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Only In New York	By : gildedmuse Category: Musicals/Plays > RENT Views: 1854 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own RENT, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Only In New York
- 1
Only In New York

"Hey."
Roger is leaning against the bar, elbows propped up on the metallic ledge to keep his head from falling forward. He closes his eyes, hoping that whoever it is trying to speak with him will get the message and fuck off. He's only had two beers tonight, and he's going to need a lot more than that before he can forget about her.
The kid stays there, watching Roger and waiting for some sort of reply.
The blond, Roger's seen him before at some of their other shows. The band isn't exactly popular. It's easy to remember the faces of the people who show up for two or three gigs in a row. This kid had been to the last three as far as Roger remembers. He isn't as wild and high as most of the groupies who dance in front of the stage, but Roger's seen him watching them. Standing in the back, actually listening to the music like he gets it.
Of course, April gets the music. The problem is that she doesn't get him.
"Hey." Roger takes another mouthful of beer, wondering what the kid wants. He hopes he isn't going to ask for an autograph. Roger hates giving autographs. The few times he's been asked he feels like he's doing something wrong. His drummer, Steve, he loves the attention. Roger wants people to like the music for the sound, not for him.
The blond kid with these chunky, black-rimmed glasses that he has to keep pushing up leans against the bar and says, "I liked the show."
"Thanks." Roger is starting to fidget in his seat. He really wants to go find April and apologize, but he has no idea what to say to her. Roger glances towards the back of the club where he can see April and her friends standing around a shady looking man. If he went now he could say he is sorry and take her home before she does anything.
The young boy holds out his hand. "I'm Mark," he says.
Roger looks back to the young man sitting next to him. Mark is a good name for the kid, he thinks, and he likes the way Mark smiles. He takes the boy's hand. "Roger."
"You have a great voice," Mark says. When some of the girls say it, they're so high out of their minds it means nothing. When Mark says it, he sounds so honest. "That one song, the third one in the set?"
"Constance," Roger says. It's one of the newer ones, but the words have been turning inside Roger's head since he first picked up a guitar. It is April's song.
"That one," Mark says, pointing at Roger as though he's stumbled onto something. "That one, it makes me... It's really you," Mark tries to explain, using his hands as he talks. Roger can't help but grin at that. "It's not like some music you hear, where the singer is just telling a story it's really... You."
Roger looks down at his drink, brushing some of the water drops from the side and trying to hide the self-conscious smile on his face. "Thanks." He looks back up, and Mark is staring at Roger, head cocked to the side and eyes narrowed slightly behind his glasses as if he's trying to see something. It is more than a little nerve wrecking, the way Mark is studying him. Roger clears his throat and changing the subject. "You don't sound like you're from around here."
"I'm not," Mark admits. He stops examining Roger and becomes just another cute, smiling fan again. "I came here for college. Was in college. Dropped out, actually. But I'm staying here. I mean, in the city, still." His laugh sounds nervous and shy. "I'm from Scarsdale."
"Haven't heard of it." Roger's lived in New York all his life. He's never been out of the five boroughs. If it isn't a major world city, Roger's never heard of it.
Mark laughs again, a little less nervous this time. "No one has." He really does have a great smile, Roger thinks. It's a lot like April's. A bit more lopsided and goofy looking, but it has the same effect on Roger. It makes him want to lean forward and trace Mark's lips with the pads of his fingers. Those kinds of smiles, they make Roger feel like soft, gentle kisses.
He pushes his beer forward on the bar. He's definitely had enough. He should be getting out of here, maybe dragging April with him. Instead he leans forward against the bar, maybe a bit closer to Mark than completely necessary, and asks, "One of those places, huh?"
Mark nods. "New York is about a million times bigger," he says, "and at least a billion times more exiting. Lots of interesting people." He's looking right at Roger when he says that. It's that same look from earlier, like he's trying to figure something out about Roger. The musician can't stand staring back at him for more than a few seconds. He bites at his lower lip, swerving his neck to look around the club.
Of course his eyes fall on April. She's dancing up against some other guy, so close Roger can't believe either has room to breath. She's always like that when she's high. The few times she's convinced Roger of going up with her, he hadn't exactly acted like himself, either. Still, he can't help but feel jealous and used when he sees her hands disappearing bellow the waistline of the stranger's pants.
She looks back over her shoulder and smiles right at Roger. He looks back to Mark and asks, "Want to go?" If he sounds a bit too desperate he doesn't care. "I need some fresh air."
Mark says, "Sure." He's grinning again. Roger tries to smile back, but he's not sure he manages. He can still see the show April is putting on, and smiling is pretty much out of the question. He pulls on his jacket and grabs Mark by the wrist, leading the other boy through the crowd and out of the building as quickly as possible.
