No Regrets

A hollow clanging sound roused Deacon from his dream. In the dream, he and Sarah had been at the town's annual fair, a silly little apple-themed affair. He had taken her there for their first date, and had taken her there again almost a year later to tell her he loved her. He'd spent almost five dollars the first time trying to win her a toy at some stupid sideshow, and then she'd won it for him on her first try. Grinning at the memory, Deacon raised his head from the pillow and looked at his high shelf - the Lion King toy took pride of place in the centre, its ear still matted from when, at the end of the night, Sarah had squashed her candy apple against the soft toy as she kissed him.

Deacon grinned into his pillow and stretched heartily, wincing at the pain in his ass. Deacon's head shot up and he frowned at his realisation. His ass hurt? Another metallic crash emanated from beyond his bedroom door, this one followed by a muffled, and distinctly male voice cursing something. The colour drained from Deacon's face and he groaned into his pillow as the previous night's events came back to him. He remembered the talking, the kissing, the....his stomach rolled as he recalled the last activity of the night.

'Oh, no use tiptoeing around it now,' Deacon thought to himself. 'You got your ass busted good, boy.' No, he wasn't thinking of it like that, it was more than that.

Slowly sitting up in the bed, feeling sticky and a little sick, Deacon rubbed his hand over his face and through his dishevelled hair. Yes, the talking, the kissing....'and the most incredible sex you've ever had,' he finished silently. The most intense fuck in his life, and it had been his best male friend delivering it.

'You're in this now,' Deacon thought. 'Even if saying it out loud makes you cringe, you got ass fucked and you loved it.' Smiling ruefully, Deacon gingerly got out of bed and padded towards his bathroom. He took a lengthy piss, and then a boiling hot shower, cleaning away the sweat, cum and tiny bit of blood from the night before. As he emerged from the bathroom, the sound of sizzling and smell of bacon caused his stomach to growl appreciatively. Deacon quickly threw on some sweat pants and a wife beater, and moved to open the bedroom door. He paused and took a deep breath, trying to clear his mind of any nagging doubts or questions - he needed to have a definite attitude about this thing, or they'd both end up pussyfooting around, mumbling to their respective feet and making everything awkward. Deacon opened the door, walked down the hallway and leant in the doorway of the kitchen, his confidence evaporating as he watched Mark poke bacon around in a frying pan.

Deacon noisily plodded down the two steps into the kitchen and leaned on the counter, his hands in his pockets. Mark turned, and their eyes met. A full minute passed, and neither boy said a word, not a smile nor a frown exchanged. Deep, brown eyes gazed into pale, steely ones. Deacon swallowed heavily and looked away, a blush rising on his neck as flashes of their coupling resurfaced in his mind. Mark turned towards the stove and flicked the element off. Deacon turned hesitantly and started walking towards the sitting room, a deep sigh catching in his chest - he couldn't read Mark's expression at all, good or bad.

'Or maybe I just don't want to,' Deacon thought glumly. He had always wondered why Sarah was so clingy after sex, why she needed so much reassurance from him. Reassurance of what, he had never known. Now he was getting a clearer idea of where her mind was at those mornings. Having Mark inside of him the night before had been a lot more than just fucking for Deacon; it had been that too - he was an 18 year old male, sex was as essential as breathing - but it had been a pretty mind-altering experience. Deacon's biggest fear this morning was that it hadn't meant anything to Mark, that it had just been a chance to get off. He knew he should know better, he and Mark had been through too much and were too close to risk ruining their friendship for the sake of a one night stand - but that knowledge didn't stop Deacon from becoming convinced that that's all it had been for his friend. Will you respect me in the morning was a question becoming less funny and more concerning in Deacon's head.

Deacon was halfway out of the kitchen when a strong hand encircled his forearm and tugged gently. Mark forced Deacon around to face him. Deacon swallowed again, startled by the tears threatening to break loose. Mark clenched his jaw and put a hand on either side of Deacon's face, bringing their foreheads together. Closing his eyes, Mark exhaled slowly and thumbed the side of Deacon's face. Mark had been unsure of how to act this morning, how he was supposed to feel about the whole thing. Deacon had looked so vulnerable and fragile when he walked into the kitchen, and Mark had suddenly realised that he needed to say exactly the right thing to his friend at that moment, for both their sakes. But Mark's mind had gone blank as he looked into his lover's solemn eyes, and he knew anything he said would be the wrong thing. So he had just stared at Deacon, not knowing how to make it right. 'The longer you wait, the worse you're gonna make it,' Mark reminded himself.

