Marcus Hogue Ch. 02

Marcus Hogue

Written by Aoife in collaboration with a fellow veteran, Ken

A/N - Welcome to this series. I hope you enjoy the journey of Marcus. This series will cross his life starting as a high school student and moving through his retirement years. Through the ups and downs of his life.

Some of these characters are in homage to real people; of course the names were changed from my youth and days past. This is mostly fictional and all of the character names have been changed. A few events in this series did occur. Enjoy the smutty ride and let me know what you think.

This series will be published as a novel but does include several categories including but not limited to Erotic Couplings, Group Sex, Incest /Taboo, Non-Consensual/BDSM, Mature, and Romance. This series will cross genres just as life crosses many genres.

Big thanks to Olwen for her editing and suggestions. Any remaining mistakes are my own; my eyes aren't quite what they used to be.

Chapter 2 - June 1976

The first time I walked into the Terrapin athletic facility, it hit me that this was no longer high school ball.

The weight room alone looked like it belonged to a pro team. There were rows and rows of weight racks, Olympic plates stacked like walls, players already mid-set with coaches barking at them for form corrections. I'd gotten used to being the biggest, fastest guy on the field. Not here. Here, everybody looked like they'd been training since birth.

And I was one of them now.

Summer workouts started early, the sun still rising, air still cool. Conditioning, lifting, drills, then meetings. This coaching staff didn't believe in easing into anything. Hell, they just came off of a Cotton Bowl championship. There were going to be no shortcuts.

But it wasn't just about reps or weight. It was also mental. It was about showing up on time, looking your teammates in the eye, keeping pace even when your legs felt like cement. It was about proving that you belonged here.

And I was determined to prove it.

On the nights, I thought about calling my Aunt Rose, I just did more pushups. When I thought about Chelle, I would do sit-ups. I needed to break those thoughts and forget about them, they hadn't reached out to me and that is what upset me as well as motivated me the most.

I needed something, I needed a break, I needed... well you know what I needed. Then again, I needed to focus. I needed something to look forward to, something that could bring a positive memory, even with all the positivity around me I needed something more.

Who knew I would find it when I wasn't even looking.

I was in the groove as we flipped the calendar to August. Just before the first whistle blew, I stood on the field, helmet in hand, and told myself the same thing I did every day; you belong here. And now it was truly time to show them why.

The freshman and bench players did our walk-throughs and then stood on the sidelines. We watched as the upper class man ran plays and drills.

I watched the tight ends each and every play. I watched Miles Branderson, a junior and the starting tight end every play but then I saw it happen as before anyone else.

Miles cut to his left but his knee buckled and moved to the right. I watched it as if in slow motion as the screams Miles let out were more painful sounding than any imaginable thing I had heard in all my years.

The training staff ran to him as did the coaches and other starters. They circled around him giving him what was needed, support and brotherhood, fellowship and yes, love. We all watched in silence when she was carted off the field. Then I heard my name.

"HOGUE!" I looked up and saw the Receivers Coach waving at me. "Get your ass over here, let's go!"

I pulled on my helmet and ran as fast as I could. I stepped up and listened to instructions.

"Simple drills, up and out, seven yards; that's it go!" The coach barked.

I stood on the line and watched the movement of the quarterback's hands when the ball was snapped. I took off. I sprinted seven yards and cut. The ball was a little delayed getting to me. I caught it and turned to end the play.

I ran back to the line and waited for my next turn. When it came I watched again, I didn't listen, listening to the quarterback except for an audible will get you in trouble. When the ball was snapped I made my move. Just like before, seven yards I cut and had to wait on the ball. I caught it and then went back to the line.

The whistle blew and everyone huddled up. We listened to the coach and they were released to our respective coaches. I was heading over to the receivers group when I heard my name called. I turned; it was Mark Manges, the junior year starting quarterback.

I stepped towards him. "Yes Sir Mark?"

The older player looked at me. "Hey listen, watch your pace. Tomorrow I will hit you faster but stay sharp. I need your speed." He slapped my shoulder pad, turned and ran the other way.

I caught up with the receivers and sat in that final meeting. When that was completed; we hit the showers. I was dressing when I was called into the larger conference room. I walked in and was surprised to see Coach Claiborne, our Offensive Coordinator, the Receivers Coach and our QB standing there.

"Coach, Sirs, Mark." I mumbled.

Mark spoke up. "Can you fly? Are you really quick?"

"Not like a wide-out but yeah for a tight end I can."

The coach spoke next. "Kid I told you in your Aunt's living room that I saw skills but you hit the pattern and had to wait on the ball. That's an extra 2 or 3 yards each play."

"Yes sir." I paused "But sir that is only if they tackle me. I am tall but I have a good sense to stay low, Coach."

