Substitutes Make Everyone Happy

Patience

(Lyrics from last chapter were "Darling, you know how the wine plays tricks on my tongue,")( FOB lyric this time.)

Jack's POV.

"I woke up to Mark's alarm going off, but he was gone. Why? I don't know. I shut off the blaring alarm by smacking my hand onto it at random. The sheets were so warm and cozy, I wanted to stay here forever. But ever so slowly, I got up, stretching my sore arms, peeking in the washroom to see if he was there. No trace of him.

I dragged myself up and walked to the closet door, maybe he was in there. I flicked on the lights and my stomach dropped.

Whips and chains lined the far wall, some bigger than others. Coils of rope and silk bands hung from hooks, and cuffs and blindfolds sat on a shelf. I took a step back, trying to take it all in. On one rack hung his actual clothing. There was a chest of drawers underneath the silk, and I opened one of the drawers. Gags filled it, of different sizes and materials. I didn't even want to know what the rest of it held. He probably used this with his other boyfriends. But then again, I went to open the next drawer. It had small containers of lube, lotion, a few condom boxes, and a small black box. I picked it up and opened it. In it was a small key. I looked at it curiously. Was this the key for that locked door? It felt wrong holding it, but I really wanted to know.

I peeked out the bedroom door, seeing no trace of Mark. I tiptoed to the locked door and peeked through the keyhole.  All I saw was a red wall. Hm.

I tried out the key, and it fit. This was it. I don't know if I should do this, because it was Mark's privacy, but I was so curious!! I thought for a moment, in a sort of dilemma, and eventually locked the door again, remembering that he said it was for another day. I was already surprised enough, maybe I'd cuff him in his sleep. That'd be funny.

I went back into his room and put the key back, shutting the lights and closing the door to the closet. I changed into a spare shirt and sweatpants I had, brushed my teeth and began walking downstairs when I heard singing. This beautiful voice rang out, echoing off the walls and filling the house. Brassy and full, it sang out words I didn't know a song to.

How many times do I have to tell you, even when you cry in that beautiful tune...

It was beautiful. It sounded like Mark, but I couldn't be entirely sure. It rang through, making me happy.

I tiptoed down the rest of the stairs and across the marble floor to the kitchen, where Mark was flipping pancakes and singing to himself.

The world is bringing you down, out and around, through every hole. You're my downpour, you're my muse...

"Mark?" I called out. He jumped, and turned to me. He tried to sputter something out, but he was blushing too hard.

"That was you?" I asked. He nodded a little.

"That was beautiful!" I shouted. He laughed a little bit and pecked me on the lips.

"Your hickeys are healing." He pointed out.

"Finally." I said, over dramatized. He laughed again, putting the pancakes on a plate.

"Breakfast." He said. I blushed.

"You didn't have to, Mark."

"Well I wanted to," He retorted. "So sit your pretty ass down." He laughed.

I raised my hands in mock surrender, giggling, and sat down at the dining table. He served us two pancakes each  and we ate quickly, as it was Thursday, so we did have class. It was 6:45 when we finished, and we tossed our dishes in the washer and dashed upstairs to change. "