Outside, the autumn chill stings at Roger's face. It's a little sobering, which isn't what Roger wanted, but the pinpricks of icy wind against his face feel good. He takes a deep breath, a little too deep, and ends up in a coughing fit.
Mark pats him on the back. "You all right?"
"I'm fine," Roger answers. He coughs a few more times into his hand. "Fine."
"You sure?" Mark asks. He starts walking down the sidewalk and Roger follows along. "Need a cigarette?"
"No, I've got-" It takes Roger a second to realize that Mark is joking. "No, I'm fine."
"Can you make it all the way to NYU?" From the way Mark is smiling and the fact that the club is practically on University property Roger figures this is another joke.
"I think so," he answers, trying to match Mark's good mood.
"Perfect," Mark says. "My dorm is just over there." He points to some of the older buildings and starts leading Roger that way.
Roger frowns,
trying to work out what's going on. "Your place?"
Mark chuckles. "Yeah, my place. Unless you want to go back to yours?"
"Oh," Roger nearly trips over his own feet when realization catches up with him. He stops dead in his track, stumbling to keep himself upright. "But, I..."
But Roger has a girlfriend. Sure she is currently out of her mind and practically dry humping on the dance floor with someone who isn't Roger, but she is still his.
But Roger isn't gay even if he might feel a little attracted to Mark because of the alcohol. Even if Mark's smile makes him look like he needs to be kisses, and Roger is the one who needs to do it. Even if he's experiment before, that doesn't mean anything.
Mark laughs again. Under the streetlight, Roger can see that the boy's cheeks are bright pink. It might be from the chilly air, but the way he keeps shifting his weight from side to side and smiling at the ground instead of Roger probably isn't. "I'm horrible at these things," Mark admits. He shrugs his shoulders, barely lifting his eyes to meet Roger's.
"Me, too." What Roger really means to say is that he's straight and currently dating this girl whose lots of fun when she's not on smack.
Mark's breaths come out as little white puffs under the yellow lights. "This could be awkward." Then he's kissing Roger, right there in the middle of the sidewalk.
Roger nearly falls over again, but Mark is there with his fists wrapped around Roger's jacket to hold him up. Mark is pressing against him, mouth open and breathing hot air against Roger's lips. Without thinking, Roger starts kissing him back. He slides his tongue against Mark's, let the other boy lead and dominate until the only thing Roger is conscious off is Mark pressed against his mouth.
When Mark pulls back Roger groans. His breathing is shallow and offbeat, and his fingers had managed to wind themselves together at the back of Mark's neck. He's definitely not the innocent party.
Mark smiles up at Roger, his face a blotchy pink and his expression dazed. "Wow." Both of the boys blush. Roger lets go of Mark's neck and removes Mark's hands from his shirt so that he can take a step back, stuffing his hands in his pockets in case they try to grab Mark again.
Mark licks his lips. He keeps his eyes on the ground, laughing nervously as he tries to speak again. "I mean... I didn't think you were going to kiss me back like that."
"Oh," Roger voice breaks when he speaks. He's a little surprised himself. In his pockets, he can feel his hands trying to find anything to play with. Keys, guitar picks, old pieces of lint. Anything that will keep them from shaking.
Mark reaches out and takes Roger's hand, pulling it free from his pocket. His skin feels warm as he links their fingers together, tugging Roger along behind him. "Come on, it's getting cold out here."
Roger lets Mark lead him away to his dorm. It's not like they have to do anything, Roger figures. Mark seems like a cool kid. Maybe they could just keep each other company tonight. It's not like Roger even wants him that much.
*
"Owe!"
There's a loud crack when Mark hits the bed. It could have been the frame, Roger thinks, but then Mark is leaning forward, rubbing the small of his back.
Roger winces, taking a seat next to him on the small twin. "Sorry." It sounds lame, but it's the best Roger can do. He reaches behind Mark, lifting up the boy's coat and sweater so that he can massage the skin. "Does this help?"
Even if isn't helping, Mark doesn't seem to mind. His eyes flutter close, and he's arching back into Roger's touch. "Yes." It's more of a moan than an answer.
Roger's hand slows to a stop. "I'm really-"
"It's okay," Mark says. He wiggles away from Roger's hand so that the two boys are sitting with their knees pressed together. Mark cups the back of Roger's neck. "I don't mind."
"Didn't mean to hurt you." Roger's hand is barely pressing against the skin of Mark's back, in case it is starting to bruise.
