Iver’s Sphere Book Two: Marcus & Qiang (Currently Untitled) Chapter 1: A Punch in The Gut Lunch

Marcus’s POV

I’ve always been an ardent admirer of beauty. Whether that beauty is found in people or things doesn’t matter. It’s always been a click in my head. Something catches my eye, and I can’t look away until each part of what I’m seeing is memorized and catalogued in my memory banks. So it’s really no surprise that I can’t keep my eyes off the pretty person in front of me. The only surprise is knowing I can’t do a fucking thing about it other than look.

A rarity for me. When it comes to pretty people, I’ve rarely had a difficult time getting them to allow me to appreciate them as intimately as I want, and the few times I’ve been told no, it’s never been something I got hung up on. Just move on and fixate on the next pretty thing. No hard feelings, no second guesses, no regrets or foolish pining. But it’s rare. Most of the time, I get my way, and when I’ve had my fill, I send them on their way. Everyone knows the stakes and chooses to play the game. Some try to change the rules, but I’m a stickler for them. One night, no repeats, no feelings. It’s for their safety, not mine. While my dick is all for the game, my heart is not. My heart is married to the football field. I don’t have time to step out and have my attention divided.

But the person in front of me right now is probably the prettiest person I’ve ever seen in my life. For whatever reason, when Qi said older sibling, I automatically assumed bigger, which is one of the most illogical assumptions I’ve made in a while. And it’s proving how ridiculous the assumption was because Qiang is the exact opposite of everything I imagined they would be. Qi is tall and fit. Thin, but with a firm layer of muscle and meat. Qiang is about 5’5, barely even comes to Qi’s chin, and they’re lithe. All sleek lines and grace, and they don’t look like they have a trace of meat on their bones. 

They have long hair that’s pulled back into a high pony, revealing a buzzed undercut underneath. The pony pulls slightly at their eyes, giving them a cat’s eye look that’s only exacerbated by their winged eyeliner. The eyeliner and a light shimmer they added to their lids make their chestnut eyes warm with a mesmerizing hint of allure. The blush on their cheeks adds a rosy tint to their golden skin while highlighting the cut of their cheekbones, and their pink lips are glossy, adding to the seductive plushness of them. 

Easily one of the prettiest faces I’ve ever seen in my life, and like a kick to the nuts, there’s a neon ‘off-limits’ sign that keeps flashing over their head. It keeps reminding me that no matter how much they draw me in, no matter how dangerously the ropes of control I have over myself fray every time our eyes meet, that I cannot play with this one, at all, ever. 

This entire lunch is about having everyone meet so we can decide if living in a house together will work for all of us, because Qiang and I are the only two who haven’t met yet. They are Qi’s sibling and our future hopeful roommate of the off-campus house we have waiting for us when we head to university. Qi is Tristan’s boyfriend, and I know that Qiang moving in with us is important to him. And since what is important to Qi is important to Tristan, and Tristan has been my best bro since our freshman year of high school, that makes what’s important to him important to me too.

In all fairness, Qi is a really awesome guy anyway, so it would have been important to me anyway. Pretty fucking stoked that Tristan found someone who fits him. Tristan has never shown a preference towards anyone before, until all of a sudden, he runs into this Qi guy and has been a goner ever since. It was worrisome at first because I’ve seen a lot of people try to take advantage of Tristan. Between his face, his money, his domination on the football field, and his impeccable reputation, he was one of the biggest catches on the market. I was worried that Qi would be like that too, but it only took kidnapping Qi once and driving him the hour it takes to get from his place to Tristan’s place to know that Qi’s on the level.

And he’s pretty, too. Qi would have definitely caught my eye if it weren’t for knowing he was Tristan’s heart. But of course, I would never betray Tristan that way. Not that I’d have a chance anyway. Tristan and Qi just resolidified my belief in soulmates. My parents, and then later Tristan’s parents, were my first lessons in soulmates, and how the concept of soulmates can look different for different people. But Qi and Tristan are just as solid—couple goals through and through. 