Coach Clairborne looked at the Receivers coach. "Done." In one word my entire life changed. At that moment my entire life shifted and I wasn't fully aware how much it would shift for its betterment.

~~~

September 9, 1976 - College Park, MD

I woke up Thursday morning before the sun was even up and got dressed, heading straight to the weight room. I wasn't the only one there were about thirty guys already there, including the training staff. I eased into my usual routine: stretches, warm-ups, and then hit the free weights.

An hour later, I wrapped up my lift and swapped into my running shoes. Outside, I hit the training field and started running yardage routes, five yards, then ten, twenty, thirty. A few other guys joined in. Just when I caught my breath, I started the sequence all over again. I was finishing my third set when I heard a whistle.

I stood up, breathing hard, and turned to see the Receivers Coach waving me over. I jogged toward him.

"Yes, Coach?" I asked, still catching my breath.

"Coach and I want to see you in his office. Shower up and get dressed. You've got twenty minutes."

I nodded and sprinted back inside.

Exactly twenty minutes later, I knocked on Coach's office door. He waved me in, and I noticed the rest of the coaching staff gathered around his small table. There was also a young woman sitting quietly with them.

"Marcus," Coach said, "we're impressed. And with Branderson's season-ending injury, you're starting on Saturday against Richmond." He paused.

"Yes sir," I replied.

"Because of that, and since you're a freshman, you're getting assigned a student tutor. I see here you're majoring in Biology." He glanced down at a sheet of paper. "Dorothy here is from Student Affairs. She'll be your tutor."

I looked over at her. All I could really see was a cascade of chestnut curls falling over her shoulders.

"Hello, Dorothy," I said quietly.

She smiled and gave a small nod.

"She'll also report back to us if there are any grade issues," Coach continued. "If there are, you'll be benched."

That got my attention. "There won't be any issues, Coach."

"Good. Both of you get out. I expect the library to be your second home now."

Dorothy stood, and I followed her out of the office. We barely got six steps before she grabbed my hand and pulled me into one of the empty offices nearby. She sat me at a table, opened a notebook, and got right to it.

"Okay," she began, "we'll spend Sunday afternoons in the library. I have your class schedule here. We'll meet Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday for study sessions." She turned to face me. "And don't waste my time. If you're not serious, I'll report back. This is part of my education program, and I'm not here to babysit."

I sat there quietly, listening as she ran through everything again, my schedule, our study plan, expectations. Then she pulled out a map of campus and started explaining logistics.

"Are you going to take notes?" she snapped.

I nodded. "If you could spare a pencil and some paper, I would. I was pulled straight from practice without any warning about this meeting, or that I'd need to take notes."

She handed me a pen and a pad. "I'm aware of my schedule," I said. "I've been on campus since June and in class for two weeks now. Which library are we meeting at, Dorothy?"

She exhaled and looked down for a second before speaking. "The last athlete I helped wasted my time. I'm sorry for being harsh. Let's start over, if that's okay."

We went over everything again, study times, library meetings. When we were finished, I thanked her. I told her I had English 101 in thirty minutes and needed to head across campus. I stood, told her I'd see her at the library at six tonight, and left.

We had film study. After that, I made my way over to the library. Dorothy had reserved a room. We sat and talked through the challenges I was having so far in my classes.

I explained that I was managing the assignments, but choosing Accounting might've been a mistake. The Admissions Department had worked with me to keep things manageable with my football schedule, but I was willing to take summer classes if that's what it would take to graduate on time.

As we were leaving the library that night I noticed Dorothy carried herself with the calm assurance of someone who had already figured out who she was. A junior and two years ahead of me, she had the kind of quiet confidence that didn't need to raise its voice to be heard. Her chestnut curls were the first thing I noticed thick, wild in a way that felt deliberate, cascading over her shoulders like they had a mind of their own.

She wore a fitted navy-blue blazer over a soft cream blouse; sleeves rolled just enough to hint she wasn't afraid to get serious about whatever she was working on.

Dark jeans and clean white sneakers gave her this effortless look, but grounded. A silver watch hugged her wrist, and the leather bag slung over her shoulder looked like it had been through more study sessions and coffee-fueled nights than most freshmen could imagine.

Her eyes, a kind of stormy hazel, were sharp behind a pair of simple, wire-rimmed glasses, always focused, always calculating. She didn't smile much at first, but when she did, it was subtle, thoughtful, like she was measuring whether you'd earned it.

Dorothy was the kind of woman who didn't just take up space; she reshaped the energy of the room. You could tell she was smart before she even opened her mouth, and when she did speak, it was clear she didn't waste words. There was something intense about her. She was focused, disciplined but underneath all that, I could sense something warmer. A softness she kept tucked away, like she didn't give it out easily.

I didn't know it yet, but this was someone who was going to matter to me, someone who'd start off as my tutor and eventually become something far more complicated... and far more important.

Six Weeks Later

I felt good after Saturday's win over Wake Forest. I made a few solid catches, found the end zone, and most importantly, made up for that fumble against Syracuse last week. That had been eating at me. Sunday afternoon, I showed up early for my study session with Dorothy.

I was already in the room, hunched over my Early American History textbook. Not my favorite subject, but it's a required course, so I was grinding through it. I was deep into some colonial-era nonsense when I heard the door open and looked up.

It was Dorothy.

Over the past six weeks, she'd gone from being cold and clinical to... well, maybe not warm, but definitely more relaxed around me. She still didn't play around, but she smiled more, and there was a softness creeping into her voice. She walked in, set her bag down, and started unpacking her books. Then she looked at me and smiled.

"Okay, pop quiz time. Accounting 101. Move your stuff; let's see what you've got." She pulled a sheet of paper from her notebook and slid it in front of me. "You can use the calculator if you want, but I'd rather you show your work on paper."

I nodded and took the quiz. Ten questions, nothing crazy. Basic accounting principles, some stuff about debt versus credit. I knew she was trying to psych me out with the calculator, but I didn't bite. I didn't need it.

When I handed the sheet back to her, she glanced over it, then started grading. Her smile widened a little as her eyes moved down the page. Then she scribbled something at the bottom and handed it back to me.

I looked at what she wrote: "10/10. Nice work. You almost deserve a prize"

I was flabbergasted, was she flirting with me? I crumpled the sheet, and went back to my reading. We studied for about another hour before Dorothy sat back and stretched.

"I'm tired. Let's wrap it up for tonight," she said.

I closed my book and stood. "Thanks, Dorothy."

"You're welcome," she said. "Walk me to my car? It's dark out."

She smiled as she packed up, and I wasn't about to say no. We walked down the steps and outside. The sky had slipped into twilight. I stayed close, but gave her space, matching her pace as we headed to the lot. I purposefully walked slowly; I had at least ten inches on her. Her shorter legs couldn't keep up.

When we reached her car, she turned toward me. "I haven't eaten. I know you've got some kind of athlete diet or whatever, but would you join me for dinner?"

I nodded.

She handed me the keys. I unlocked her door, opened it for her, and then circled around to the passenger side once she was settled in. I gave her the keys. She started the car and we pulled out of the lot.

I didn't know where she was taking us, but I recognized the area as we drove east, away from campus. Eventually, she pulled into a cozy-looking mom-and-pop restaurant.

She turned off the engine and sat there for a second, the quiet filling the space between us. In the soft glow of the overhead parking lot lights, I really saw her. The way her curls framed her face like they were meant to. The way her eyes, usually sharp and calculating when she was teaching, had this calm, thoughtful look now. Her skin caught the warm amber light and seemed to glow. There was something effortless about the way she sat there confident, unbothered, like she belonged in every room she walked into and didn't need to prove it.

I couldn't look away. Not in a creepy way, just taking it all in. The sharp edges of her presence had softened, and what I saw now wasn't just a good tutor or someone who knew how to keep me in line academically, it was a woman who shined without even trying.

She must've felt me watching, because she turned her head slightly and caught me. Her lips twitched into a smile, but then she ducked her head, letting her curls fall forward like a curtain.

"Don't do that," I said, surprising even myself a little.

She looked up, halfway hiding behind her hair. "Do what?"

"Hide your smile," I said. "Don't. It's a good look on you."

"Are you flirting with your tutor?" She asked.

I shrugged.

She held my gaze for a second, maybe deciding how to take it. Then she shook her head slightly, biting back a grin she couldn't quite erase. I didn't push it. Just opened my door and got out, walking around to open hers. When she stepped out and stood beside me, there was a different kind of quiet between us, warmer, charged, and somehow easy all at once.

Dinner ended later than I expected not because the food was slow, but because we lingered. Conversation kept flowing. I saw new sides of Dorothy I hadn't caught during study sessions. She had stories, a dry sense of humor that hit unexpectedly and landed perfectly. She laughed at mine too, not just a polite chuckle, but real laughter that reached her eyes.

As we finished our meal and prepared to leave she smiled. "You aren't just some dumb jock are you?"

I shook my head then asked. "Why would you think that?"

She smiled. "Maybe I need to be assigned to you next semester... just to make sure you are okay."

I winked. "Are you flirting with me?"

It was her turn to blush again but this time she smiled and pointed her finger at me. "Don't say it."

When we walked out of the restaurant, the air had cooled. Streetlights cast soft shadows across the lot. She didn't rush to unlock the car. Neither did I. But eventually, she did, and we got in. The ride back was quieter than the drive out, but not awkward. It was the kind of quiet that sits comfortably between two people who don't need to fill space with noise.

About halfway back to campus, I turned a little in my seat to face her. "You know," I said, "I've seen you a lot over the last six weeks and tonight... I don't know. It's different."

She glanced at me, one hand lightly on the wheel. "Different how?"

"You looked... I don't even know the word. Radiant, maybe. That sounds corny. But yeah. Like, there was something about you tonight."

She didn't say anything right away, but I caught the way her mouth curved slightly and her cheeks flushed, just under the streetlight cutting through the windshield.

"There it is again," I said, smiling. "The blush."

She shook her head, half-laughing. "I do not blush."

"You do," I said. "And you try to hide it every time. But it suits you."

Dorothy kept her eyes on the road, but I could tell she was smiling. Her posture relaxed just a little, like maybe she wasn't used to compliments that weren't just words but something someone actually meant.

We pulled onto campus, the familiar buildings coming into view. She slowed near my dorm.

"I really liked this," I said before she could shift the car into Park. "Just... being out with you. It was nice just talking and laughing. I'd like to do it again."

She looked over at me then. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," I said. "No quiz, no flashcards. Just... us."

Dorothy nodded slowly. "I'd like that too."

For a second, neither of us moved. I didn't want to rush it, didn't want to mess up the balance we had, but I also didn't want to pretend like something wasn't happening between us. So I reached for the door handle, paused, and looked back at her.

"Thanks for tonight."

"Anytime," she said, and this time, she didn't hide her smile.

~~~

By the end of November, the regular season was in the books. We closed it out strong, and now we were bowl-bound, our opponent, the University of Houston, early February. There was a buzz around campus, especially in the athletic dorms, but for me, all of that could wait.

Finals were coming fast. My focus shifted from the field to the books. I needed all A's.

I was grinding early in the morning while still working out. I attended classes and then every night studying. Dorothy and I changed our schedule; we met every evening including Saturdays most of the time to study, sometimes just to be around each other.

We'd gone out three more times since that first dinner, each one a little more comfortable, a little closer. But that first kiss? Still hanging there, unspoken, almost like it was waiting for the right moment.

Tonight we were back in our usual room in the library, it was late. I had a final in Accounting the next morning, and I'd just finished the last mock test she'd printed out for me.

Dorothy leaned back in her chair, stretching. "Alright, Marcus. Let's see how you did."

She took the packet, her eyes scanning the pages. She didn't say anything at first, just flipped through, pen tapping the margin. Then she stopped on the last page and looked at me over the top of the paper.

"Ninety-four," she said. "Again."

I fumed. "Damn!" I was upset. "That's three in a row."

