?A Collision of Fates? (Straight to Gay) (MxM) (18+)

Mark hadn't stopped thinking about it.

His mind kept replaying the scene, again, again, again. He had kissed Djaro. He had kissed Djaro, and he had liked it. But what did that mean? What could that mean? What did it mean to like it? Was Mark turning into a fucking queer, just like the rest of them?

He stood up from his bed and walked to the door. The golden sun was shining in through his balcony windows, gilding the room. He took a moment. He took a breath. After what had happened, how could he face the world? How could he face him? Him. Is that what he was now? Him? But Mark had been inside of his room for the entire day, and he was getting sick of it. He needed some fucking air.

He opened the door and walked out into the hallway. To his left, the rest of the private rooms branched off from the large, spacious hallway. To his right, the royal courtyard glowed in the sun. In front of him, Uwo.

"I need some air," Mark said.

Uwo crossed his arms. "I didn't know if you'd show your face today." He smiled. "What are you hiding from?"

Mark shook his head. "I need some air." He rubbed his face. "I can't think in that room."

"Where are you going to go?"

Mark nodded towards the royal courtyard. "Just for a few minutes."

Uwo turned to the side, his dark eyes lingering on the lush greenery. "Take your time, Mark. I won't bother you."

"You're not bothering me--"

Uwo put his hands out. "You don't need to explain. I understand." He gestured to the courtyard. "Go."

Mark was grateful, but all he could do was nod. He had too much to think about. He walked to the royal courtyard. And the second that Uwo was out of his sight, his mind started wandering.

What had he felt during The Dance? Had he imagined it?

The soft grass of the courtyard was spongy beneath his feet. He walked over a trickling brook, and, somehow, found his way to the small island that was surrounded by a nice water feature, a little moat. Beneath a leafy canopy, a bench was beckoning to him. Mark sat down and leaned back. A gentle wind blew through his hair.

In college, he had brought a new woman to his bed every night. He had been addicted to sex, addicted to the thrill, addicted to seeing a supple lady bouncing on his cock, moaning his name. The thrill. The power. Then, he had met Barbara, and all of that had changed. Mark had went looking for a quick hookup, and he had found love, he had found a family. Then came Chris. Then came Cloe.

Jesus, he missed Barbara. Every molecule of his being, every inch of skin, every cell in his brain missed his wife. He would've burned the entire Hall to the ground, if it meant that he could hold her again. But she wasn't here. She wasn't here, and he was.

Mark Dalton was not gay. He had never looked at another man with desire, with lust. He had never even considered it. But there was something about Djaro Mijat. It transcended the concepts of 'straight' and 'gay.' The relationship between Djaro and Mark was settled on another plane, another reality.

There was a loud squawk. There was a rush of wind. Suddenly, Paddzi was stomping happily on the wooden bench next to Mark. The little lichfiend got closer and rubbed his scaly head against Mark's arm. He knew what that meant, the tiny monster wanted some attention.

"Hey, little guy." He scratched the beast around the head. Paddzi let out a long, luxurious squawk. He closed his eyes. He lifted his head, enjoying the scratches. "You always make me feel better."

Paddzi opened his eyes again, looked at Mark, and squawked, a little burp of smoke coming out of his mouth. Mark chuckled and pointed at a nearby branch. Paddzi looked at the branch, and then back at Mark. His dark eyes were confused, unsure.