But most of that isn’t completely registering in my brain right now because it’s predominantly tripping over the fact that Qiang is so pretty, it’s leaving me more than a bit breathless. 

“Dude, you didn’t tell us your sibling was hot!” Darryl’s whistle of approval has something possessive coiling through me, which is even more unsettling than the daze Qiang has me in. 

Darryl and I have never squabbled over who we hit on or sleep with. Hell, we’ve even been known to share in the past. Not something we’ve done often because even though we’re both pretty adventurous, we aren’t actually attracted to each other. Even though we’re both into all genders and have shared our partners, it’s never been an ‘our swords crossing’ type of sharing. Although in scenarios like that, sometimes they touch–it just happens. The more bodies thrown in at a time, the more confusing what belongs to who gets. 

But something in my gut is making it clear that it wants Qiang, and not for sharing. I need to tamp that shit down, though, because I can’t have Qiang, regardless of how hard my dick is straining towards them. And evidently, Qiang is not cool with the flirty remark Darryl just dropped either, because their face is scrunched up as they stare up, up, and up, at the towering giant that is Darryl without a trace of fear on their face. 

“Excuse me, I’m what?” they demand, the displeasure clear in their tone. 

Darryl has enough chagrin to give Qiang an apologetic expression, but whatever he’s opening his mouth to say gets lost when Qi pats Darryl on the back and introduces everyone as though the unpleasant exchange went completely over his head. Whether it actually did, or he’s just trying to smooth it over before it gets worse, I don’t know. But the interruption eases the tension on Qiang’s face.

Relief crosses their features as Qi points us out. “So this is not the potential roomy; that one is, right?” they say, nodding their chin towards me. 

I stand up because it’s the gentlemanly thing to do. My mom would be appalled if she knew how long I’ve been sitting in front of this person without standing up to greet them properly. I have no excuse beyond being completely waylaid by their aesthetics that normal brain function seems to be beyond me. Something that’s only proven when our eyes meet, and this tangible force pulses through every vein in my body. Who the fuck is this person, and what sort of sorcery is this?

My body is on autopilot as I reach my hand out to shake theirs. “Yeah, I’m Marcus, the potential roomy. Well, not really roomy; more like floory, really. Is that a thing? That doesn’t sound like a thing, does it?” I ramble out, and my eyes flit from Qiang’s to Tristan’s to see if I sound as off my rocker as I feel right now. 

Tristan’s eyes are pinched as he takes me in, confusion all over his face, which tells me that yes, I sound as off my rocker as I feel right now. Shit, I need to get my head on straight. How the hell did just one look get me all fucked up like this? I’ve seen attractive people all my life. Been blown away and turned on to the point of pain just by a sexy outfit or the tease of a seductive smile. But this is something different. This is coiling through my body like it owns it; like it belongs there; like it understands me better than I do. It’s not just attraction, it’s something deeper, something feral, and if I don’t keep a firm hold on it, it’s going to obliterate me. 

And if I thought I couldn’t feel even more, their warm skin grasping my hand sends electric shocks that I can feel from my palm all the way through my limbs, that awaken my cock and have it inappropriately stirring at the worst of times. 

“I don’t think so, but I get what you’re saying,” they say before dropping my hand. And as much as I could touch them forever, as much as the forefront of my brain wants to touch them forever, I know it’s a blessing they let go so I can sit down and hide my current situation under the table before anyone else notices. 

Tristan is still eyeing Darryl and me with a hint of betrayal because I know he knows us well enough to know this isn’t some random bi-awakening thing. Neither Darryl nor I has acted shocked at the admission to the other having a queer streak that we’ve both just dropped between Darryl’s flirty quip and the obvious attraction that I know I’m showing. It’s pretty obvious that not only were we aware of ourselves being queer, but also that the other was queer as well. It’s a really huge thing that we’ve left Tristan out of the loop on, which was completely unfair, and the slightly hurt look in his eyes is completely our fault. I just separated Tristan from the sexual side of my life a long time ago because he was so disconnected from it. I thought constantly bringing it up was making him uncomfortable, but I also left out a significant part that I shouldn’t have in the process. 