Mark laughs. He bounces a bit, and the bed creaks and shakes. "It's these damn beds," he says. "This mattress, it's been used some million times already."
Roger makes a face and lifts up the corner of the sheets as if to make sure the mattress is safe. Mark laughs again, the hand at the back of Roger's neck going upwards to tangle itself into hair. "It's really okay," Mark says. "I don't mind if you push a little."
Then Mark is kissing him again. Hot and wet and eager, so that Roger doesn't have to think about what is going on. Mark kisses him like that and Roger has to push them up against walls and doors and beds, anywhere he can get his body closer to Mark.
It doesn't take long for Roger to fall back on bed, pulling Mark down on top of him. Mark's hands are under Roger's shirt, pushing it up. They break away long enough that Mark can slip it over his head before diving back in to each other's mouths. Roger doesn't know what he's doing, but the kissing is frantic and searing and he knows he wants more. He lets his thigh slip between Mark's legs, brushing against the outline of the boy's erection through the rough fabric. Mark pulls back from the kiss, moaning into Roger's neck.
Roger has no idea what he's doing, but he moves his leg against Mark's crotch, and he can feel the boy tremble against him. He knows he doesn't want it to stop.
"Get out of these," Roger says, fingers trying to work the button on Mark's jeans. Mark nods, moving back far enough that Roger has room to get out of his own pants while Mark pulls his shirt and jacket off.
Mark has a little more trouble slipping out of his pants. He tries to work the buckle on his belt a few times before he just gives up and shimmies out of the black jeans. "Tighty-Whities?" Roger teases, snapping the front of Mark's underwear. The college student blushes, sending that pink color from his cheeks all the way down his chest.
"They're cheap..." Mark explains as he hurries to get them off. Roger's not sure if he'd rather look or not, but he doesn't have to think about it. Mark isn't even done pulling them down before he's leaning back over and capturing Roger's mouth with his own.
Before Roger can kiss back he's moaning into Mark's mouth. It feels like his nerves are on fire. Mark's straddling Roger's hips, hands on Roger's shoulders to keep himself steady as he moves up and down, dragging their erections against one another. Fuck, Roger thinks, should it feel so damn good?
When Mark pulls back both of them groan. Mark sits up, fishing around his desk for something. He smiles down at Roger, that cute lopsided grin that makes him look young and scared. "Have you ever done this before?"
The panic in Roger's chest that had been muffled by Mark's kisses starts to bubble over again. Roger tries to wiggle away, but Mark is sitting on top of him and all Roger does is remind himself why he's bellow this beautiful boy in the first place. He doesn't feel like answering Mark's question, so instead he asks, "Have you?"
Mark looks down, biting at his already tender lower lip. "I've seen films," he admits.
"I don't thinking watching movies is quite the same as doing something in real life."
Mark laughs, that tint of pink in his cheeks coming back. "I think we can manage." Every time Mark blushes, Roger gets a rush. He wants to push the other boy against the wall, feel Mark moving against him as Roger goes fast and hard.
"Here." Mark manages to find a small bottle sitting on the desk. "Will this do?" Mark asks, holding the lube up for Roger to see.
He squints his eyes as if he's really looking at the bottle. "Um... Yeah" He swallows when Mark pours some of the oil over Roger's hand. Maybe now would be a good time to admit that he doesn't know what he's doing.
He knows enough to warn Mark. "This might hurt a little."
Mark kisses Roger's right cheek. "That's all right." His voice is shaking just as much as he is, his smile more nervous then Roger feels. This shouldn't make Roger want him more, but it does.
Roger grabs Mark's hip, hard enough that he's afraid he might end up bruising the pale skin beneath his fingers. His other hand, sticky and wet with lube, makes its way under Mark's body. Mark's trembling, his breathing already shallow and uneven, and that cute flush spreading all the way down to his belly button.
Roger slips a finger in, causing Mark to jerk away, a small yelp coming from his throat. Before Roger can ask if he's all right, Mark says, "Keep going."
As if to make sure Roger doesn't back out, Mark leans over for a kiss. Mark's teeth worry Roger's lower lip, sucking the swollen skin into his mouth, tugging and playing with the tender flesh. His hands let go of Roger's shoulders, running further down his chest. Hot fingers brush against Roger's nipples, pinching and teasing and mimicking the rough bites and gentle licks Mark is placing on his mouth.
Roger forgets all about everything but the feel of Mark against him until the other boy says, "Roger, I'm fine."
Roger isn't. He's not sure he can move, not without pushing Mark to the bed or coming right there. Still, he manages to get a hold of his hand, pushing up into Mark, nice and slow. Roger can feel the other boy's breath catch, still biting at the bruised lip. He pulls back only to place the same sort of kisses along Roger's jaw line. "It's okay," he says, working his way to Roger's ear. "Don't stop."