"No!" Her hand reached for mine and held it. "Hey that is three in a row, all A's."

I shrugged. "I am sorry you deserve better, you are a great tutor, I keep failing you."

Dorothy set the paper down and tilted her head slightly. "You know..." she said softly, her voice dipping into something slower, warmer. "If you keep this up, you might just earn yourself a reward."

I hesitated and raised an eyebrow. "A reward, huh? Like what extra study materials? Another pop quiz?"

She smirked, leaned forward just enough to close the space between us a little. "No... something a little more... motivational."

I laughed, partly to defuse the tension, but my heart was already racing. "You're gonna have to be more specific, Dorothy."

She looked me dead in the eye, still smiling the kind of smile you feel in your chest. "Let's just say... you keep pulling A's, I might have something in mind that isn't printed on paper."

My breath caught just a bit, and for a second, the whole room felt still. "I'm listening," I said, voice low.

She held my gaze, then glanced away like she'd said too much but the blush gave her away.

"There it is again," I said. "You really need to stop acting like you're not the one making all the rules."

Dorothy looked back at me; eyes softer now, voice almost a whisper. "Maybe I'm just waiting to see if you're ready to break one."

I didn't move. Didn't rush. Just let the words hang there, charged and unfinished like the moment itself.

She looked at me. "Marcus, are you for real? You have to know what I am talking about." She winked.

"Dorothy, I do know and trust me, I would cherish that more than anything but..." I paused.

"What? I am not being that bashful am I?" She winked.

"You... I... Ugh," I shrugged. "Dorothy, let's just say I was a failure in a relationship and I wouldn't know what to do. I wouldn't want to hurt you. You are special to me." I lowered my head.

"Then maybe I can tutor you in a relationship as well. Since I am assigned as your tutor for the next semester we will just have to work harder when we come back from the holiday break." She smiled and winked at me. "Deal?"

