do for the work you do for me. And my cloths, of course." His smile grew as he faced a now sicker Marcos with his hand out. "Shall we?"
Through the ride back home, Marcos constantly wished he had a little bit of Alex's bravery. If she were him, she'd flip the man a bird and demand he stopped the car.
But he didn't. So he settled with keeping quiet.
"You seemed a little surprise I speak spanish."
Curse the universe. "I wasn't surprised. I was actually not surprised. I'm not sure how I can explain it and it'd make sense."
Mr Steinfeld grabbed the wheel a little tighter. "Try."
"I'm not gay."
Shit. He didn't want to say that. Because whenever he did, people looked at him with something close to pity and understanding.
But he really wasn't! So it was extremely exhausting to even explain.
Plus, the face Mr Steinfeld was making made Marcos feel like sinking into his seat. "I know."
Fuck you.
Marcos sighed and looked back at his phone then sat erect. Oh, God. She was back home by now. He was probably dead but somehow, still breathing. "Stop the car."
Steinfeld looked at him. "Your Mother said —."
Marcos turned to him as well. "Stop it."
At his words, the older man stepped on the brakes. The car lurching forward for a second before Marcos opened the door and walked out. "Where are you going, Marcos?"
"Thank you, Sir." Was all he gave as a reply before he began to jog to her house, which was thankfully not so far away since they were already close to his house.
As soon as he was at her house, Marcos paused to catch his breath, taking a moment to blow warm air into his hand before he noticed that her bike wasn't parked in the frontyard.
He was late. Yes, that was true.
But it couldn't count, because she wasn't home.
Why?
He ignored the slight pain in his chest, knocking on the door for a while and entering when no one answered.
The stale smell of vomit and alcohol hit his nose, causing him to scrunch it before he spotted the woman on the couch.
Adriana had sweat all over her face, some residue of the vomit she had puked beside her still on her lips. Her skin looking pale and sick with some empty bottle of beer around her.
God, he felt sicker than before.
He could ignore this. Just go up to Alex's room and pretend he didn't see it which would even put him on the safety side since she hated it whenever he tried to involve himself including her Mother, but Marcos, wasn't like that.
The thought that she'd even have to come back home to see this. That she had been seeing this for so long made it impossible for him to ignore this.
So he ignored the voice telling him to mind business and cleaned up the mess on the floor, then helped clean up her face and body, before throwing out the bottles and finding a blanket to put over her body.
As he did so, his eyes moved to her face. Alex looked exactly like her, except she was darker skinned, and younger.
Not that he had ever seen Mrs Parker fully awake before, but he was sure that the version of her sleeping brought out her beauty more.
Smiling, he left her, taking his bag and walking up to Alex's room.
As always, even if everything in the house was in a chaotic state, her room was spotless. Everything kept in a perfect order which included the picture of him on her nightstand.
He smiled again, picking it up and moved his finger on the glass. She had taken the picture the first day he had dyed his hair, (which had been a battle for him since he worried about what his Mother would say).
Everytime he was here and she caught him looking at him, she'd always say, "You don't regret it, do you?"
And he'd shake his head, earning a kiss on his forehead with her replying in a small whisper, "Good"
The memory made his heart warm up a bit before it grew cold again. Where was she? She was always a sticker to time, mostly because of her OCD, but also because she liked keeping to it.
She'd never keep him waiting for so long. Unless— Unless she had returned home, didn't find him and gotten upset, which put him in a dangerous position, or something happened to her.
Marcos would rather believe the first one.
Still, he tried texting her, none of his messages getting read before he tried calling.
And her phone was switched off.
Was she— Was she okay?
No, of course, it was Alex. She was most definitely okay. If she found out he was actually worried about her, she'd be pissed.
So she was probably upset. Yep, that was what it was. It was his fault though, which meant he had to prove he was sorry.
Marcos sighed, setting his bag on her chair before heading to her closet. Most of the clothes in it were big shirts and pants that he could probably get lost in but behind those ones, were the clothes she used to wear before.
Before it all happened.
Biting his lip, he took out a lemon long sleeved crop top and a blue with dark green stripes plaid skirt and knee length white socks.
Marcos had ever worn her clothes once, and that had been for Halloween. Just only for her eyes anyway. He didn't want anyone seeing him that way except her.
Plus, he could tell she loved it.
Maybe he could do this, and convince her into forgiving him? Not that he was good at this tempting thing. He wasn't.
But he could at least try, right?
He found the drawer where she kept her makeup bag. Only making use of the eyeliner to darken his eyes and a rouge colored lipstick.
As he ran it across his lips, Marcos spotted the now healing hickey on his neck, an urge to make sure it didn't disappear crawling through his body but he fought it down.
It was the first time he was using something so bold on his lips. And for good measure, he brushed his hair, letting it stay down now before he returned to her bed and stared out the window.
Where was she?
He was really beginning to get worried. It wouldn't be the first time she'd ignore him but now, something felt off.