I catch Darryl’s eyes and minutely nod in Tristan’s direction. Darryl’s eyes flit from mine to Tristan’s and then back to mine, understanding lighting his eyes and then dimming them as realization hits. No, we don’t owe anyone explanations of our sexuality, but leaving Tristan out of something we’d obviously shared with each other broke an unspoken bro code, and Tristan is probably trying to figure out if there’s anything he’d done to render himself unworthy of our trust when, in reality, it had been our own oversight. 

Darryl squares his shoulders and turns towards Qiang. “You’re gonna love the house. You know, if you decide to move in, but even if you decide not to, I’m sure you’ll see it anyway. The view is amazing, and the rooms are massive. You’d have two rooms and a bathroom all to yourself,” he rambles out, and I know he’s trying to ease the tension. Which works because we all kind of start falling into a bit of random conversation and banter. Eventually, Qi catches my eye before nodding towards Qiang, and I know what he wants. 

The point of this meet-up is for me to give Qiang a good enough impression of myself for them to agree to move in with us. Not quite sure how on board I am with that now. I mean, not really. I know how important it is to Tristan and Qi, so obviously, I’m on board, but I’m a bit hesitant now, too, because this pretty person with big doe eyes makes me react in ways that are equal parts exciting and terrifying, which, quite frankly, is absolutely… well, terrifying. 

I take a deep breath to collect myself before looking Qiang in the eyes. “So Qi says you run a makeup channel. What’s up with that?”

I know right away that I’ve said something wrong. Qiang instantly bristles, and I look over at Tristan for some sort of clue on how I just fucked up. I am not this fucking awkward. Ever. I am smooth, always know the right thing to say, and when I need to say it. I don’t know how this pretty person managed to abscond with my entire personality, but I need it back. Right fucking now. 

“What do you mean?” Qiang asks, a challenge evident in their voice, and I realize what I’ve done. Tristan made it clear that Qiang has been hurt by jocks, most likely by being bullied, and in today’s society, Qiang being a makeup person is most likely a part of it. The question came out more like I was calling them out instead of showing them that I’m legitimately curious. 

“I mean, how did you get into it? Obviously, you must like it to do it, so is it something you hope to expand on in the future? Do you do makeup that centers on a specific clientele? I’ve seen some that are more geared towards cosplay and others more geared towards contouring. Some are more neutral while others are bolder and more daring, so I was just curious.” 

Qiang’s body deflates while I talk. The tension visibly leaves them as they realize I meant no harm, and I let out a silent breath of relief. I need to do better than this. I normally would be doing better than this if Qiang hadn’t fucked up my brain synapses and sent my head into a tailspin. 

Qi nudges Qiang’s shoulder. “They got into it because of clown avant-garde makeup,” he says with a playful glint that has Qiang relaxing the rest of the way. Not sure what it means, but whatever it is eases Qiang’s discomfort, which I’m thankful for. I’m walking on thinner eggshells than I’m used to, and shit’s stressing me out. 

“I did not, you brat,” they say with an exaggerated eye-roll before focusing back on me. “I don’t do a lot of the cosplay stuff. Sometimes I do a couple of fun things during Halloween, but most of the time it’s just different everyday wear looks. I’ve always loved makeup with the way it can shape and change a face, or alter a look, or completely transform it. The channel isn’t really popular enough to be my sole source of income, but I’m hoping a master’s in business with a focus on marketing will help me make it lucrative enough. And honestly, it’s grown exponentially as I take things I learn and apply them along the way,” they say, getting enthusiastic as they talk. 

Their eyes light up, and I can see the love they have for their craft shining through them. It’s intoxicating, and I’m completely drawn in by them and their love for what they do. It’s something that found its way into them and became a part of their blood, traveling through every part of who they are and where they’re going. And I completely dig it. Maybe makeup and football are two completely different things, but it feels like they love makeup the same way I love football.  

“That’s awesome. Most people just kind of go for whatever’s easiest or most convenient. So few pursue what they really want anymore,” I tell them, admiring their bravery.  

