Here you go, the final piece with Mark and Duncan. I’d say I’m sorry for stretching it out, but… I’m not. 😉
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Duncan’s eyebrows went up and he reluctantly let go of Mark’s face. “There’s more?”
“Besides the other unopened present?” Duncan nodded and Mark’s expression turned mischievous. “You’ll have to open that one and find out.”
Duncan wanted to scowl at him, but was too happy. He turned back to the unopened gift and lifted it. This one wasn’t a book, unless Mark had gone to a lot of trouble to put it in a box. Duncan pulled this ribbon off and as carefully as he’d handled the book, pulled at the paper.
He blinked at the box, then up at Mark, then back at the box again. He stared at the picture on the front—a slice of chocolate cake—and the Betty Crocker symbol above it and tried to figure out how to tell Mark he couldn’t make it without hurting the man’s feelings. “Uh…”
Mark laughed. “Your face is priceless.”
Duncan scowled. “Not funny. I mean, it’s, uh, a nice idea, but—”
“Come on, lazy bones. And I’ll show you the rest of my gift.”
Duncan raised an eyebrow, but let Mark pull him out of bed. He grabbed his crutches and Mark took the cake mix.
When they rounded the corner into the kitchen, Duncan blinked at the thing on the table. The metal box couldn’t have been more than about a foot in size all around. On the front was a door with what looked like a thermometer and a small red knob. He glanced at Mark then got a little closer. As soon as he saw the numbers on the thermometer, it clicked.
“You got me an… is that an… an oven?” Duncan spun a little too fast, eyes wide and hopeful, and wobbled precariously. Mark hurried over to help steady him.
“Hey, no falling. I didn’t get it so you’d hurt yourself,” he grumbled.
Duncan spun back around and grinned like a kid at Christmas. “An oven! Holy shit!”
Mark laughed. “I’d never have thought buying someone kitchen stuff would get that reaction.”
“It’s been so long since I’ve been able to do something like that. I wonder if we can get flour? If it’s still good? Oh, maybe cornmeal?” He started mentally going through the contents of the cabinets.
“Don’t forget the box,” Mark said, holding it up.
“Wait, cake.” Duncan started laughing. “You bought me a birthday cake!” He grinned from ear to ear, pulling Mark in for a kiss.
“I considered trying to bake it for you,” he said when they broke apart. “But I figured it’d be more of a gift to not subject you to my scary attempts at food.”
Duncan laughed. “Yeah, I actually don’t mind. It’ll be cool to play with it. Holy shit, an oven!”
“I don’t know, for sure, if the mix is good, but I hope, since it’s sealed in plastic, it will be. I found some powdered milk and powdered eggs. They’re not going to be good for anything but mixing into something else, but…” Mark shrugged. “I thought it might be a nice treat. Oh,” he said, leaning forward and twisting the knob. He pulled open the oven and sitting inside was a can of icing.
“You thought of everything. And… how? Where? I mean, I didn’t even know these things existed.”
Mark blushed. “I’ve had it for a little while. I found it at the camp store, but I didn’t know what it was, at first.”
Duncan grinned, shaking his head. “I probably wouldn’t have, either.”
He looked back at the oven, then the cake mix and icing, then to Mark. He studied the freckled nose, the bright blue eyes and sent up a thank you that he’d found this man. “I’m going to be a little corny for a minute,” Duncan said, dropping his gaze to Mark’s chest. “The gifts are… amazing. I couldn’t have asked for better. But the best one I’ve got?” He looked at Mark through his lashes, cheeks warming. Mark raised his eyebrows. “You.”
He half-expected Mark to laugh, but he was pleased to see instead, Mark’s gaze firmly on their feet and red creeping up Mark’s neck and over his ears. Mark cleared his throat. “Thank you. I’m… thank you for wanting me.” He swallowed then looked up again. “Happy Birthday.”
“Best ever, Mark.”
Mark’s smile in response lit up his face. “So… cake for breakfast?”
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Grace Duncan grew up with a wild imagination. She told stories from an early age – many of which got her into trouble. Eventually, she learned to channel that imagination into less troublesome areas, including fanfiction, which is what has led her to writing male/male erotica.
A gypsy in her own right, Grace has lived all over the United States. She has currently set up camp in East Texas with her husband and children – both the human and furry kind.
As one of those rare creatures who loves research, Grace can get lost for hours on the internet, reading up on any number of strange and different topics. She can also be found writing fanfiction, reading fantasy, crime, suspense, romance and other erotica or even dabbling in art.
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Make sure to check out the rest of the stories from Free Fiction Friday!