Iver’s Sphere Book Two: Marcus & Qiang (Currently Untitled) Chapter 3: Red Wine and Warm Summer Nights

Qiang’s POV

There are several things I expected this trip home to be. Spending a huge amount of time with my brother and his jock boyfriend was definitely one of them. However, I failed to take into account that said jock boyfriend would have jock friends. Which is an obvious oversight on my part, but even if that realization had crossed my mind, one of the jock friends shooting hungry eyes at me was definitely on my failed to foresee–let alone take account of–list. The fact that I have to keep on reminding myself that I absolutely hate his eyes on me, that it in no way makes my heart flutter, or my cheeks warm up at the attention, also failed to make it on that list. But here we are. 

I can feel those stupidly handsome eyes boring into the side of my head as I studiously ignore him and pretend like I’m paying attention to Dumb and Dumber cop cheap feels in the guise of a wrestling match in Tristan’s backyard. Qi graduated earlier today, and Tristan graduates tomorrow evening. But right now, all of us are sprawled out on Tristan’s expansive backyard with a few too many bottles of wine. 

Evidently, this is how Tristan and his two besties like to celebrate–with the boys’ parents in the house, keeping a watchful eye. Marcus and Darryl said something about going to a few parties sometimes, too, but according to them, it’s rare for Tristan to go to a party. It’s one of the things that Tristan, Qi, and Marcus have assured me of. Not that I’m opposed to parties, I’ve gone to several of the frat parties over the years. But the idea of living in a house that regularly hosts football afterparties would be a hard no for me. However, Marcus pointed out that while he can’t promise there won’t ever be an occasion where they’ll throw one, that it’ll definitely be a rarity.

He said knowing he’s the only one in the house who enjoys the afterparties would make him feel selfish to throw them there all the time. Especially since there are more than enough frat-hosted parties on campus. Of course, I already knew Qi isn’t a huge fan of parties, and I’m not exactly surprised to find that Tristan isn’t either. Despite being a championship quarterback with a face most people only ever dream about, he’s not an attention-seeking person at all, and being a bit reclusive and foregoing crowded party scenes definitely matches up to the guy I’ve gotten to know over the past couple of months. 

Qi’s not much of a drinker, and he’s already had a couple of glasses. His cheeks are a bit ruddier than normal, and he’s leaning against Tristan with Tristan’s massive arms wrapped around him. They are slightly swaying while watching Owen and Paxton make absolute asses of themselves. Qi must feel my gaze because his eyes flit up to meet mine, and there’s a happiness and contentment nestled within his face as he smiles at me that makes my heart feel almost too big to contain in my chest. 

These last few months have been hard for him. He had to really dig deep into how he feels things and try to unravel the very complicated tangles of emotions inside of him to figure this thing out with Tristan. There were a lot of insecurities and frustration, but he made it through, and the payout has been so satisfying to see. I’ve never seen Qi more at peace with himself and with how he feels things than he has been since embracing Tristan. Even though Tristan is a jock, he has proven that not all of them are dickheads. I’m so thankful Qi found a good one. 

“I’ve got ten-k on Owen,” Darryl shoots. 

“I’ll take it and up to twenty on Paxton,” Marcus counters. 

“You’re about to lose, Owen’s a tank,” Darryl hoots. 

I raise an eyebrow and take Owen in because in my head, he’s still the skinny pre-pubescent kid he was when I first met him. Owen and Paxton both befriended Qi in middle school, and their friendship has carried through high school–barely, but somehow against all odds, it has. Both he and Paxton are no longer the skinny kids I still see them as in my head. While Owen is definitely bulkier than Paxton, Paxton should never be underestimated. He’s sneaky and quick, and can catch Owen off-guard at a moment’s notice. Between Owen’s size and Paxton’s stealth, they are remarkably evenly matched for these wrestling matches. 

I don’t think they’ll ever grow out of this shit. They’ve been horsing around like children since they were children. The only thing that’s gotten more adult about them is their sleeping around habits and filthy, inappropriate jokes. Neither of them has the brain capacity to figure out what they want most is the one whose body they have their hands on during these wrestling matches with each other. Through and through, if you ever want to see two ‘straight’ dudes in denial, it’s these two. Fucking childish, both of them. I don’t know what Qi sees in them to keep them around, but even with their dickhead sense of humor and immature antics, Qi sticks resolutely to them. 

A flurry of movement, and Paxton flips Owen onto his back. “Got ya!” Paxton crows. 

A steady whoosh of air leaves Owen’s mouth before his eyes narrow into slits. “Dick-grabs as distractions are off limits, Pax. It doesn’t count!” he huffs out before looking towards Qi. “Qi!” he whines out as though Qi is the ref. 