Qiang tucks their hands beneath their chin and leans in towards me. My breath catches just a bit; their eyes are now close enough to make out the specks of copper that swim in the pretty charcoal depths. “What about you? What do you really want to do?” they ask.

I can feel my cheeks burn with the smile that spreads across my face. “Get recruited. Play in the NFL. Live the dream,” I tell them, envisioning the future I’ve had mapped out in my head since the first game my dad ever took me to. 

I already played football at a youth activities club my parents had me signed up in, but it was that first NFL game I saw live when I was twelve that solidified a fun activity into an obsession. The crowd, the energy, the way each player left everything they had on that field. It wasn’t just a game. It wasn’t just a good time. It was a clash of titans, a fight to the death, a momentous battle that lodged itself so deep in my heart there’s no coming back for me. It’s in me now, in my past, my present, my future. It’s mine and always will be. 

“And if you don’t get recruited?” Qiang’s arguably rational, despite being completely unreasonable, question drops me out of that euphoric memory straight to the linoleum floor beneath us with a thud. While Darryl guffaws at what he knows just knocked me out of my head, I’m staring at the ceiling, mumbling every apology to the energies surrounding us to ignore the treacherous negativity that has just been laid bare at my feet. 

I know wholeheartedly that I am ridiculous. But energy exists in everything we do. Positive energy begets positivity. Negative energy begets negativity. My dreams are too big to risk with negativity. It’s a rule, a suspicion that’s rooted even deeper than wearing my socks inside out during every game I play. 

The rest of the lunch goes by with just light conversation after that. Darryl and Qi carry most of the conversation. I’m out of my head, Tristan is visibly confused by us, and Qiang keeps shooting apologetic looks at me like they know they popped a bubble somewhere. If it weren’t for Darryl and Qi steadily talking, I don’t know if we’d even make it through the rest of the lunch without dying of sheer awkwardness and tension. 

After a while, Qiang stands up and looks at Qi. “I’m sorry, I’ve got to run. I still have an online panel that I’ve got to get ready for. I’d still like to think about things a bit, but it’s been real,” they say, hugging Qi before dabbing everyone up and heading out. 

Before I can think it through or psyche myself out, I get up and jog out after them. “Hey, Qiang,” I call out to get their attention before they get in their car. 

Qiang turns and hooks me with a questioning eyebrow. “Um, I know I was awkward as fuck in there. Sorry, it just felt like a lot of pressure, you know. I know how much Qi wants you to move in, and I didn’t want to fuck it up, but I was awkward as hell, and I know I fucked it up. So, I was thinking maybe we could exchange numbers. Text a bit. You could get to know me in a more ‘me’ atmosphere instead of that awkward as hell lunch interview or whatever the fuck that was.”

Qiang looks at the ground for a moment before looking up and giving me a penetrating stare. “Doesn’t make much sense not to. Even if I don’t move in, it’s not like we’re not going to get thrown together often enough anyway, right?” they point out. I smile widely at that and hand them my phone. 

“We’ll definitely be seeing a lot of each other in the future,” I drop in a low voice that is so vulgarly flirty, even I’m insulted by it. I need to get this shit under control before I see them again.

Qiang drops my phone back in my hand. “No dick pics. I have no desire to get arrested for child pornography,” they say, and I know they’re making a joke, but it’s also a very clear line they’re drawing. They see right through me, and I know they’re right, too. This can’t happen, and the tease is enough to remind me of that. 

“Eighteen for the record, and I never send dick pics without consent,” I tell them, wanting them to know I got the message. 

They nod. “That’s good. There needs to be more consent kings. See ya soon,” they wave before getting in their car. 

I step back, letting them go. I need to talk to Darryl, and we need to talk to Tristan and clear the air with my bro. Bad blood and hurt feelings have no place between us, and I need to get rid of that shit sooner rather than later. And I need to figure out how to tuck this shit in, because we’re both right, we’re about to get thrown together a lot. I cannot afford that kind of distraction, because Qiang won’t just be a one-and-done. As much as I’d like that, I can’t do that to someone who is going to be living in the same house as me and is an integral part of my best bro’s life. I have to lock this shit up tight.