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“Well, hello,” Marco said, voice low and rough.

“You are wearing…” Carter said, taking hold of Marco’s shirt and pulling at it roughly, “way too many fucking clothes.”

“I can’t answer the door naked, Carter. I’ll scar Mrs. Palmer worse than she already is,” Marco said with a low laugh as his shirt was pulled off.

“Not my problem,” Carter growled.

“God, I love when you do that,” Marco admitted, pulling at Carter’s pants.

They never made it upstairs to the loft, but that was alright by Carter. Apparently, Marco had expected something of the sort since there was a stash of supplies downstairs on one of the tables. It was quick, like the first time. Marco bent over the back of the couch with Carter behind him. Carter growled and thrust into the man, fascinated as much by the feel of being inside Marco as he was by the sight of the way the man’s back muscles shifted and twitched as he buried himself.

It turned out to be a good thing the couch was leather when Marco cried out and came against the cushion. Carter wasn’t far behind, sagging backward after he was done and catching Marco before the man collapsed into the mess he’d made.

Clean-up was quick and easy, and Carter collapsed on the freshly cleaned couch. Marco followed close behind, though he chose to vault over the back and land on Carter instead.

“Oof,” Carter grunted, grabbing Marco and shifting him off something vulnerable. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“If my therapist couldn’t figure it out, I don’t think we will,” Marco told him happily.

Carter frowned. “You went to a shrink?”

“When my mom died. And then while I was in college,” Marco told him easily, running his fingers over Carter’s upper arm.

“Why college?” Carter asked, not needing to know why the death of a beloved parent might need someone else’s help to cope with.

Marco sighed. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I was wild in college. Wasn’t so bad at first, but then suddenly, I realized I was so caught up in partying and sex that everything else was falling apart. When I realized I hadn’t talked to my dad in over a month, I’d dropped a whole grade point, and some of my friends had stopped messaging me after waiting so long, I knew something needed to happen.”

“So, you went straight for a shrink,” Carter asked, trying and knowing he failed at keeping the doubt from his voice.

Marco laughed, his gentle strokes moving to Carter’s chest and stomach. “You don’t need to see therapistsjustwhen you’re having mental breakdowns or when you’ve gone through something horrible. A therapist is just someone with the knowledge and skillset to help you right yourself. There was nothing wrong with me. I just got a little lost, and Dr. Jessup showed me how to read a map.”

“I could have taught you how to read a map. It’s not hard,” Carter grumbled.

Marco eyed him, the corner of his lips quirking. For a moment, Carter wondered if Marco would call him on deliberately avoiding Marco’s message because it could apply to Carter just as easily, though in his case, he was exceptionally lost.

Marco instead chose to flop down next to Carter, his back against the couch, his head on Carter’s chest. “I’m sleepy and need a nap. Let’s be lazy until the boardwalk opens.”

“You slept all night,” Carter accused with a scowl. He’d been up all night and up early in the morning, after all.

“I know, but that’s why I said lazy,” Marco said.

Carter rolled his eyes. “You’re not fooling anyone, Marco.”

“Shh, napping,” Marco told him, closing his eyes.

Carter sighed, deciding the fight wasn’t worth the payoff, and closed his eyes. If he had been conscious, he would have been surprised at how quickly he nodded off despite how much his head buzzed like crazy.

“I really don’t getthe point of all these lights,” Carter complained, staring at the small theme park on the boardwalk as they passed by. “Reminds me of Vegas without the hookers and booze.”

“You’re drinking a beer,” Marco pointed out.

“Yeah, but there’s shitty boardwalk beer and shitty overpriced Vegas drinks that are everywhere,” Carter grumped.

Marco laughed softly, hooking his free hand around Carter’s elbow. In his other hand, he held a plastic cup full of what Marco had insisted was a ‘Unicorn Smoothie’ from one of the many stands that opened at night after the stores had closed. Marco insisted it tasted like birthday cake and frosting. Carter had informed him it tasted like diabetes, which prompted Marco to smirk and drink about a quarter in one go.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Marco asked as they walked at the crowd's edge to avoid getting hemmed in.

“You say that like I can stop you,” Carter muttered.