Like, after today, something's weren't going to be the same way anymore...
Marcos sighed and gave a small prayer.
Please, bring her back to me.
~
Marcos had no idea when he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep. All he remembered was hugging a pillow, and then a second after, a finger was trailing itself across his cheek. "You look beautiful when you sleep, Eros."
His eyes opened first, meeting her dark ones that stared back at him with a smile on her face. "Baby."
Relief flooded him at that moment. All Marcos wanted to do, was jump into her arms and squeeze the air out of her but if it meant nothing had happened to her, it meant she had deliberately been ignoring him.
He slowly sat up, his voice low. "I'm sorry, Mommy."
She reached out for him. "For what?"
He studied her face, and he knew. Alex wasn't in the slightest upset. Infact, she looked... Excited, for some reason. "You're not— You're not mad at me?"
"You aren't naked, yes, but—" Her eyes moved down his body. "I'm in a good mood today."
Marcos should have been happy that she was in a good mood. He knew that. But he was her happy pill. School always had her grumpy. Something wasn't adding up. "Where were you?"
Alex didn't answer.
Instead, she stood up from the bed, taking off the shirt she was wearing and standing in front of him, shirtless with her pants still on.
Marcos' eyes moved from her navel, which was so small and barely visible, to her abs. They weren't completely solid, since she never worked out for them, but they were there and her breasts...
God. He barely ever saw them. Due to the clothes she wore, he sometimes forgot how they looked, but looking at them now.
They were past the average size.
And just between her collarbone, was a tattoo. He rarely ever saw that as well. It was a crescent moon.
Luna.
Him.
"I'm not late." She replied, her voice soft as she began to walk to her closet and opened it. "I said after school. I didn't give a time. Did I?"
He watched her rummage through it for a while, then tie up her hair into a bun before turning around to face him, a pink blindfold in her hand. "But you must have waited a long time for me. Didn't you?"
Marcos found himself nodding.
Alex's lips formed into a small smile. "My poor baby." She walked to the bed and crawled towards the frozen bit, before pinning him to the bed, his hands over his head before putting on the blind fold.
A small whimper nearly left his lips as she bent down, her erect nipples brushing against his body as she whispered to him. "Would baby like to play a game?"
Was he supposed to say no with her on him? Like this? "Y-Yes."
She moved to his neck and brushed her teeth on it. Making his body move and give her more access in hopes she'd leave another mark. "Yes, what?"
"Yes, Mommy."
He felt the ropes now being tied around his wrists, keeping them still before she began to trail her hand down his body, her voice velvety. "And you didn't just dress like a slut. You also wore Mommy's lipstick."
He felt her thumb push itself into his mouth and he hurriedly began to suck on it but she moved it out almost immediately, her his grinding into his hard on. "Such a naughty boy."
God. He wanted to touch her. Or touch himself. Or touch something. Anything. He felt like he was losing his mind. "Mommy."
"Shh." Slowly, he felt something cold and slim moving around his nipples, going around in circles. It wasn't an ice cube, no from the smell, it was—
The lipstick. Jesus. The fact his nipples looked bright red right now...
"Before we play the main game, we're going to have a guessing one, but we'd have a little fun as well. Ready?"
Marcos nodded. "Y-Yes."
He heard her chuckle, her hands now trailing down and raising up his skirt. "Look at him. All naked and leaking under a girl's skirt like the whore he is."
Marcos said nothing. His brain already in scrambles as her hand began to slide down his dick, and up. She felt wet, slippery more like it.
Was she —.
A loud gasp escaped his lips as something like a ring was being pushed down his dick, and fuck, it was vibrating.
"Now." She went back to his chest. "If you guess what I'm writing on your body correctly, without moaning or jerking, you get to ask me whatever question you have and I shall answer correctly. Is that understood?"
"Y-Yes, Mommy."
"Good boy."
She began to write slowly. Torturing the poor boy as he tried his best not to jerk his hips or moan before she said, "What did I write?"
"Slut." He had barely managed to even keep up with her writing. From his pulsing dick to her torturing his chest. It was just pure luck.
"Correct." She began to move again and Marcos bit hard into his lips. Fuck, she was planning to kill him. It was so obvious. "Now?"
He had no idea.
And when he didn't answer, the vibrator went faster.
"Fuck." A tear slipped down his face as he tried his best not to move.
"What did I write?"
"I don't —. Nggh." He was biting on his lips again. "B-Bitch."
Her laughter was evil enough for him to know he wasn't right. "Wrong."
Her hand moved to his dick now, rubbing her thumb around the tip causing him to dig his toes into the bed so he wouldn't scream as she said quietly. "I could let you cum, and you wouldn't have to know why I came back home late. What would you prefer?"
This was obviously a trick question. Alex always rewarded him when she felt he had enough self control. If he gave in, he'd feel completely empty. Plus, he wanted to know where she went.
"One more time." He pleaded. "Let me t-try one more— one more time."
