Title: Real and Constant
Word Count: 810
Warning: Slash, PWP, dry-humping/frottage, angst, no-beta, cheesy as hell
Author's Note: I found this in a folder, I must have written it like five years ago. Just a really short drabble. Will probbaly end up x-posted.
Disclaimer: Thank you, Jonathan Larson. These boys are beautiful, and all yours.
With trembling hands, Roger caressed Mark’s waist, breathing heavily against Mark’s neck. Mark rested his face against Roger’s –wisps of hair and rocker stubble brushing Mark’s cheek. Pale fingers tangle into Roger’s curls, while the other hand snakes beneath the hem of Roger’s shirt and press against the sweaty small of his back. Roger closes his mouth over Mark’s pulse.
“You’re so real…” Roger murmurs.
“You’re here. You’re real.”
“Of course I am – “
“But they… they weren’t. The harder I held onto them, the faster they slipped away.”
“You- you’re here… You’ve always been here. And the harder I hold you… the harder you hold on to me.”
“I love you Roger.”
Mark didn’t let Roger reply, he just kissed him, drawing out the sobs and swallowing them down. Roger pressed Mark against the wall, their hip bones locking, their legs and arms and tongues tangling. A coil deep in Mark’s groin wound tighter and tighter as Roger’s hardening cock pressed against his own. Mark’s leg wound up around Roger’s waist, grounding them harder together. Roger gasps, his mouth pulling from Mark’s.
“Oh fuck, Mark –“
“I want you, please, Roger.”
Mark grips Roger’s face and forces him to look in his eyes. “I’m not. I trust you and I love you. We’ll be safe. I just… I just want to see you, want to feel you.”
Roger buried his face in Mark’s shoulder. Mark whispers, “I want to make you come.” Roger’s knees nearly buckle at Mark’s words. Mark holds him tighter and continues to whisper against Roger’s ear. Reverentially, almost like a pray. “Do you feel how hard I am for you? You drive me crazy. You always have.”
Roger keeps his face hidden, but he moans softly as he rocks his hips against Mark’s, soaking in every word. And Mark can’t stop, he cannot stop talking, can’t stop spilling these words of lust and adoration because they have been bottled up for so long. Mark’s whispers continue, his words almost lost in the din of the city and the open echoing loft. “I think of you. When I’m alone and hard and needing… I stroke my cock and imagine your hand… your beautiful callused hand.”
“Mark-“ Roger’s rocking hips go still for a split second, and Mark panics, fears he’s pulling away.
“Don’t stop Roger.”
Roger growls low in his throat, and grinds against Mark harder than before, with one hand against the wall and the other gripping Mark’s hip. Gasps slip out between Mark’s words as he continues to egg Roger on.
“I think of you stroking me while you fill me, your cock sliding hard and slick inside me.”
“Roger- you can’t stop, I’m-“
Then Roger is kissing him so softly that Mark’s head spins. For a moment he thinks he’s falling, but it’s only Roger lowering him gently to the floor. Roger lies on top of him, entwining their legs so that their throbbing dicks settle into the hollow of each other’s hips. They rock against one another, quick and shallow strokes, muffling their moans in each other’s shoulders even though theirs no one around to hear. It’s awkward and frantic and abandoned – nothing but friction and soft sobs, eyes threatening to weep as much as the heads of their cocks are inside their tented jeans.
Soon, though, Roger collects himself, and kneels and lifts off of Mark slightly. He snakes a hand between them, and rubs against Mark’s lap, working his erection more diligently than his frenzied hips ever could. Roger watches Mark’s face as he comes, how his mouth drops open with deep gasps, his blue eyes shut tight, and his whole body trembling and arched up like a bow. Mark slowly comes back to himself, his body relaxing into the floor. His finally open and he looks at Roger, a mixture of love and embarrassment. Mark has come in his pants since he was a kid. But Roger is staring at him with so much lust and affection that the feeling quickly passes and all Mark can do is stare into Roger’s dark green eyes.
Mark sits up, Roger still kneeling between his legs, and weaves his hand into Roger’s hair. They kiss softly for a moment, until Mark begins to stand, leading Roger to do the same. “Let’s go to my room.”
“Mark, you don’t have to do –“
“I know I don’t have to. There’s a lot of things I’ve done and went through that I didn’t have to. But I wanted to. Because of you. And this is no different.” Mark sounds so sure, and so calm, that Roger can’t help but smile. As Mark leads him he knows that everything will be okay… because Mark will take care of him. Will take care of them both. Just like he always has.