However, Qi is currently lip-locked with Tristan, as is his new favorite thing to do lately. Qi was never much of a kisser, but it’s one of the many things he’s found he enjoys with Tristan and Tristan alone. It takes Owen calling his name two more times before Tristan finally lets Qi’s mouth go so he can engage with his friends. 

Not sure whether it’s the amount of wine he’s drunk or the company of Tristan’s arms around him, but Qi’s definitely feeling good as he shoots Owen a contented, rather rosy-cheeked smile. “Pax, you know dick-grabs are off-limits. Call or draw or begin again,” he says placatingly. And I just roll my eyes. Can’t believe he’s encouraging this nonsense, ridiculously besottedly happy or not. 

“There were no ground rules. It was an anything goes. Not my fault that Owen pops boners at the slightest touch,” Pax argues. 

“Any excuse to grab his dick,” I huff out under my breath. Pax raises an eyebrow at me like he’s gonna argue, but before he can, Marcus puts a glass of wine in Pax’s hand. 

“Come on, take a breath, recharge, and have a rematch. Without the dick-grab this time,” he says congenially. Pax rolls his eyes at me before turning back towards Owen, who is still pouting at the unfair dick-grab. 

I don’t even bother to watch their antics unfold because I already know Paxton will go over to Owen and pet his fragile ego until Owen is back up to form to wrestle again. Because in all the years I’ve known them, they’ve never kept their hands to themselves. 

I lift my glass of wine to my lips when I feel Marcus’s gaze come back to me. I don’t even have to look up to know his eyes are on me. I can feel the intensity of it, of him. There hasn’t been enough time for us to be close, per se, but we’ve been thrown together enough since that first lunch to talk a bit here and there, along with exchanging texts regularly to try and get used to each other. 

He’s quick to flirt, and just as quick to retract when he thinks he’s taking it too far. Which makes me think whatever crush he has on me is something unusual for him, which, quite frankly, understanding that, only makes this worse. I’d like to say it’s easy to keep lines drawn between us, but no matter how much I try to pretend he doesn’t affect me, I can only lie so much to myself. 

My eyes flit up to his because even though I shouldn’t, I can’t help it, especially knowing his eyes are already firmly planted on me. Our eyes lock, and hold, and a million things pass between us, and I know that he can see through me to the depth of my lies, too. Doesn’t mean I’ll stop repeating them, but I know he knows, and that makes all of this worse. 

The list of should nots far outweighs the shoulds. He’s Qi’s boyfriend’s best friend. He’s four years younger than me, barely eighteen. I’m less than a year away from graduating from university, while he hasn’t even set foot into university yet. He’s young, and he’ll be my housemate. I haven’t actually told Qi yet that I’m going to move in with them, but I don’t really think I can turn him down knowing he wants me to, and knowing I want this time to be close to him before I graduate, too. 

But that also means close quarters with Marcus, who is as immovable in Tristan’s life as I am in Qi’s. If shit goes south, we’ll have to swallow it down for the rest of our lives, or stop showing up for our most important people. That’s a huge risk that is not worth the fallout. And to tie the whole thing off with a bow, he’s a jock. Not just any jock, but a pretty, wide receiver, football jock–just like Kingston.

I’ve played this game before, and I already know how this shit ends. I barely survived it with Kingston, and that was with only seeing him a handful of times right after everything went down. I can’t imagine having to show up and play nice with the guy for the rest of my life. Fuck that. 

I know this. This irrevocable truth is etched into my brain like a tattoo. But that doesn’t mean my stomach is paying a damn bit of attention as it trembles beneath Marcus’s gaze. The heat that licks my spine to have those gorgeous obsidian eyes locked on me, the brazen openness in his gaze blatant and raw, while I’m fighting mine like my life depends on it. 

In a lot of ways, it feels like I am. Sex is not foreign to me. Not by a long shot. Unlike my acespec brother, I’m as allo as it gets. But I never get involved. It’s just sex. But I haven’t met someone who could light me up the way Marcus does with just a glance. Not since… no. Not tonight. I won’t ruin tonight for Qi by letting that fucker take up space in my head. It’s not even a fair comparison if I’m being honest. Because even he didn’t light me up quite as bright as Marcus does, and that is fucking terrifying. 

With that, my stomach does a random thu-thump movement, like it knows it’s not going to get its way and it’s pouting. But I ignore it and look away. In a world full of possibilities, this one can’t happen. 

Pax and Owen head back to an empty space in the lawn, both of them swaying a bit and getting ready for another round. 

“No dick-grabs, Pax,” Owen reiterates, and I can’t help but roll my eyes at that.