Her hand left his dick and he breathed out a sigh as she went back to his chest. "Guess again."
"W-Whore."
"Correct. If you guess this last one, I get to answer your questions, okay baby?" She asked.
He nodded. Speaking was becoming hard and all of his body felt like electricity was running through it. Even as she wrote the last one, he thought he'd give up. "What next?"
"F-Fucktoy." This time, he had managed to put all his focus into it, and though he couldn't see her.
He knew she was pleased. "Good boy."
"Ahh!" A finger was making it's way into it's hole. Pushing and widening it. Marcos managed to grab unto the sheets as she opened him up with her still lubed hand before shoving another finger.
"Ask."
With two fingers inside him, brushing at his prostrate so easily. Talking seemed impossible, but he managed to let out a sentence. "W-Who... Oh, God. Wh-Where were... Were you?"
Her fingers pushed further, causing Marcos to open his legs wider with a gasp as she said, "School."
"W-Why?"
"Someone wanted to meet me there."
Of course, she wouldn't make this easy.
"Oh God." The pleasure running through his veins was making it hard for him to even think clearly. "W-Who... Mhmm! Was... Was he?"
The fingers came out of him and the blindfold came off. As soon as he opened his eyes, he found hers on him, her lips in a smirk.
Marcos was trying to breathe properly now. She was so close, her lips brushing his gently as she said in a whisper. "Paris Holmes was asking me to be his boyfriend."
His eyes widened. "He wh—."
She shoved herself inside him.
He found himself biting hard into her shoulder as the pain went through him before he heard her chuckle. "You cummed immediately I went inside you. Eros? Marcos? Should I —?"
He was shaking his head, more tears coming out of his eyes. He felt so full, and yet, the fact someone else wanted her...
He suddenly wanted her close. "Fuck me, Mommy, like the slut I am. Make me cum again. Please, Mommy"
He heard her let out a low growl. "When you say it like that—."
He gasped as she thrusted into him, his eyes rolling back. "Y-Yes. F-Fuck me like your bitch. Y-Yesssss. Nggh!"
"Fuck."
"Yes. Oh— Ahh!"
Marcos found himself on her laps, her cock now shoving itself deeper into him before she pushed the top off his head, her lips latching itself unto his nipples.
He moaned as he felt her tongue suck on her then bite hard on it, her hand untying the rope and as soon as it was gone, he wrapped his arms around her neck.
His hips bounced now on her, his hand squeezing itself more around her as he kept hitting his prostate while her lips now attacked his neck before she moved to his lips.
He could taste the lipstick on her lips, or perhaps it was him, he had no idea. All he knew was her lips were on him and he could barely think straight anymore.
His nails dug into her back as he felt himself getting closer. He pulled away from her lips, his head thrown back as he rode her faster." "Fuck. Fuck. Yes, Mommy. Oh, you feel so good! Y-Yes, yes —!"
Nothing else came out of his mouth as he rode her down to his high, holding unto her tighter till he was down.
Minutes later, he walked out of the shower and found her on the bed, a book in her hand. She had showered first and changed into another shirt and joggers while he wore one of her bigger shirts and laid on her chest.
His back hurt a bit, and the hickeys on his neck...
Marcos didn't mind at all. At least, not now. He had another sweater, or he could wear his collar. He loved how she looked at him when she did.
But that wasn't important at the moment.
"Mommy."
She looked away from the book, her hand immediately moving to his hair. "Baby. How do you feel?"
He pouted. "Back hurts."
Alex smiled. "Want me to kiss your boo boo?"
He wanted to say yes. He really did, but he'd have to go home soon and he doubted he'd actually be able to sleep if she didn't tell him about Paris. "No. I— You said something about Paris, Mama."
"Oh, that."
Why was she smiling?!
"It's not important." She replied, but he could swear she was smiling. "He had a rough breakup and he thinks he wants to be dominated, but he doesn't. You know how guys like him are."
"Are you... Are you going to date him though?"
He knew things like this had happened before. Since their relationship was a secret, to most people, she dated others sometimes, though they never lasted.
She used to say it was because he was special, and he was , to her at least, but Paris Holmes was an entirely different subject. "I won't, but I might play with him for a bit."
"Oh."
"Hey." She made him look at him and when he did, he realized how beautiful she was. It didn't even seem fair that he could keep her all to himself, even though he really wanted to. "He'd go away. They always do."
It's what you thought of me at the beginning. You thought I'd leave but I always came back.
"And if he doesn't?" He heard himself ask.
Alex didn't give an answer to that. All she said was, "You have to dye your hair again. Or would you like it's normal colour back?"
Marcos felt a bit disappointed that she brushed off the topic but answered anyway. "Yeah. I will."
"Okay."
He went back to her chest now, holding her tighter around him before he heard her say. "And I saw what you did with my Mom."
He stopped breathing.
"Thank you."
He let out a sigh of relief. Finally, something he could smile about. "You're welcome, A."