Chapter 4: The night
Marcus collapsed onto his back beside her, the thin mattress groaning under his weight. Sweat slicked his chest, catching the laptop’s blue glow. His breath came in ragged gasps, mingling with Evelyn’s own shuddering inhalations. The room reeked – sex, sweat, cannabis, and the faint, metallic tang of his cum leaking from her onto the sheets beneath them. Evelyn rolled towards him, draping a bare leg over his hip, her fingers tracing lazy circles on his damp chest.
"Holy fuck, Marcus," she breathed, her voice husky and wrecked. "That was... holy shit." She nuzzled his neck, planting a wet kiss beneath his jaw. "Best goddamn sex of my whole fucking life. Seriously. No one's ever fucked me like that. Made me feel... owned."
She tilted her head slightly, her eyes finding Thomas still frozen in the doorway, a pale statue against the dim hall light. His fists were clenched, his mouth a tight, bloodless line. "Thanks, Thomas," she added, the sweetness in her voice sharp as broken glass. "For letting Daddy come over. For letting him use me properly."
Thomas flinched as if struck. "Letting him?!" he choked out, the words cracking. "Evelyn! The condom! You fucking broke the rule! We agreed! Condom always! Always!" He took a step into the room, his body trembling with barely contained rage and horror. "He fucking came inside you! Did you forget? Or do you just not give a shit about anything anymore? What if he’s got something? What if—"
Evelyn sat up abruptly, the sheet falling away from her breasts. Her eyes, still glazed with the aftermath of multiple orgasms, fixed on Thomas with cold fury. "Shut the fuck up, Thomas," she spat. "Just shut it." She gestured dismissively at Marcus, who watched the exchange with a lazy, amused smirk. "Marcus came all this fucking way. Across town, late at night, just to please me. To give me what you never could. He made me cum so hard I saw stars. Three fucking times! He earned the say on how he wants to fuck this pussy." Her hand slapped down possessively on her lower belly. "His pussy. He wanted it raw. He wanted to breed me. So he took it. And I loved it. Every fucking thick, hot drop of him filling me up."
Marcus chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated in his chest. He reached out and squeezed Evelyn's bare thigh, his thumb rubbing circles high up near her hip. "Relax, buddy," he drawled, his gaze sliding to Thomas. His eyes held no warmth, only a predatory satisfaction. "She enjoyed it. I enjoyed it. Everyone's happy. Well... almost everyone." He gave Thomas a slow, deliberate wink. "Don't be a sore loser."
Thomas stared, his face crumbling. The framed poster of the shadowy figure above the non-existent fireplace in the next room seemed to mock him from memory. He felt gutted, hollowed out. The rules, their marriage, his pathetic attempts at control – it all felt like ash in his mouth.
Evelyn ignored Thomas's anguish. She leaned over Marcus, her nipple brushing his arm. "Roll us another one, Daddy?" she asked, her voice shifting back to that breathy, eager tone reserved solely for Marcus. "I'm buzzing. Wanna float."
"Sure thing, baby girl," Marcus murmured, pushing himself up onto his elbows. He fished the crumpled pack of papers and the small plastic baggie from the pocket of his discarded jeans on the floor. His movements were languid, unhurried, radiating complete ownership of the space, the moment, and the woman beside him. Thomas watched, numb, as Marcus expertly crumbled the pungent green buds, licked the paper, and rolled a tight, professional joint. He lit it with a click of his lighter, took a deep drag, and passed it to Evelyn.
She inhaled deeply, holding the smoke, then exhaled a thick plume towards the ceiling before snuggling back against Marcus's side. He put his arm around her, pulling her close, his large hand resting possessively on her hip. They passed the joint back and forth in comfortable silence, the sweet, skunky smoke mingling with the heavier smells in the room. Marcus occasionally squeezed her hip or dropped a kiss on the top of her head. Evelyn murmured contentedly, melting into him, her eyes half-closed, utterly absorbed in his presence.
Thomas remained standing, the unwanted spectator. The intimacy between them was a physical force, pushing him further into the shadows. He felt like a ghost haunting his own life.
After a few minutes, Marcus yawned, a long, wide stretch that made his muscles ripple. He stubbed out the roach on the edge of the small table next to the laptop. "Fuck, baby girl," he mumbled, his voice thick with weed and exhaustion. He pulled Evelyn tighter against him, nuzzling her hair. "I'm wiped. Gonna crash here tonight. That cool?"
Evelyn didn't hesitate. She tilted her head up, meeting his sleepy gaze. "Of course, Daddy," she whispered, her voice soft and utterly certain. "Stay right here. With me."
Marcus grunted in satisfaction, already settling deeper into the pillow, pulling Evelyn with him. He closed his eyes, his breathing starting to deepen. The bed was narrow, barely big enough for the two of them pressed so close.
Thomas stood in the doorway, the discarded condom a pale, glistening slug on the floor near his feet, the scent of Marcus’s semen still heavy in the air. The reality of his displacement crashed down. The small apartment had only one bed. He cleared his throat, the sound harsh in the sudden quiet. The question felt absurd, humiliating, but necessary.
"Where..." His voice cracked. He swallowed, trying again. "Where should I sleep?"