"Deal." She held my hand a few moments more. "Okay Early American History review. Let's go."

~~~

Five days after the account final, the grades were posted. I remember walking slowly down the hallway, the cold tile echoing each step, until I stood in front of the bulletin board just outside our classroom. My eyes scanned the list, Hogue, M. There I was, I hesitated, heart thudding, and traced my finger along the row until it stopped on the number.

98%. I blinked. I earned an A.

A week later, I turned in my final for Early American History, a paper I poured everything into. I covered the pivotal moments: the 15th Amendment, Yellowstone's creation, the Great Chicago Fire. Dorothy had reviewed it with me, twice actually. She gave feedback on my footnotes, detailed, precise, and I followed every suggestion. I wouldn't know the grade until after Christmas. For P. E., at least, I had already gotten my A. One last class left, Biology.

Dorothy and I agreed to meet one more time before leaving for Christmas break. She asked if we could meet earlier on Thursday and, a bit mysteriously, suggested I wear a button-down and slacks. I raised an eyebrow at that, but didn't question it too much.

I stepped out of the dorm into the cold December air. There she was, waiting in her car, the engine running, soft light glowing from within. I opened the door and slipped into the passenger seat. The dome light lit up her face, she smiled, and then just like that, the smile faded.

"What?" I asked my stomach turning. "Did I do something wrong?"

"It... it's nothing," she said, but her voice didn't match the words. Her smile had become a frown.

I turned toward her fully, a strange instinct rushing over me, maybe a message from my mom, wherever she was now. I reached for her hand and cupped her cheek.

"Dorothy, what's wrong?"

She hesitated, then muttered, "I just... I hoped you would've shaved for our date."

I blinked. "Date?" I echoed voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry... I didn't realize."

She started to apologize, but I gently placed a finger on her lips. "Give me five minutes. Please, don't leave."

I ran back to the dorm, grabbed my razor and shave cream, and sprinted to the bathroom. It wasn't the best shave I'd ever done, but it was something. Moments later, I was back in the car, breathless. This time, when the dome light came on, her smile returned.

She touched my cheek, leaned in, and kissed it, soft and warm. I thought I heard her whisper something, but her lips had already pulled away. Our eyes locked, and her blush deepened.

"Thank you, Marcus," she whispered, then put the car in drive. We pulled away.

She took me to a restaurant I never would've chosen myself, nice, upscale, romantic. I helped her from the car and only then noticed her heels; her dress was calf-length, fitted, elegant. I pulled out her chair for her, and when she glanced back at me, cheeks pink, I winked.

The waiter brought water and fresh bread. I scanned the menu, suddenly sweating when I noticed there were no prices, just "market price" next to the lobster. I went safe and chose chicken parmesan. She ordered veal.

We chatted easily at first. I felt warm, almost happy, as if I belonged in that place with her. But then, she asked:

"So what are your plans for Christmas break? When will you be back?"

I smiled, tried to keep it light. "No real plans. I'll come back when the dorms reopen probably the second. Got practice for the Bowl Game."

She pressed further. "What about family traditions? Anything special?"

That's when it hit me, hard and fast, like falling through ice. My smile faded. I dropped my gaze and took a long breath. "No traditions," I said quietly. "Nothing special."

I picked up my water, my voice barely audible. "My friend Danny'll pick me up. I'll hang out with him and a few others." I took a sip and added, "I'll couch surf until I come back."

She stared at me, stunned. "Couch surf? What do you mean? Won't you be with your family?"

I felt a cold wind pass through me, though we were inside. My chest tightened. "My mom... passed away last January. Cancer. My dad's been gone since I was twelve." I forced the words out, like glass scraping my throat. "I don't have a family."

Her hand reached for mine, warm and soft. "Marcus... I didn't know. I'm so sorry."

I nodded but couldn't meet her eyes. Thankfully, the salads arrived, giving me an excuse not to speak. I barely touched mine. The rest of the evening, I focused on being kind, attentive but my thoughts were somewhere else. Somewhere cold. Somewhere empty.

When the check came, I opened the little leather folder and slid the cash inside without flinching. It cost me three days of food. But she was worth it. Every cent.

I helped her from her chair and to the car. And then out of nowhere she stood on her toes and kissed me. Gently. Twice.

"Thank you for dinner," she whispered. "I was ready to pay."

Later, parked outside the dorm, I leaned toward her. "Dorothy, I... may I kiss you? I mean really kiss you?"

Her blush deepened. "I've been waiting for that since Thanksgiving."

I kissed her. My hands on her cheeks. Her breath on mine. And then, she kissed me deeper. Her tongue brushed my lips. I didn't hold back. In that moment, the world disappeared, just her and me, alone in the warmth of her car.

She pulled back, her hand flat against my chest, her eyes still closed. "You're not like other boys I've dated."

I smiled and kissed her one more time. "That's because I'm still learning from the best tutor I've ever had."

I stepped out into the cold and walked to my dorm room. Empty, quiet, but not quite as lonely as before.

Later, I heard a knock. Her voice.

"One moment," I groaned. I threw on sweatpants, opened the door, shielding my eyes from the light.

"Let me in, we need to talk." She didn't wait for a response. She stepped inside.

Dorothy stood in the middle of my dorm room like she belonged there. Not as a guest, more like someone stepping into a space that already held a piece of her. She turned slowly, taking it all in: my textbooks, the crumpled hoodie, the bed was unkempt from me just waking.

She pulled off her long winter coat. She was wearing sweatpants and a sweatshirt as well. "I talked to my parents," she said, her voice soft but certain.

I rubbed at my tired eyes, still half in the fog of sleep. "About what?"

"You," she replied. "They want you to come home with me for Christmas."

My heart dropped into my stomach. I hadn't even processed her being here and now she was saying this. "No!"

She looked at me and stood firm. She nodded her head, "Marcus, don't..."

I interrupted her "Dorothy..."

"No, listen I spoke with them. They know enough to know you shouldn't be couch surfing over break. They want you to be somewhere warm, with people who care."

I stood there, silent. Staring. I didn't move. Didn't breathe. "You barely know me," I said finally.

She smiled a little, stepping closer. "I know enough. And the rest? I want to learn."

I shook my head slowly. "This is moving fast. Too fast."

"It's not a marriage proposal, Marcus," she said, her voice dropping into something gentler. "It's Christmas. And it's a family who'd be lucky to have you in their home, even if it's just for a few days."

I looked away. My hands went into my pockets. "You don't understand. I've been an outsider before. I've shown up with nowhere else to go and recently that ended really badly. And even if people are kind, I do not want to be the charity case in their home."

Her voice didn't flinch. "This isn't charity. It's an invitation. One you deserve."

She stepped in, closer still, and reached for my hand. Her fingers threaded through mine, warm, sure.

"Sit with me?" she asked.

I didn't answer. I just followed her as she sat on the edge of my unmade bed. I sat next to her, our legs barely touching at first, until I felt her shift ever so slightly closer. Her thumb ran slow arcs over my knuckles.

"I don't want you to be alone this Christmas," she whispered.

"II is what it is," I said, quieter than I meant to.

She turned her body toward me, and I followed her lead. Her other hand rested on my thigh, gentle and grounding.

"I've... " she said. "I've gotten used to you. I miss you when we're not together. And when we are, I don't want it to end."

My breath caught. Her words stripped something raw and fragile open in me. I looked at her, and her gaze locked on mine, clear, burning, unafraid.

"I want more than a holiday 'yes,' Marcus," she said her voice soft but weighted. "I want you."

She leaned forward, her forehead brushing against mine, her breath warm on my lips. "And not just for Christmas."

Her lips found mine, soft, searching, slow. It wasn't just a kiss; it was her pouring something unspoken into me. I kissed her back, hands reaching to her waist, holding her steady because I sure as hell wasn't.

She stood and turned and shifted. Dorothy stepped forward and straddled my lap and sat down without hesitation, like she'd been waiting to be here all this time. My arms slid around her instinctively, drawing her closer. I could feel her heartbeat through her sweater, pressed against my chest. Fast. Nervous. Like mine.

Her kiss deepened, still tender, but with hunger now. Her tongue teased the edge of my mouth, and I let her in, opening to her, losing myself in the taste of her. I kissed her back harder, needing more. Her hands slid up under my shirt, fingers splayed against my skin. I trembled, not from fear, but from being truly seen and still wanted.

She pulled away, just enough to speak. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips pink and swollen.

"I've wanted this. You. Not just for tonight. Not just in your room. I want to be close, Marcus. I want to feel all of you, not just your thoughts or your words or your loneliness."

I could barely breathe. "You sure?"

Her fingers brushed my cheek, trailing to my jaw. "I've never been surer."

I looked at her, really looking at her. This wasn't about pressure or impulse. It was about choosing each other, right here, in this imperfect, beautiful moment.

"I want you too," I whispered. "Not just tonight. Not just now."

She kissed me again, deeper this time, her body melting into mine.

I don't remember how long we stayed like that, holding each other, mouths meeting and parting like we were discovering something new with every kiss. Time stopped meaning anything. It was just her, just me. The sound of our breathing, the soft creak of the bed beneath us, and the occasional hum she let out when my hand moved along her back.

Her sweatshirt was softer than mine; it was soft under my palms, but not as soft as the skin I imagined underneath.

She pulled back just slightly, her forehead resting against mine, her eyes still closed. "Can I...?" she asked, her fingers playing with the hem of my shirt.

I nodded. I couldn't trust my voice. I lifted my arms, and she pulled my shirt over my head, slow and careful. She placed it to the side as if setting it there meant something. And in that small act, I felt more wanted than I ever had in my life.

Her eyes moved over my chest, her touch following seconds later, light fingers tracing along my collarbone, over my chest, her hands flat on my chest, she leaned in and kissed me.

Dorothy pulled back, her eyes locked on my body as if she was memorizing me. I didn't flinch. I didn't shrink away. Not with her.

"Your turn," I whispered.

She gave me a nervous little smile but it was the kind of nervousness that comes from wanting something so badly it almost scares you. Her eyes didn't leave mine as she reached for the hem of her sweatshirt. Slowly, deliberately, she lifted it over her head.

As the fabric rose, revealing the bare skin of her stomach, then her ribs, my breath caught. I watched every movement, frozen in awe. Her bra was plain white cotton, nothing fancy, but it didn't matter. It was her. It was Dorothy. And she was choosing to share this part of herself with me.

She paused for just a second, meeting my gaze.

I saw it then, desire, yes, but also vulnerability, trust, a deep ache that mirrored my own.

I nodded, barely, and she pulled the sweatshirt the rest of the way off. I took it from her and folded it carefully, placing it to the side like it was something sacred. Because it was.

She shifted in my lap, her legs straddling mine, her body so close I could feel the warmth radiating off her skin. I slid my arms around her, pulling her in, chest to chest, skin to skin. My heartbeat thudded against hers.

Her breath hitched, and she whispered, "Touch me, Marcus."

I did gently, slowly my hands resting first at her waist, then sliding upward, fingers skimming the edge of her bra. I looked into her eyes again, silent, asking.

"Yes," she breathed. "Please. I need to feel you. All of you."

Her hands moved too, not hesitating anymore. She touched me like she'd been holding herself back for weeks and couldn't anymore, her fingers exploring my chest, my shoulders, my back, digging in with quiet desperation. Her mouth found mine and she kissed me with a hunger that made my whole body pulse.

She wasn't just kissing me, she was consuming me. Her lips parted, her tongue tangled with mine, and her body pressed tighter, like she wanted to fuse with me.

I moaned into her mouth as she rocked her hips against mine, deliberate, teasing. Her breasts rubbed against my chest, and I felt every inch of her heat and softness through the thin layers that still separated us. My cock throbbed beneath her, growing harder with every breath.

She pulled back just enough to look at me, her voice trembling but certain. "I think about you all the time. At night, when I'm alone. I've wanted this for so long."

My throat tightened. I couldn't speak, I could only kiss her again, deeper, with everything I felt.

Her hands reached behind her back.

"Wait, Dorothy, you don't have to"

She silenced me with a smile, eyes dark and burning. "I want to, Marcus. I've never wanted anyone like this."

The clasp came undone with a quiet snap. She slipped her straps off and let the bra fall, her bare breasts pressing fully into me as she leaned forward, wrapping her arms around my neck.

I groaned at the sensation, soft skin against mine, her nipples brushing my chest and cupped one of her breasts, reverently, my thumb stroking over her.

She gasped, her body arching into my hand, and her lips returned to mine with a fevered need. "God, you make me feel like I'm going to come just from kissing you," she whispered against my mouth.

She began grinding harder, rocking her hips into me with rhythm and pressure that made me dizzy. Her hands clutched at my back, her nails scraping just enough to send shivers down my spine.

"Marcus," she moaned. "I need you to hold me tight. Don't let go. Not tonight."

"I won't," I whispered into her skin. "I swear."

Her movements grew faster, her breathing frantic, her kisses wild. Her moans spilled into my ear, raw and helpless. She buried her face in my neck as her whole body started to tremble. Then suddenly she gasped, cried out softly, and wrapped herself around me as her orgasm tore through her. I held her through it, kissing her cheek, her temple, her hair.

Her body relaxed against mine, trembling and glowing, and I could still feel the heat in her every breath. I stood, cradling her against my chest, and turned us toward the bed. I laid her down carefully, brushing the hair from her face, and kissed her forehead.

"Let me get you a glass of water," I whispered.

"No," she said, still breathless. Her hand reached out to mine. "Please just stay. Lay with me."

I nodded, smiling, and kissed her lips. "I'll be right back."

I poured a glass of water from the fridge and set it on the nightstand. Then I slipped off my sweatpants and slid under the blanket beside her.

She curled into me immediately, her head resting over my heart, her arm across my chest, her leg tangling with mine. She was warm, and soft, and mine.

"I wanted this so much," she whispered, fingers trailing across my ribs. "And not just tonight. You feel like home to me, Marcus."

My throat tightened. I kissed the top of her head, pulled her tighter against me, and closed my eyes.

~~~

I woke slowly, as if rising through layers of warmth and light. The first thing I felt was her full, naked unguarded body pressed to mine. Skin to skin. Breath to breath.

Dorothy lay against me, her leg hooked over mine, her bare form soft and warm in the early gray of morning. My arm was around her shoulders; her cheek nestled against my chest. But what woke me wasn't just her nearness, it was the way her fingers were gently moving. Exploring.

Her touch wasn't hurried. It was deliberate and intimate. A soft caress along my stomach that slipped lower, curious and careful, as though she was memorizing the shape of me in the quiet stillness. I kept my breathing steady, not out of fear or hesitation but awe.