There’s a flurry of movements that I’m barely paying attention to when Paxton ends up on his back. 

“Goddamit, Owen. Goosing doesn’t count! Qi!” he hollers out, the offense almost laughable after what he did to Owen in their first match. 

“Another dirty grab to ease the pent-up sexual tension between them,” I mutter under my breath, earning a couple of side-eyes from Qi and Marcus. 

“If you two can’t play fair, then maybe you ought to just sit,” Qi says. 

“Still my point,” Owen calls.

“Doesn’t count when you cheat,” Paxton huffs.

Owen shoots Paxton a smug smile. “I didn’t cheat. We said no dick-grabs.” 

“It should go without saying–” Paxton argues.  

Owen’s smug smile only grows. “Well, obviously it didn’t–”

“It’s enough, guys, park it and do something else if you can’t play nice. You’re killing my buzz,” Qi grumbles a bit.  

“Yes, Mom,” the two of them call. 

“They take after your side,” Tristan mumbles humorously into Qi’s ear. 

Qi resolutely shakes his head. “Nope, absolutely not, I refuse. I’ll take credit for being their bestie, but no way in fuck am I claiming them as sons.” 

“I don’t know. Tristan would definitely make a hot daddy.” Owen pipes off, and that’s enough of that for me. 

“Nope, sibling-in-law icks. I do not need to picture my future brother-in-law as a daddy in any way, shape, or form. Thank you kindly,” I shake my head, stopping that conversation before it gets any worse. I can be happy for my brother without knowing all the details. 

“Spoilsport,” Paxton mutters under his breath. 

“Watch yourself, handsy, or I’ll kill your ability to use the boners you get from all those dick-grabs,” I retort.  

“So not–that’s not–” Paxton stutters out in horror. 

“Calm down, dude. Qiang’s just trying to get a rise out of you. You make it more suspicious by getting your back up,” Owen says, pulling a sullen Paxton down in the grass next to him. Paxton leans heavily into Owen’s side, and it really floors me that they are so completely unaware of themselves. 

“So,” Marcus startles the fuck out of me as his breath hits my ear. I don’t know when he moved that close, and I’m low-key ashamed that I let Owen and Paxton’s ridiculous antics distract me enough to allow Marcus the ability to do so. “Do you have a studio somewhere for your makeup channel?”

I barely hold in the sigh of relief at the normalcy of the inquiry. “Naw, I don’t make enough to justify the cost of that. Pretty much just paying off the remainder of my scholarship with what I do make so I can graduate debt-free.” 

Marcus nods before shifting to a more comfortable position next to me. “So then, where do you usually record?”

“Dorm room,” I breathe out, more than a little relieved at the space Marcus created when he moved. Just because I know better doesn’t mean it isn’t distracting as fuck to have him in my space. “Kind of sucks because the lighting isn’t that great and I don’t really have a dedicated space for it, so I’m always having to spend as much time setting up and taking down as I do recording the actual video,” I add, almost using the normalcy of the conversation as a way to regulate the rampant train of inappropriate thoughts his closeness shot into me. 

“So, having that second room could help then. You could turn it into a dedicated space and get special lights for better lighting, right?” he asks, his intense eyes searching mine. 

“It’s definitely a talking point in my head. Well, that and Qi, of course. But I don’t really know how much time Qi and I will really spend with how wrapped up in Tristan he is,” I sigh out, letting out one of my fears. 

I’ve been looking forward to being close to Qi again for so long; I didn’t really imagine a boyfriend being a part of that scenario, especially one who Qi seems remarkably incapable of not making out with as often as humanly possible. Not that I’m unhappy about their relationship at all, just that it’s an adjustment in the image of what I thought this last year was gonna be like, and really hoping I don’t get kind of brushed off into a corner. 

“I don’t think you need to worry about that. You’re his fucking hero. Pretty sure it’s universally impossible for him not to make time for you,” Marcus says, as though he can read my thoughts. 

“Well, I don’t know about all of that, but thanks for saying it,” I say, because I know Qi thinks the world of me, but I don’t always feel like I deserve it. 

“Not blowing smoke up your ass, it’s obvious that he thinks he’s the luckiest fucker on the planet because he got you for a sibling,” Marcus says, and I’m wondering if I’m showing more emotions on my face than normal tonight. Maybe I ought to slow down on the wine myself. Probably shouldn’t have touched it in the first place, with my stomach’s inappropriate thu-thumps whenever Marcus is around. Impaired judgement on top of pre-existing questionable judgement is a recipe for only one thing, and that’s a poison I’m not ready or willing to handle. 