"I...Are you okay?" Mark's voice came out husky and uneven. Deacon tentatively placed a hand on Mark's waist and leant into Mark's grip. He let out a long breath, not even aware he'd been holding it.

"Better now," Deacon said faintly. Mark moved away from Deacon's forehead, hands still on either side of his face, and briefly kissed the trembling lips in front of him. Again the boys started at each other silently, until a snicker escaped Mark's mouth.

"How lame are we, man," he said quietly, and Deacon laughed softly. Moving towards the stove, Mark removed the pan from the element and scooped the bacon onto two plates containing hash browns and eggs.

"Over-easy alright?" Mark grinned as Deacon nodded with a smile. "I...I've never really needed to know how you like your morning-after eggs." Deacon's eyes sparkled.

"Unfertilised," both boys said in unison, giggling briefly as their eyes met. Deacon reached out and took the utensils out of Mark's hands and put them back on the counter. Reaching around Mark's waist, Deacon drew his lover close and they kissed deeply.

"Am I gonna need to put these plates in the oven, or are we gonna eat now?" Mark mumbled into Deacon's cheek. Deacon smirked and pushed Mark away playfully, glad that the tense atmosphere had been broken.

"Fine, let's eat then," Deacon replied brusquely, grabbing a plate and a fork, and heading towards the lounge. Mark followed suit with a grin, but his smile faltered slightly as he noticed Deacon's faintly awkward walk.

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With the eating finished and the dishes done, there was nothing to occupy the boys' thoughts, and both their minds inadvertently turned to the previous night. Sitting by the pool side by side, their pant cuffs rolled up and feet dangling in the sparkling water, the two best friends sat in pensive silence. Deacon shot a quick look sideways at his friend and sighed.

"Are we gonna have to talk about this?" Deacon asked.

"I don't know..." Mark started hesitantly. There was something he wanted to ask, but he still wasn't sure if he wanted the answer. After debating internally for a moment, he took a breath. "Are you...okay? I mean, really okay? I noticed you walking a bit...stiff...before." Deacon huffed a small laugh under his breath.

"Yeah, maybe I'm a little...tender, this morning," Deacon replied with a self-conscious grin, "but it's not a bad kind of sore in any case. You know that, right?" Deacon asked, searching Mark's face.

"I guess so..." Mark said. "But I didn't mean...you seemed..."

"Come on, you've been to the gym before," Deacon said reproachfully. "You work out a muscle you don't generally use, it's bound to be a bit sore the next day, right?" Mark nodded dubiously. "Don't worry about it, please? Just try and remember what it actually was, okay?" Mark looked sideways at his friend and raised an eyebrow.

"What was it, then?" Mark asked boldly. Deacon produced an embarrassed grin and looked away.

"...I hope I'm not totally missing the mark with this synopsis," Deacon said quickly, "but what it was for me..." he bit his lip anxiously, and blurted out, "...was the most incredible sex I've ever had!" Deacon looked towards Mark to see how he would react to his confession, and was taken aback by the sudden look of blatant want in Mark's eyes. Before he knew it, Deacon was down flat on the patio surface, Mark pressed up against him, his best friend's tongue trying earnestly to clean the back of Deacon's throat. Rough, strong hands were all over his body, coming to rest at the top of his sweats. Mark hoisted Deacon's legs up high on his waist, and grappled with Deacon's waistband. Deacon grunted in pain as Mark's hands roughly caressed his ravaged ass, and gently but firmly pushed Mark away from their kiss.

"...Sorry," Deacon breathed, trying to draw air into his lungs to replace what Mark had sucked out of him. "Sorry, it's just... even though it doesn't hurt much right now, I'm thinking we might need to lay off the...the internal activities for a little while," Deacon explained, his cheeks reddening. "Sorry, it just might be a bit much for me to handle right now..." Mark shook his head in impatience.

"You don't have to apologise, I should've realised..." Mark rolled back onto his heels and frowned slightly. "Look, it's only because you're a bit sore right now that you don't want to, right? Because if you don't want to....do that again, just tell me, okay?" Deacon raised his eyebrows at Mark. "I just meant...you're not pulling the 'I've got a headache' card on me, are you?" Deacon sat up abruptly.