I looked down, meeting her eyes. She was already watching me, biting her bottom lip slightly, her gaze darker than the night before, more certain. She didn't say anything at first. Her fingers moved a little more boldly, and I swallowed a groan, my hand instinctively tightening around her shoulder.

"Dorothy..." I whispered, unsure whether it was a question or a plea.

She smiled softly. "Shh," she breathed. "You made me feel so much last night, Marcus. I just... I want to give that back to you. I want to know what it's like to make you lose yourself a little."

Her fingers dipped beneath the waistband of my boxers again, and this time she tugged gently. I hesitated, not from discomfort, but from the sheer weight of how much I wanted her and how much this moment meant. But she paused too, giving me the space to say no, or to pull away.

I didn't. I lifted my hips slightly to help her.

She slid my boxers down slowly, eyes widening as she revealed more of me, her breath catching in a way that made my pulse skip. For a second, she froze, not in fear, but something closer to wonder. Her fingers fluttered against my skin, reverent, like she didn't quite believe this was real.

"God, Marcus," she whispered, half under her breath. "You're... really big." She smiled with a mix of shyness and heat, a little awed and entirely present. "You're... just beautiful."

I felt my throat tighten. No one had ever said that to me before, even Rose and Chelle, not like that. Not while looking at me like I was something they wanted to cherish.

I touched her cheek, brushing her hair back behind her ear. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to," I said gently. "Just being here with you... it's already more than I ever thought I'd have."

Her eyes softened, and she leaned up to kiss me, slow, sensual, and full of promise. She pressed her body closer, and I could feel the shift in her not just desire, but tenderness, intention.

"I want this," she whispered against my lips. "I want you."

And in that moment, every fear I'd carried about moving too fast, about being too much, about not deserving something this good fell away. All that was left was her. And us, wrapped in each other.

Dorothy lifted her leg and slowly moved it over top straddling me. She came to rest on top of me.

"If you were any taller this wouldn't work Marcus." She kissed my neck, then down my throat and as she lifted her lower body from me, her hand partially wrapped around my length and girth.

"Dorothy, are you safe?" I asked.

She lifted her head and looked in my eyes. She smiled wider. "Now can you see why I am so enthralled with you?" She moved with ease my cock across her tiny opening.

I groaned as I felt her wetness across the top of my cock. She paused and pressed the tip at her entrance. I felt her breath on my chest as her forehead rested on it. Dorothy lifted her hips again as slowly moved my cock, wetting it.

She pressed the tip to her entrance again and held it there. I heard her moan as I ran my hands up her sides, along her ribs and down to her hips.

I held her hips and lifted her up. Dorothy lifted her head and shook her head no. "No." she breathed.

"No not yet please I want you Marcus!" I reached up and kissed her.

I felt her body relax and her hips lower. The tip of my cock pressed into her tightness as Dorothy applied pressure. She moaned into my mouth as my length moved inside. Our kiss continued and deepened, our tongues swirling, her hands moved to my upper chest where she held me steady and slowly rotated her hips.

"Gawwdd Marcus!" She pressed up against my chest, straightening her torso. "Gawd Marcus," Dorothy huffed and started moving a bit faster.

I arched my hips upward to meet her downward movement. Her eyes locked in on mine as I slid my length into her fully.

"Fuck baby! I am cumming again! Oh fuck Marcus fill me please baby."

This was more than sex, this was making love, the connection was deeper than anything I had ever felt in my life. It was warm, it was... suddenly for the first time... overwhelming!

I felt my balls churn. I felt the electric shock in my legs as I wrapped Dorothy in my arms and thrust up bottoming out in her again as she squealed.

I came deep, spurt after spurt, filling her womb. It was heavenly, it was erotic, euphoric and... loving.

As we melted into the quiet afterglow, our bodies were still humming with the echo of what we'd just shared. I pulled her close and didn't let go. My heart was still pounding, not just from the intensity of our bodies colliding, but from something else, something deeper.

There was a stillness now, but it wasn't empty. It was full of her breath on my chest, of the weight of her leg tangled with mine, of the invisible thread that had just woven itself between us. It wasn't just sex. It wasn't even just making love. It felt like discovering something I didn't know I'd been starving for until she gave it to me without reservation. She didn't hold back, and neither did I.

Every kiss, every gasp, every gentle graze of skin had said: I see you. I choose you. And now, in the soft silence after, I felt it more clearly than anything this wasn't the end of a moment. It was the beginning of something I didn't yet have the words for, but felt in every fiber of me. Love, maybe. Or something just as powerful.

The world outside could wait.

But the world didn't wait.

The shrill buzz of my alarm cracked the stillness, pulling me back to the reality of my last Friday class before Christmas break. I groaned, burying my face in her hair, unwilling to leave the warmth we'd created.

Still wrapped around each other, I realized something had shifted something quiet but immense. In her arms, I didn't just feel wanted. I felt known. And as I looked at her, I knew with a clarity that startled me: I hadn't just found a lover. I had found love.

December 22, 1976

I felt her hand draw across my chest and her leg resting over top of mine. I heard the sounds of her murmurs as she exhaled and daintily snored with her head on my chest. Last night we shared a nice quiet dinner and a bottle of wine at a restaurant she enjoyed outside of College Park.

I felt her fingers moving against my chest but I didn't move. I was thoroughly enjoying this moment. I felt her kiss my chest as she slowly woke up.

"Marcus? Why are you awake dear?" She mumbled in her sleep. "We aren't leaving until later to go to my parents, we have all morning."

Her hand moved over top of my right pectoral muscle. "Hmm my older sister will be jealous; you have larger breasts than she does." She giggled as she squeezed my chest muscle.

"I don't care about her, I care what you think."

"Hmm I love them." She kissed my chest.

"And I love yours." I shifted my left hand and caressed the side of her breast.

"Hmm baby that feels so good, you, touching me. You make me so happy." She cooed.

"As long as you are happy with me I will never change." I bent down and kissed her forehead.

She kissed my chest and in a surprise which I never expected she closed her teeth softly over my skin. I didn't react except to caress her bare back, from her shoulders down to her waist pausing at her hip.

I held her hip firm but then she released her little nibble. She moved her head and teased me by closing her teeth on my skin again.

I squeezed her hip with my hand, "Two can play that game young lady." I whispered.

"Hmm young, respect your elder tutor and girlfriend, young man." She quipped.

And it was as if I moved out of muscle memory and instinct. I rolled curling my right side over top of Dorothy, pressing her chest to the bed, my chest against her back. My hands instinctively grabbed her hips. I pulled her ass back against my waking cock.

"Oh yes my man ravaged me!" Dorothy moaned then giggled. I moved up to my knees lifting her by her hips. We never broke skin to skin contact.

"Do you want to be ravaged?" I hissed in her ear?" I nipped at her ear lobe and Dorothy exhaled.

"Marcus... do it, take me but be gentle you will split me in two." Her hands went out to her sides, instantly lowering her body and raising her ass.

She egged me on. "Do it!" She wiggled her ass pressing against my hardening length. She started talking and continued shaking her ass, but when she moved in up and down I had had enough.

I backed from her feeling my cock harden and sawed at her opening as it soaked my member. I pulled back to feel the tip split her lips open as she dripped wetness on the head of my cock.

I don't know why but it just happened. I raised my hand and gently smacked her ass.

"Oh! You dirty man!" She shook her hips; I swatted her again but this time with a bit more force, not hard but a bit ire.

"Fuck Marcus! Yes, do that again!"

I gripped her hips and pulled her back then slapped her left ass cheek, it turned red almost immediately.

I bent forward and lined the tip of my cock up to her entrance. I pressed my hips forward and then slapped her ass with a bit more force.

"Gawd fuck Marcus yes!" She squealed into her pillow. "Again!"

SMACK... SMACK... SMACK

I pressed my hips forward and she moved forward as well. By now Dorothy was nearly lying flat on the bed. I gripped her hips and pulled back driving my cock fulfilling her to the root.

I could hear her squeal but what drove my passion was the shiver I felt from her as her orgasm took over her. Her wetness flowed freely, coating her thighs and my cock, running down thighs.

"Don't stop cum in me Marcus! Pleeaasseee!"

I held her hips tighter but looked down and saw the redness of her ass, I immediately stopped and panicked. I looked at what I had done. I withdrew my cock and knelt there stunned.

"Baby? Please baby, I am close again."

