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didn’t fool around at all between boyfriends? No one-night stands?” Mark shakes his head and Patrick huffs his disbelief. “Not even some casual fooling around at a bar? Sexy dancing?”
    Mark is still shaking his head. “Quit judging me.”
    “I’m not; I’m just surprised. With the way you look you should be picking up left, right and center.”
    “Cut it out.”
    “Dude, learn to take a compliment. You’re hot, I think you’re hot and I’m allowed to say it. You’re allowed to enjoy hearing it and you do not need to tell me I’m wrong.”
    They fall back into silence as the movie ends and another begins.
    “So…” Patrick begins again. “Have you ever been in love?”
    Mark scrubs his hands over his face, wincing at the faint smell of feet on them, and pushes Patrick’s calves off his lap. His mind races even as he sets his mouth into a grimace. He can’t even remember the last time he said the name out loud; he has never told this story to anyone. He just says, “Yeah, once,” and wonders where the conversation will go.
    “Really?” Patrick sounds surprised. “Which one?”
    “The one I didn’t mention. The one in high school.”
    “ Really? ” He sounds intrigued. Mark is surprised that Patrick hasn’t immediately mocked him for having had a high school sweetheart, for the very idea that he could feel the kind of love they are talking about as a teenager. He knows that Patrick just sees this as a puzzle and doesn’t quite realize that it’s still awful for Mark, stings deep in his heart even though he tells it to stop. Mark figures that this is what makes him want to talk about it, even as he recognizes that thinking about it is worse than pointless, just a black hole of self-loathing and regret. But Patrick is smart, and holding his attention with anything at all would usually seem like an accomplishment—anytime except now, when he’s drunk and already feeling the throb of a headache.
    “Really.” Mark stands up and takes one last gulp from the bottle of vodka. He suddenly feels far too sober, considering how empty it looks.
    “What happened?”
    “I fucked it up.”

CHAPTER 3
    Patrick is gorgeous—Mark has to admit it. If Patrick were at all amenable to the romance thing and not a lawyer and not quite so much of a dick, if he were a bit more sarcastic and a bit more of a nerd and a little less arrogant, Mark is pretty sure he’d make a great husband. As it is, he makes a good friend and a fantastic ongoing fuck.
    He’s all dark skin and hard muscle. There’s even less fat on him than Mark had guessed on that first night, and now that he’s had dozens of chances to search every angle and curve of Patrick’s body, he’s pretty sure Patrick’s wasting his time fooling around with him.
    Patrick is godlike and knows his way around another man’s body as if it’s his profession. It’s glorious, and Mark learns quickly, eager to please and be liked. Patrick judges him for that, pushes him off and back with a growl, kisses him hard and just slicks their bodies together with sweat and the hard grind of muscle on muscle. He takes what he needs and refuses to let Mark give him more. He talks to him while they fuck, explaining the difference between wanting and needing and the importance of both; he rambles about give and take as though it’s philosophy and Mark would laugh at him except sometimes it sounds like poetry and it’s always hot as fuck.
    And it resonates with Mark, seeps through his skin and makes him selfish some nights, makes him try on the idea of flopping back on an unmade bed and letting himself go wanton, trusting that Patrick will like him, will give him pleasure just the same. It’s bizarre and makes no sense in light of Patrick’s character, but the times Mark is most selfish are the times Patrick grins wolfishly at him and then wraps his body in his arms and fucks him the best.
    Patrick goes jogging with him as well, insists on it early in the morning