"You think of me like that, like I'm a chick?" Deacon asked hotly. "You wanna hear me say it, is that it?" Mark frowned, confused.

"No, I...what? Hear you say what?"

"You wanna hear me say that I liked it, that I got fucked in the ass, and I fucking loved it? That I want it again right now?" Humiliated, Deacon scrambled to his feet and started walking toward the house. Halfway across the patio, he turned abruptly and paced back towards the pool. "It's because you don't want to do it again, isn't it? I gross you out, because of what I did?" Deacon's voice cracked with emotion, all his insecurities and doubts rising quickly to the surface. "And you just made that breakfast and everything because you didn't know how to tell me that it was just a fuck for you, that I make you sick for liking it, for what I want to do with you..." Mark stood up and shoved Deacon square in the chest, silencing his frantic tirade.

"Don't be a fuckin idiot!" Mark shouted at his friend. "No, I don't think of you like a girl, I think of you as my best friend; yes, I do want to hear that you liked it and want to do it again, because yes, I do want to do it again; and no, you do not gross me out or make me sick, I think you're amazing!" Mark stopped and took a deep breath, calming himself down. He too had been concerned about what Deacon would think this morning. He was afraid Deacon would say it had been a mistake, a one time thing that they needed to put behind them. Or that he'd be mad at Mark for doing it, for making him do it. "I'm sorry, I..." Mark held his hands up in puzzlement. "What made you think any of that? What did I say?" Deacon dropped his troubled gaze to his feet and fiddled with his t-shirt.

"I don't know..." Deacon shrugged and looked at Mark. "You don't feel...guilty about it, that it's not right? I don't mean the cheating, I mean what we actually did, the sex. That even if we were single, that this would be...wrong, us being together?"

"You mean, two guys together?" Mark asked, and Deacon nodded. "I don't know...we established yesterday that none of this felt weird to us, which was weird in itself, right?" Deacon nodded again. "So the only reason this feels wrong is if other people's opinions are in the equation. What we did..." Mark looked into Deacon's eyes and smiled. "What we did last night felt incredible, we agree on that much, right?"

"Yeah, I know it was," Deacon said. "This...it just brings a lot of questions into my head, that I have no way of answering. Like..." Deacon bit his bottom lip anxiously. "Like am I suddenly gay now? Is it all guys or just you, do I still like girls..." Deacon sighed and tapped his finger to his temple. "You opened Pandora's box in my head, man."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Mark said. "Look, I get as uncomfortable as the next straight guy if I see or think about gay guys, but I guess...I guess I don't really see us like that."

"How can you not?" Deacon asked, incredulously. "We...you fucked me up the ass, how is that not gay?"

"I know, but...it's you." Mark said simply. "I don't know how to explain it...it's like it wasn't just sex for the sake of sex, but more like...the only way for us to get closer than we were. Oh God, that sounds so lame..." Mark rolled his eyes and scratched his forehead. "Since the accident, we've been...I don't know, I don't know what the hell I'm talking about." Mark threw up his hands in exasperation and sat down heavily in a patio chair.

"Yes you do," Deacon said, sitting cross-legged in front of Mark. "What were you about it say? If we're so close, how come you can't tell me?" Mark screwed up his face and sighed.

"But if you haven't thought about this like I have, even a little bit, what then?" Mark asked anxiously. "I don't want you to think I'm a goddamn lunatic!" Deacon shook his head firmly.

"Look, I've thought about a lot of things way more than I should have since December," Deacon replied, "and we've both obviously thought way too much about last night, so you can't be anymore of a nutcase than I am. But you first. You've never really talked much about the accident except last night, so I wanna hear this. I need to hear this."

"Okay," Mark said with a shrug, "but I can't promise that any of this will make sense." He lay down on the patio chair and Deacon lay down on the tiles, both of them looking up the clouds. Mark took a deep breath and started talking, hesitantly at first, then more passionately.

"So much of my energy before the accident was spent on being a stereotype - I wanted the right girl, the right body, the right friends, the right interests. Not consciously or anything, but I was pretty content not to look any deeper into a lot of things, and what I was supposed to be and what people thought of me was pretty important to me. After my accident, before I knew for sure that I was going to be okay, I had a lot of time to think about a lot of things. If things had gone a different way, I could have been disfigured and paralysed for the rest of my life. And where would that put me, in my mind? Everything I had been before the accident would be completely irreconcilable with my new situation. I could never have what had been my idea of the 'normal' life. It made me look more closely at what I wanted out of life - what I wanted to do and why, and what I really wanted out of the relationships I had.