My hand caressed her hips and her ass. I touched her softly and could feel the heat of her slapped skin. I was shaking in fear and disgust; I was in shock at my actions. I bent forward and whispered in her ear.

"I am sorry I hurt you. I am a horrible man." I rose up and toppled over to the side of the bed falling on the mattress.

Dorothy immediately moved and hugged me, rambling, asking, begging to know what was wrong. I just closed my eyes and covered my face, motionless on the bed.

"Baby?" She whispered.

I shook my head, "I hurt you... I saw what I did to you." I mumbled, "I feel like a monster Dorothy."

Dorothy immediately wrapped her in her arms and spoke softly comforting me reminding me that she wanted it, she asked for it and that she enjoyed it. She enjoyed the rush of the moment and how it felt when I held her and yes, she admitted it stung, but she loved how it felt when I playfully and lovingly spanked her ass.

Dorothy started kissing my chest then moved up to my neck and then my ear murmuring the entire time her feelings for me. She shifted her leg moving over top of me and straddling me again. She sat fully onto my groin. Her hands caressed my chest

She bent forward rubbing her wet pussy in my cock. "Marcus, grab my hips please!"

I locked eyes with Dorothy. She moved her hands to mine and then moved them to her hips. She held them there and leaned forward. She rotated her ass and hips, igniting my cock and hardening it as she rotated on top of it.

She held my hands firm to her hips and then pulled them so I was cupping her ass. She leaned forward and kissed my lips and murmured against my lips how good it felt, how wonderful it felt my hands holding her smaller ass.

She rose up and reached between her legs, grabbing my cock and held it firm to her entrance. I knew what she wanted; I knew how she wanted it. She released her hands for mine and placed them both on my chest and then dropped slowly seating my cock deep inside her.

Dorothy started rocking again but this time she leaned down and lay across my chest. I started moving in and out of her.

She nipped at my ear. "Yes baby, yes you know I need this, I want this from you."

I started moving with more effort and thrusting harder.

"Yes Marcus, yes come on take me and make love to me baby."

She continued to talk to me and I thrust quicker and then I heard her.

"Cumming my lover, I'm cumming for you."

I couldn't stop but she shifted things. She wrapped her arms around my body as we rolled. I was now on top of her. I was able to take control and really love her. I was able to kiss her mouth, neck, shoulders and throat. I was able to enjoy her breasts all while I drove in and out of my lover.

What I found most though with Dorothy was her beauty. I could see her eyes, her smile and yes her facial expressions. Her hands moved to my hips as she winked at me urging my one and only when I felt her pulling my ass towards her did I shiver and then feel the surge as I thrust faster and in a blinked swell of lust I unloaded the cum from my balls, deep into her womb.

Feeling totally spent I carefully laid down on my side and then pulled Dorothy close into me. We laid face-to-face, never losing sight of the others' eyes. It felt timeless, and it felt wonderful, but there was still a small amount of uncertainty.

In reality, Dorothy, two years older than I was, was finishing the first semester of her junior year and in eighteen months she would be graduating and leaving the University of Maryland. I'm not sure how much we would vest in this relationship but for now this was absolutely amazing.

It was less than an hour later Dorothy kissed me softly and whispered in my ear that she would be back in an hour and a half and that we would leave for the drive to her parents' house.

