Lover for Pay: The Escort & the Teacher (manxman)

XVIII - Warning

Chapter Eighteen

Standing naked before London's dresser, Marbell stared into the mirror hanging over it. His eyes traveled over the scar canvasing majority of his torso, catching sight of the hickies blotched along his collarbone. Meeting his own eyes, he remembered how lifeless they used to be, stoic and impassive to just about anything. It was nice to be able to look himself in the eye and not despise the human being looking back at him. Finally, after years of self-loathing, Marbell Matthews was content.

6:30am and he had tutoring in an hour this morning before class. He'd woken up feeling revitalized and didn't much want to leave the house, but teaching was his priority. Plus, he'd promised his students he'd be there.

"You know what would look really good on you right now?" London's sleepy voice came from the bed, it was husky and tired, a tone deeper than it usually was. He had his arms folded behind his head, the sheets from the bed covering just his groin. As his rippled abs rose and fell slowly with the movement of his breathing, thoughts of the night before refreshed in his mind. Part of him wanted to jump up and drag the teacher back to bed with him, but...they both had work.

Marbell fixed the tilt of his glasses and touched at the burn on his chest. "What, a shirt?"

"Heavens no," London said. He sat up and stood from the bed, the sheet falling from his naked form. When he was in front of Marbell, he dragged his fingers carefully down the man's chest, the faintly rough surface of his skin not making him cringe for a second. He pressed their warm bodies together, and an arousal sparked in his cock. Able to hear the stop of Marbell's breath, he slid his hands down the man's trim hips, and said, "Me. I would look good on you right now."

Feeling the need to bend London over and get one more session in, Marbell bit down on his lip when the tattooed boy's hands squeezed a firm grip onto his ass, dragging their cocks together to inspire another round of fucking. "I would love to be inside you this time around," Marbell said, voice whispering as London traced the hickies he left behind with his tongue, "but I've got class soon. Daddy's gotta go, baby."

"Fine..." London whined, "But you're coming back after work, right? Please tell me you don't plan on going back to your hellhole with that bitch."

Marbell felt the air coming back to him when London took a step away so their bodies weren't touching anymore. "No," he said, "I can't go back there. Knowing her, she'd take so much anger out on me, and, honestly, I just wouldn't feel safe if I did. The slap isn't the first time she's hit me." He began to move about the room, picking up his clothes from the floor to have them washed. "After school, I'm going to call my father to make an appointment with him. It's time I tell him the truth no matter what he thinks."

London took the pile of clothes from Marbell and kissed his forehead. "I'm proud of you, you know that?" he said. "This can't be easy for you."

It wasn't, at all, for Marbell at least. He was so unnerved by the thought of telling his own father he was gay, but it was time and this had to be done if he ever wanted a peaceful life with London. And that's exactly what he was aiming for. He wanted to build a new future with London, live together, eat together, sleep together, and ultimately be a family together. Never could he have comprehended the true power that love could bring to his life, but with London having entered it, even with the way he had, Marbell would not have any of it differently.

He was in love with a beautiful young man, and it was about time he showed how much he meant it.

After finishing a hot shower, Marbell got dressed in a pair of slacks and shirt that no longer fit London. When he had his tie and shoes on, he went out to the living room. London was in the kitchen in sweats and a t-shirt, his hair still drying from the shower they'd shared together. He was at the sink cleaning a set of pans he'd used to make breakfast. There was a single plate at the table with eggs, bacon and toast, a tall glass of orange juice next to it.