"I guess after the accident, I started wanting things to be a little more...meaningful. And less confined in terms of what I used to think I should be like. I did a lot of thinking about things that I would have considered were only for people who were unhappy - questioning God and the big picture, trying to understand who I am, what I am...some real beliefs so that, regardless of whether I came out of the hospital paralysed and impaired or on my own two feet, I would have some things to hold on to. I realised those questions aren't for unhappy people, but just for those who want to be complete, to know who they are no matter what.

"The way you were after the accident made me appreciate how much you cared about me, that the bond we had was more significant than my friendships with other people. It wasn't that I didn't care for them, and I really enjoy their friendship, but I felt like what we share had the potential to be so much deeper. Not sexual, that didn't enter into the equation at all at that point. I just got this feeling that...that you sometimes saw things the way I had started to, that you had questioned a lot of ideas and beliefs too. I got really excited at the prospect of finding someone with whom I could really connect with, not just bullshit all the time. I mean, I love just being a guy sometimes, drinking beer and telling dirty jokes and fucking...but I wanted more than that, I wanted someone who would do those things too, because they are a lot of fun, but who also has an urge to know more about life, has an urge have meaningful encounters, to try and understand who they are and why."

"A soul mate, you mean," Deacon said slowly, a strange look on his face.

"Yeah, I think so," Mark agreed, looking over at Deacon. "Except I was too much of a coward to tell anyone any of this, even you, the person I wanted to have a real connection with. I got scared of what the feelings meant, and when I was released from the hospital, and got back into school and friends, all that surface stuff that sucked me back into the mould, I lost sight of my....quest, I suppose. I had so many questions and fears about the accident, and how I was feeling, but I thought if I told anyone...if I kept it to myself, I'd never have to find out that I was wrong about my feelings, about how I was thinking. I tried to see the same connection with Marie, but it just wasn't there. Last night, after I told you about the accident and you seemed to understand exactly what I meant...I'd never felt that in tune with someone before. Then when we...when I was inside you, it was like a level above any other sex I've had, like we were both at the same place at the same time. Like for those moments we weren't two separate people, guys or not, but just one...shared idea, one soul." Mark let out a quiet, low groan. "That sounded so gay...I'm such a dick, huh?" Mark sat up and looked over at Deacon with a sheepish look on his face.

"No...no you're not," Deacon said ruefully. He sat up suddenly and let out a guttural moan. "Yes, you are, we both are..." Deacon started laughing, his whole body shaking with mirth. He stood up, still laughing and grabbed a fistful of Mark's hair, shaking his friend's head from side to side. "Dammit, we are both complete idiots, so fucking blind!" Mark furrowed his brow in confusion, wondering what it was that he'd said that was so funny. Deacon let go of Mark's hair and roughly grabbed his friend's face with both hands, staring into his eyes. "Six months, six fucking months we've both felt like this and not done a damn thing about it for fear of what the other would think if we were wrong about it!" Deacon pressed his mouth against Mark's lips forcefully, his fingers entwined in Mark's hair. Breaking the clinch, Deacon barked a loud laugh up at the sky and threw himself into the pool. Mark let out a bewildered laugh, and shrugged. Pulling his shirt off, he cannonballed into the pool behind his lover. Both boys broke the surface and stared at each other, breathing heavily.

"So what part did we feel the same about?" Mark asked. Deacon pushed his wet hair off his face and shrugged.

"Well...you've been a different person since December - still you, don't get me wrong, just a deeper version of you. And I know that the whole...ordeal was yours, but it made me look at myself too. Thinking about life and death, meaning and purpose. The things that everyone should be thinking about, but we don't because people think its depressing." Deacon grinned and nodded at himself. "Depressing, and a bit...wussy. And it was really frustrating having all these ideas and theories and questions, and not having anyone to talk to about them, or even better someone who would understand without having to talk." Deacon cocked his head and looked at Mark. "When you got back to school and sport and everything, everyone made out like it was all ok, that everything was back to the way it was. That you were back to the way you were. And I would've believed it too, if it hadn't been for how you were with your back."