I shivered slightly, not only from realizing my faded doom of meeting her parents, but worse, I shivered of the uncertainty that I would be surrounded by a real family with a greater uncertainty of how I would react let alone survive.

~~~

I do not think that it was the traffic leaving campus which strained me, do not get me wrong it was an utter mess leaving campus but as we drove the short twenty-eight miles from campus to her home in Chevy Chase, I slowly started to get more nervous

"I should have gotten a haircut. I look like a hippy."

Dorothy responded as she was supposed to but also as she wanted to. "Baby, my parents will not care what you look like or how long your hair is. They know as much about you as I do and they are welcoming you to their home."

And you see that was my fear, I was being welcomed into the home of her parents, in Chevy Chase. Chevy Chase had always been known and recognized as one of this area's premier suburbs. It was for the rich and famous of Washington, D. C. This community was more than a simple normal community, from the quick reading I had done, it was defined as "the turn-of-the-century suburban" community for affluent Americans.

We exited the two-lane highway, and Chevy Chase welcomed us with quiet streets lined with storybook homes. They were flawless, every corner trimmed, every bush shaped like someone cared deeply about appearances. It was a world far removed from the loose gravel and leaning mailboxes of my childhood. The houses rose like monuments, broad-shouldered with glinting bay windows that caught the pale light like they were watching us pass.

Christmas lights draped every roofline and gutter, and each door was adorned with gleaming foil paper, wreaths, or velvet bows as if the whole neighborhood was locked in a festive contest of perfection. It all looked surreal, like a set built to resemble a feeling I'd never quite understood.

The car turned one last corner, and the familiar pressure returned to my chest. My fingers tightened around the armrest without realizing it. Dorothy noticed, of course she always did. Her voice was low and steady, cutting through the noise in my head.

Dorothy took my hand, warm and sure. I glanced at her, my skin slick with sweat despite the winter chill. I could feel it beading along my brow, a quiet betrayal of the anxiety crawling just beneath my surface.

"Hey," she said gently, squeezing my hand. "It's going to be fine. Remember, he's a retired military man, and she's just a schoolteacher."

I let out a humorless breath. "Dorothy, he's not just a retired military man. You told me he's a bigwig in defense contracting. And your mother's a professor."

She smiled, soft but knowing. "Yeah, baby. She teaches. He does contracting. But they're still just people. Please... relax, will you?" She brought my hand to her lips and kissed it.

"You're going to be fine, Marcus," she said, like she'd said it a hundred times, like she meant it even more now.

When we pulled into the driveway of the sprawling house with its silver-foiled door and pristine wreath, I stopped breathing for a moment. Snow drifted lightly, just enough to say it was snowing, like even the weather here behaved properly. Dorothy shifted the car into park. I closed my eyes and exhaled, trying to find some version of calm.

She leaned over, brushing my arm with her fingers. "You're not alone in this," she whispered. "We'll do this together. I love you."

My eyes opened. "You... love me?"

She turned fully toward me, her eyes shining. "Yes, Marcus. I do. I don't know how you feel, but I've never felt like this with anyone. The others were dates. This is... different. This is real." She kissed me softly, like punctuation to the truth she'd just given me.

I wanted to hold onto that moment, to freeze time right there. But then she released my hand.

"Let's go," she said. "They'll wonder what we're doing out here."

She opened her door and stepped into the cold. I followed, stepping onto ground that felt more like a stage than a front yard. This wasn't my world but I was in it now.

I grabbed our suitcases, hers smaller than mine, of course and followed her up the walk. The front door opened before we reached it. Her mother, a mature reflection of Dorothy with kind eyes and a joyful smile, greeted us with open arms. We stepped inside, grateful for the warmth. Dorothy hugged her tightly, then turned and took my hand.

"Mom, this is Marcus, the friend I told you about."

A tall, distinguished man entered the foyer just then. Dorothy dropped my hand and rushed to him.

"Daddy!" she said into his shoulder as he wrapped her in a quiet, strong embrace.

He was just a bit shorter than me, trim and composed, with a close-cut military haircut that suited him perfectly. When they parted, she took my hand again.

"Daddy, I'd like you to meet Marcus. He's the student I'm tutoring... and we're dating."

His eyes met mine, cool, steady, appraising. I felt the weight of his gaze like a spotlight.

I extended my hand. "Sir," I said, then turned to her mother, "Ma'am. Thank you both for having me. I don't have the right words, but I truly appreciate it."

He looked at my hand, then took it in a firm, measured grip. He was making sure I knew who he was and what I was stepping into.

"Come in, Marcus," he said. "Please. Miriam has some coffee on. We can sit and talk."

I left the suitcases in the foyer and followed behind Dorothy into the living room, the tension in my chest still tight but held at bay by Dorothy's touch on my arm. "See?" she whispered, kissing my cheek. "Not so bad."

We sat, Harold in a high-backed chair, Miriam, in a smaller identical chair, beside him, and Dorothy and me on the settee. I tried to leave space between us, but she closed the gap and held my hand firmly.

"Marcus," Harold began his voice level. "Dorothy mentioned you don't have a family. I don't mean to pry, I'm just curious."

I nodded. "Yes, sir. My father passed away when I was twelve. He'd just returned from Vietnam... a car crash took him." I paused, swallowed. "My mother died this past January. Cancer. She fought for two years."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Miriam said gently. "What about your aunt? Dorothy said you stayed with her?"

"There was... a falling out," I said, hesitant. "And they live down in southern Virginia."

Harold nodded, thoughtful. "May I ask your father, you said he was in Vietnam? He served?"

I sat a little straighter. "Yes, sir. He was a combat medic. MACV-SOG, second tour with the 5th Special Forces Group."

Harold shifted in his seat. His eyes flicked toward Miriam, then Dorothy, then back to me. The air changed.

Miriam stood. "Dorothy, come help me refresh the coffee, would you?" Dorothy looked surprised but followed, taking my cup with hers.

Harold stood. I stood too, out of respect. "Come with me, Marcus," he said. "I want to show you something."

We moved through the house and into a private room paneled in dark wood. His study, maybe. Bookshelves lined the walls, and two chairs sat near a lamp-lit table.

He gestured to the far wall. My eyes immediately locked on the "Screaming Eagle" patch of the 101st Airborne. Below it, black-and-white photos of a younger Harold in uniform. Next to it, a familiar insignia; my father's unit.

"That was his unit, sir. I recognize the patch. I have it... packed away with my mother's things."

Harold placed a hand on my shoulder. "If he wore that patch, son, your father was a hell of a soldier."

I swallowed. "He's buried near home. Dublin, Virginia." There was a knock. Miriam and Dorothy stood at the door.

"Harold, I thought Dorothy and I might have a glass of wine. Perhaps an early celebration? Would you and Marcus like something?"

Harold turned to me. "Marcus?"

"I... I'm sorry; I wouldn't know what to ask for, sir."

He smiled. "Let's have a Manhattan's then."

As the women disappeared, something caught my eye: a shadow box tucked away on the top of a single pedestal stand. I stepped closer.

Inside was the Medal of Honor, flanked by ribbons, jump wings with a gold star, the Pathfinder badge, a Silver Star, Bronze Star, and a Purple Heart with an oak leaf cluster.

My chest tightened. I turned to him, stunned.

"Sir... my, father always told me to salute his fellow Medal of Honor recipients. But if its okay... may I shake your hand again?"

His expression shifted his eyes wide. "Marcus... did you say 'fellow' Medal of Honor recipients?"

"Yes, sir. My father... he was awarded the Medal and the Purple Heart."

Harold didn't reach for my hand. He stepped forward and embraced me.

"No, son. You don't shake my hand. You're family. You are immediately family." When he let go, his grip stayed on my arm, steady and warm.

"You have my blessing, Marcus; just be honest with her. And if you ever need anything, you come to me. Understood?"

I nodded my throat too tight for words. "Good. Let's not keep the ladies waiting."

Christmas morning - 1976

I woke up tangled in her warmth, the scent of her hair filling my nose, her legs knotted with mine beneath the heavy quilt. For a long moment, I just lay there, eyes closed, heart steady for the first time in days. The world outside the window was still dark, sunrise was still a while away.

For once I wasn't thinking about where I didn't belong. I was just here next to Dorothy, in her childhood bed, in her parents' house. Under her father's roof! I couldn't help but grin. There wasn't even a question or concern last night as Harold shook my hand and Miriam gave me a soft hug, when they bid us goodnight.

Her breath shifted, and her hand slid across my chest, finding my heartbeat like she always did. "The Cheshire Cat is grinning isn't he?" She giggled. "Merry Christmas," she whispered, her voice still gravelly from sleep.

"Merry Christmas and no more than you are." I said, kissing the top of her head.

We lay there for a few more minutes, wrapped in quiet and cotton and something deeper that I didn't have words for yet. Eventually, we got up and dressed, the whole house creaking gently awake around us.

By seven-thirty, we were bundled in coats and scarves, climbing into Harold's Oldsmobile for the short drive to the early Christmas Mass. The church was stone-faced and proper, with stained-glass windows that cast shards of color on the pews. I sat between Dorothy and Miriam, trying to follow the rhythm of the hymns, my hands clasped tighter than usual. I wasn't sure if it was the season or the surroundings, but I felt exposed, like everyone could see right through me.

Still, when Harold put his hand briefly on my shoulder after the benediction, I didn't flinch, it felt sincere.

Back at the house, we all changed and once the fire was going strong breakfast was started, twice offered to assist. The ladies laughed. Harold offered me part of the newspaper. I declined and just tried to relax even more and take it all in.

The smell of cinnamon and fresh coffee pulled us into the kitchen where Miriam and Dorothy were hard at work. Harold was already sipping coffee when the food was brought out.

The table was full scrambled eggs, crisp bacon, biscuits, and Miriam's cranberry loaf, which Dorothy mock-complained about before stealing two slices. I sat across from Harold, beside Dorothy, and slowly, bite by bite, I started to feel it: the knot in my chest unwinding. This wasn't an interrogation. This was breakfast. This was family.

At some point, Harold asked if I liked my eggs runny or firm, and before I could answer, Dorothy said, "Firm. Like his resolve to be amazing in everything he does," She paused, "Including his classes."

That earned a laugh from Harold and a loving eye-roll from Miriam, and I felt something I hadn't expected, ease. Real ease.

After breakfast, we migrated to the living room. The fire was already going, and the Christmas tree glittered in the corner, surrounded by carefully wrapped presents. I was still nervous, not from fear anymore, but from not wanting to disappoint anyone.

Dorothy sat beside me on the rug, our shoulders touching. "You sure you're okay?" she asked, her hand gently brushing mine.

"I'm good," I said honestly. "Better than I thought I'd be."

Gifts started passing hands. A sweater for Miriam. A new chess set for Harold. A necklace for Dorothy. Then came a journal and pen for me from Dorothy. It was soft leather, my initials in gold on the front. "For your thoughts," she whispered. "Even the messy ones."

Then came the scarf, Terrapin red, hand-knit. I blinked, and the knot came back in my throat, but it was a good knot this time. The kind that shows up when you're finally seen.

Harold and Miriam handed me a small box, inside, a wristwatch, simple and clean, with a brown leather band. The note read, "For the time you've already given to our daughter, and for the future."

I didn't know what to say. I was half-dizzy from it all. But then I remembered. "Wait, if you will excuse me," I said. "I will be right back." I made my way up the steps and into my duffel bag. I grabbed the paper wrapped gift and walked back downstairs. "I, uh... I do have something."

Dorothy raised an eyebrow. "You told me you didn't bring anything."

"It's nothing spectacular but it's for you. For everything you have done." I sat down next to her. I handed her the soft package. She unwrapped it carefully, and when she pulled it free, her eyes widened.

"My God... Marcus..."

It was a real football jersey, my name across the back and my number 89. Not a fancy gift, but one I'd saved up for, ordered just days ago, the team trainer helped me "appropriate" it. I had been hiding it for a few days in my dorm until the day we left.

"I thought, maybe when I'm not around, you could wear it. Or sleep in it," I added, sheepishly.

She clutched it to her chest. "Are you kidding? I'm wearing this today." Then she leaned in and kissed me, soft, on my cheek. "I love it"

Miriam smiled. Harold looked like he was holding back a grin.

And for the first time since we pulled into the driveway the day before, I didn't feel like an outsider trying to fit in. I just felt like me, Marcus, and somehow, that was enough.

~~~

May 1978 Dorothy Graduates

It had been a long day, filled with camera flashes, applause, and proud tears, and through it all, I'd watched her with something deeper than admiration. It was awe of her, she had done it, she had graduated with her degree in education, magna cum laude. She was staying in Maryland for her master's, and the way she spoke about it, with fire in her eyes and plans in her voice, made me love her more fiercely than ever.

Two hours later, the sound of laughter floated on the warm breeze, tangled with the smoky scent of barbecue and the clink of glassware. It was late afternoon, and the sun hung low, casting soft gold over the manicured backyard of Harold and Miriam's home. Dorothy was radiant, even without the cap and gown she'd shed after the ceremony. She stood near the grill, animated, her hands flying through the air as she told some story to her cousin and her Aunt Elise, a lemonade in one hand and her other tucked against her hip like she owned the place. Maybe she did, she certainly owned my heart.

"Marcus, help yourself to more ribs," Miriam called from a folding table covered in trays of food. "We're not letting you leave here hungry."