Roger adds another finger, arching against Mark when sharp teeth nibble at his ear lobe. A tongue traces the edges of his ear, dipping in and out in time with Roger's gentle thrusts.
In Roger's ear, Mark's voice is barely more than a breath. "Don't stop." As if Roger could. Lips and teeth and skin and heat and Mark's cock moving against his. Roger wants to roll over, push Mark to the bed and just fuck him already, hard and fast. He wants more of those whispers and sighs that Mark breathes into his ear every time Roger's fingers press up against him. He adds a third, and by now Mark is pushing back, hoarse cries being dragged from the back of his throat.
When Roger pulls out Mark's moans turn into a low, pleading whimper. His desperation probably shouldn't make Roger harder, but it does.
"You should-" Roger doesn't even finish before Mark is pulling back, spreading himself down on the bed. Shit. Shit. Shit. This blond, beautiful kid is sitting back on the bed, legs spread and whole body flushed pink. His lips are opened and bruised, his cock leaking against his stomach. He leans back on his elbows and Roger can see the lube glistening on his skin. Fuck, Roger thinks, with Mark looking like that he's not going to be able to last more than a minute.
After a while, the boy starts fidgeting. "Something wrong?"
Roger shakes his head, trying to get himself under control. "No," he answers. He meets Mark's eyes and watches the smile light up the other boy's face. He's definitely blushing. "No, it's..."
He swallows, unable to finish his own thoughts. Roger moves up the bed, one hand grabbing hold of Mark's shoulder as the other falls between the boy's legs. He brushes up the soft skin of Mark's inner thigh. The boy's head falls back, his breath catching in his throat. He spreads his legs further apart, begging Roger to hurry up.
Roger closes his eyes and pictures his mom, his grandmother, he's fifth grade teacher. Anything to keep him from shooting before he's even inside Mark.
Mark doesn't make this any easier. The small, choked breaths turn into moans. "Roger, please." Roger braces himself against Mark's waist, leaning forward to capture Mark's lips. All he needs now is Mark begging. He's not going to be able to do anything if the other boy keeps that up.
Before they can do anything more, Mark jerks back quickly enough that Roger nearly tumbles down on top him. "What?" Roger asks, barely able to catch himself in time. Shit. Mark is backing out, he just knows it.
"Condom," Mark explains. He points back to his desk. "There are some right over there."
Roger grimaces as he leans back, hand patting down the table until he finds what he's looking for. Fuck, how could he have forgotten something like that? Mark probably thinks he is a fucking moron. When he finally manages to get the condom out of the package, he's almost afraid of looking up at Mark. Roger should know better than to forget protection.
When Roger does look, Mark is watching Roger, his blue eyes dark and scanning over every inch of Roger's skin. His whole body moves with every breath he takes, his cock bobbing against his stomach. He's definitely not upset.
Still, Roger is more carefully when he leans back over Mark, placing a chaste kiss to his lips. "Ready?"
Mark's hands tangle into Roger's hair, making him loose his balance, and taking Roger with him. His lips crash against Roger's, forceful and feverish as he tries to press their bodies into the same space. Roger's nails are digging into Mark's shoulders. Gentleness is forgotten as Mark drags their cocks together, thrusting up against Roger as needy cries and groans are pulled from his throat.
It's Mark who eventually pulls away. There is no way Roger would have stopped, and when he finds himself suddenly without the hot, frantic contact it takes his mind a while to starts up again.
"Roger?" Mark's voice brings Roger back. The musician smiles down at the boy under him the best he can. Most of his energy is being spent trying to breath.
Mark smile makes him look like he's laughing at Roger. He leans forward, placing a quick kiss on Roger's lower lip. "You there?" He asks.
Roger's about to answer yes, or no, or something, but Mark has a leg hooked around Roger's waist, and he's pressing himself against Roger's skin. It's hard to talk with Mark moving under him like that, rubbing Roger's erection down against his thigh.
Mark reaches down, slipping the condom on for Roger. He's playing with Roger's lower lip again, sucking it in-between his teeth as his hands roam up Roger's chest. "Roger?"
"Yeah?" Roger's voice cracks over that one word. He moans when he pulls away, his lower lip stretching out as Mark drags it through his teeth. His hands are on either side of Mark's waist, steadying himself.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Roger groans burying his head in Mark's shoulder as he pushes forward. It's all tight and hot and fucking hell, Roger had better get himself under control. Mark little whines and cries goes straight from his throat to Roger's cock. Mark wiggles against Roger, and it's all he can do not to pump in with one, rough motion.