“The feeling’s pretty mutual,” I say in a blase tone to mask how much the content of the conversation really means to me, or the million and one inside thoughts that are swirling around in my head. 

Marcus nods for a moment and turns to where Tristan and Qi are wrapped up tight, mouths fused together, and neither of them aware of their surroundings at all. 

“Yeah, not surprising. Qi is pretty great. Stoked that Tristan found someone like him,” he says in a serious tone that leaves no doubt Marcus means what he said. 

“I’m stoked that Qi found someone like Tristan,” I add.

“Yeah?” Marcus asks before turning to me with something deep brewing in his eyes. “You jealous at all, of what they have?”

I shake my head at that. “Nope. I’m happy for them that they have what they have because it’s important to them to have it. But I’m not interested in having what they have, so there is no jealousy in there. Just happiness for them,” I point out, relying on the logic I’ve been using for years now. Thing is, I’m really not interested in getting into a relationship because the fallouts aren’t worth it, but that doesn’t mean I don’t miss some of the benefits of being in one sometimes. 

“So, not a relationship person, then?” he pushes a bit, as though he can hear the wavering indecision in my thoughts. But even if the wavering hope of trusting anyone enough again to allow myself to have that still flares up from time to time, there’s no universe in which Marcus could ever be that person. 

“Nope, and if I haven’t misunderstood Tristan and Qi, then it’s the same for you, too,” I remind him, so he’ll backtrack away from this ridiculously unnecessary conversation. 

He looks away for a minute, like he’s reflecting on himself, or choosing his words, because he looks back at me and nods. “Yeah. Not opposed to it, just haven’t really felt anything that made me want to mess with my priorities.” 

“And that’s good. You’re barely eighteen. Let yourself be a child while you still can,” I point out. 

Marcus visibly stiffens at that, and his eyes narrow a bit, and I can tell he did not like my choice of words. “Not that much of a child. I have more adult responsibilities than I do childish ones. And it’s not like you’re that much older than me. We’re only four years apart,” he points out, and yeah, I definitely hit a nerve. 

“Those four years make a difference. You’re stepping into university while I’m getting ready to graduate from it. You’re stepping into that cushy existence between childhood and adulthood. I’m getting ready to step into the real world with real adult responsibilities,” I tell him, pointing out logistical facts so he’ll realize it wasn’t a jab at his maturity level, but an actual gap in our ages that’s enough to put us in different phases of life.  

His jaw tightens before he hooks me with a probing gaze. “Go tell Qi that he won’t face real adult responsibilities over the next few years because he’s not a real adult yet.”

I scrunch up my forehead at that, replaying what I said in my head to see where that came from. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that you're throwing out double standards in your reasoning. I know you consider Qi a responsible adult, but not me. We’re the same age, and you don’t even know me,” he points out, and I guess I deserved that. 

I let out a heavy sigh because he’s got a point. “How about you get to know me a bit before you throw out the childish assumptions. Whether we live together or not, we’re going to be in each other’s spheres. A lot. Wouldn’t it be easier to do that as friends instead of enemies?” Marcus adds. 

“Friends? Just friends?” I ask dubiously because the way he looks at me does not say friends. 

The tension leaves Marcus’s face as a huge, bright ass smile spreads across his face. “Of course, just friends,” he says before letting out a dramatic gasp and putting a shocked hand on his chest, “what else were you thinking? If you think you can’t handle my pretty face–”

“Oh my god,” I interrupt his vain little show. “You’re a smug one, aren’t you? Trust me, I can be your friend just fine.”

Marcus laughs and lies back in the grass with his arms under his head. “Just making sure, can’t have your rampant lust disquieting the domestic bliss of the house,” he teases, lightening the mood and turning the earlier tension into something much lighter now that he’s just fucking around and being an ass.  

“Hey, Tristan. I think your buddy here has had too much to drink. He’s having delusions of grandeur,” I call out. 

Before Tristan can say anything, Darryl comes walking up. “It doesn’t take booze to give him those delusions. He’s always been a smug fucker,” he says, plopping down heavily next to Marcus. 

“Et tu, Brute,” Marcus declares in a faux offended tone. 

Darryl ignores him and pokes him in the ribs. “Budge up, I’m tired,” he declares before laying his head on Marcus’s stomach.  

“Get your big ass head off of me,” Marcus grumbles playfully, trying to shove Darryl off of him.  

“But Marcus, you’re so comfortable,” Darryl whines and refuses to budge.  

The two of them devolve into playful banter, and I catch Qi’s eyes on me. I give him a dramatic eye-roll, and he shoots a beaming smile at me. Can’t believe this is about to be my life, but it’s worth it for Qi’s sunshine smiles.