"Yes, ma'am," I called back with a smile, but my stomach was already tight with what I was about to do.

Harold stood off to the side, speaking with one of Dorothy's uncles about cars. I heard a chuckle and he glanced at me and nodded. Then someone told a Navy joke. That got the men laughing. But I was watching him, waiting for the moment. He was dressed casually; khakis and a dress shirt, his sleeves rolled up and sunglasses perched on his head like he forgot they were there. He laughed easily now around me, that barrier long since broken, but what I was about to ask wasn't casual. Not at all.

I wiped my hands on a napkin and tossed my plate. Then I made my way toward him, heart knocking against my ribs like it wanted to be heard before I said a word.

"Sir?" I said quietly, catching his attention.

He turned, mid-sentence, and gave me that small, knowing smile he'd picked up in the last year or so. "Marcus," he said. "Everything alright?"

"Yes, sir. I was wondering... if I might steal a few minutes. Just you and me?"

Something in my voice must've tipped him off. His expression shifted just a bit, becoming more measured, serious. He nodded once. "Let's step inside."

We walked side by side, across the patio and into the cool of the house. The clamor of the barbecue faded as we moved past the kitchen, down the hall, and into his den. I had always respected this room, it felt like his inner sanctum, with its dark paneled walls, shelves of books and military memorabilia, and the quiet dignity of a man who had both fought and loved deeply.

Harold closed the door behind us, and I turned to face him. "I hadn't rehearsed this, not fully." I paused; I wanted it to be real, not a speech.

"I, uh..." I exhaled and rubbed the back of my neck. "I've been thinking about this day for a long time, sir."

Harold sat in one of the two armchairs, and I took the other. The desk lamp beside us cast a warm glow between us.

He nodded slowly. "Take your time."

I reached into the inside pocket of my jacket and pulled out the small black velvet box. I didn't open it, just held it in my palm, between us.

"I bought this three months ago," I said. "Took every extra dollar I had. I know I'm on a scholarship so much of my school is paid. You know I am trying hard sir." I paused.

"You know on the field things are so much more natural to me. Your daughter has made me such a better human being, a person, and frankly Harold, she has made me a mature and intelligent man."

I paused and looked him in the eyes. "Sir, it isn't extravagant but it is the best I could do." My breath hitched. "And I apologize if it doesn't meet your standards, or Miriam's but it's real. Like how I feel about your daughter."

Harold's gaze dropped to the box, then back to me. His face was unreadable, calm.

"I wanted to wait for the right moment," I continued. "Not just for Dorothy, but for you and Miriam, too. Because when I ask her to marry me, I'm not just joining my life to hers. I'm joining this family."

He shifted slightly, his elbow resting on the arm of the chair.

"I love her more than I thought I was capable of loving anyone," I said, my voice steadier than I expected. "She's not just my girlfriend, she's my compass. She had challenged me from the first day and I can't love her any more for that. She's why I'm still in school, it isn't just football sir, it's for Dorothy as well."

I swallowed. "I know I'm not from this world, but you welcomed me on day one, that Christmas eighteen months ago. But I swear to you, sir, I will spend the rest of my life earning her love. Protecting it and building something real with her."

I finally looked him square in the eye. "I'd like your permission to propose to Dorothy."

The silence that followed was brief but thick. Harold leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, the kind of thoughtful pose I'd seen before, like he was measuring something that couldn't be weighed.

"I've watched you, Marcus," he said finally. "Not just how you treat Dorothy, but how you've grown. How you carry yourself. You've faced hard things, and instead of turning bitter, you turned responsible."

He paused, then leaned forward.

"You didn't just love my daughter, you earned her trust. And ours."

I felt my heart thud against my ribs.

He stood as did I. He squared his shoulder and raised his hand slightly and reached out and placed his hand on my shoulder, firm.

"You have my blessing, son. You didn't need to ask for it to win her heart, but you asked anyway. That means something."

I swallowed against the lump in my throat, and nodded. "Thank you, sir. That means more than I can say."

He pulled me into a quick, strong hug, a man's hug, then patted my back and pulled away.

"Now, go propose to her before someone eats all the cake."

We both laughed, and I realized my palms were shaking slightly. The weight of what I was about to do hit me like a slow sunrise warming every inch of me from the inside out.

We stepped back outside, into the fading afternoon. The backyard buzzed with voices and music and the smell of grilled chicken.

Dorothy was near the edge of the garden, barefoot in the grass, laughing with her older sister and cousin about something or other. Dorothy spotted me crossing the yard and gave me that smile, the one that had leveled me the first night we met and still hit me like sunlight through stained glass. Her bare feet sank slightly into the spring grass as she stepped away from the others, walking toward me, head tilted.

"You okay?" she asked, reaching for my hand. "You were gone for a while."

I nodded, and for a moment, I couldn't speak. My hand closed around hers, warm, soft, familiar. I felt the box in my pocket pressing against my thigh like a heartbeat.

"I'm okay," I said, my voice quieter than usual. "Can I steal you for a minute?"

She looked at me with curiosity and a flicker of mischief, as if she suspected something but wasn't sure what. "Of course."

I led her to the center of the backyard, we were surrounded by the music and chatter of everyone, I took her in my arms and slowly danced with her.

"What are you doing?" She giggled and smiled looking up at me.

"I felt like dancing with you to show everyone here just what you mean to me." Our eyes stayed locked on each other's and she blushed.

"There it is!"

She blushed deeper, "What?"

"You are blushing."

"Stop, you are embarrassing me Marcus."

And that I knew was the perfect time. I came to a stop and held her hands, then stepped back slightly. The voices of her family faded into the background, replaced by the breeze, the birds, the dull hum of the world holding its breath.

She faced me, eyes shining. "You're being very serious," she said, teasing. "Should I be nervous?"

"No," I said, and my throat tightened. "I should be."

She blinked, her lips parting just slightly, and that was when I reached into my pocket. The little black velvet box came out, and I opened it with hands that barely felt like mine. The ring wasn't flashy, it wasn't supposed to be. It was delicate and classic, a small diamond in a gold setting, like something from another time. Like something timeless.

I dropped to one knee and held the box forward, lifting it and my hand higher. Dorothy gasped softly, her hand covering her mouth.

I heard the music stop, I heard a few gasps; I heard one voice already in tears. I reached for her left hand; I took hold of it as I spoke. Everything around us seemed to have been silenced.

"I've been in love with you for longer than I can explain," I said, my voice steadier now. "And I've known, for months, maybe longer, that you're the one. The only one."

She didn't move. Her eyes were locked on mine, glistening with the kind of emotion that made everything else in the world feel like background noise.

"I don't come from much, but you know that. But I know what it means to be loyal. I know what it means to fight for someone. You gave me roots, Dorothy. You gave me the kind of love that makes a man want to build something forever."

"So I'm asking, will you marry me?"

For a second, nothing existed but the look on her face. Her hands trembled slightly, tears already spilling down her cheeks as she let out a soft, breathless laugh.

"Oh my God," she whispered. "Yes. Yes! Marcus, yes."

I slid the ring onto her finger, my own eyes burning with tears I didn't try to hide. She dropped to her knees in front of me, arms wrapping around my neck as we both knelt there, holding each other surrounded by the gathered family and friends.

"You tricked me," she whispered against my ear. "You made me think you were just being silly and dancing with me."

I hugged her a bit tighter. "I..." I murmured, smiling into her shoulder. "I was terrified about this but your father and I had a good talk a bit ago."

She pulled back just enough to kiss me, slow and deep and full of everything we didn't have to say. When we stood, her hand still in mine, the ring catching the sunlight like it belonged there.

We turned to see Harold and Miriam as well as the guests smiling along with a few tears of joy.

Then they all started clapping and came circling us both extending their congratulations. I stepped back and the ladies surrounded her. The men I saw were just smiling and congratulating Harold.

Harold gave me a single nod from where he stood. And Miriam, well after hugging Dorothy, she came over and hugged me. She backed up slightly and with her hand rested on her heart, her eyes glistening. "She's going to love you forever, Marcus."

I smiled and replied. "I know I do, I love her so much, every damn day Miriam.

~~~ End of Chapter 2~~~

I hope you enjoyed this series so far, there is more coming very soon. If you have the time, please share your thoughts in feedback.

All my love,

Aoife