"Are you-" Mark has his hand on Roger's waist, urging him to go faster. Roger's question turns into a groan as he slips further into Mark. There is no way he's going to be able to keep going this slow, not with Mark already moving against him, making those desperate, wanton sounds.
"Yes." Mark hisses, head back and nails digging into Roger's hips. Roger can't move, can hardly breath. Mark's muscles contract around him, sending a shiver up Roger's spine. There's no way it should feel this good.
"Move," Mark commands, his voice rough as he tries pushing himself down against Roger's cock. "Come on, Roger." Like Roger needed to be told.
"Fuck!" Roger thrusts back into Mark, and the young man arches back. "Faster. Come on, Roger. Faster, please." This all comes out in one breath, broken and ragged.
Roger finds himself unable to do anything but obey. He bites down on the skin of Mark's neck, rocking back and fourth, in and out, following Mark's voice with each new, "Harder... Faster... More... God, yes. Please. Roger. More." His hand dips between the two moving bodies, fisting around Mark's hard, smooth cock. He runs a finger through the precum collected at the tip, dragging it down the length, still thrusting in and out as Mark's cries grow more incoherent.
Mark's erection is hot and heavy in his hand. He moves his fist up and down, trying to find the same rhythm he's using to pound into Mark. He can feel the heat around his own cock start to tighten. When Mark comes, he arches up, slamming himself down hard enough to make Roger scream.
It's not long before Roger is following Mark down, muffling his scream against hot, sweaty skin as he collapses against the warm body. Still buried deep in Mark and with the mess between their stomachs, Roger can't find it in himself to move.
After Mark manages to catch his breath, he wiggles out from under Roger. He finds a blanket on the floor and curls it around his pale, shimmering skin, leaving Roger to do what he will.
Neither boy says a thing before falling a sleep.
*
Shit.
Roger tries to stay completely still. He tries not to panic. He can't move his right arm, which is tucked under the warm body next to him and completely numb. He can feel the hardened remains of sex sticking to his stomach.
Shit. What the hell is wrong with him?
Roger has never been good at one-night stands. He doesn't usually have to worry about it. He's a horrible flirt, and any girl who tries to pick him up usually ends up walking away shaking her head. When one does drag him to bed, he usually leaves the next morning, stumbling out the door and muttering a pathetic apology.
Of course, he usually only goes home with girls after he is too drunk to think or the occasional line of coke has made him all to glad to follow her back to the apartment. He definitely didn't go with young, cute boys back to their place. Boys that seem to actually like Roger, and boys he wouldn't mind liking back. In fact, he hardly ever really likes the women he sleeps with, because usually he's so out of his head it doesn't matter. April being the big expectation.
Shit. April.
Roger knows they aren't exactly mutual. At least, April isn't exactly mutual. Roger, he couldn't dream of cheating on his girlfriend like that. No unless it is with some cute college drop out with short blond hair and a lopsided smile, it turns out.
There's no way in hell he's going to be able to explain this.
Mark is on his side. His lips have turned a deep, unnatural red from the bruising, and the skin around them is shades of black and blue. He's curled up around a pillow, using it as a teddy bear or some sort of human shield against Roger.
Roger closes his eyes and tries to get his hand to move. Failing this, he leans over and nudges the other boy in the shoulder. "Mark." The young boy groans and hugs the pillow closer. "Mark, you have to get up. I can't move my arm."
Mark makes a noise of protest, but rolls over enough that Roger can free his hand. He shivers as that painfully, ticking feel starts to tingle through his limb. At least he can get out of bed. Roger crawls off the mattress as smoothly as possible, searching the small room for his clothes. He looks down at himself, still covered in cum. Shit. No way he wants April to see that. He nudges Mark again.
"Hey, where's your shower?"
"Commune," Mark mutters. "Down the hall."
There's no way Roger wants to let other people see him like this. "Thanks." He starts looking for his clothes again. Maybe April won't be at the loft. Maybe Collins and Benny will be a sleep. Maybe he won't see a single person he knows all day.
Shit.
Mark yawns, causing Roger to freeze up. The boy stretches his arms over his head, his eyes starting to flutter open. He squints through the darkness of the room, focusing on Roger. "Hey," He murmurs, still stretching.
"Hey," Roger answers. He winces the second the words leave his mouth. He has no idea how he's going to explain this to Mark. "Look I've... I've got to go." He sits down on the edge of the bed, back to Mark so that he doesn't have to see his expression, and starts pulling up his pants.
"Cool," Mark says, and Roger visibly relaxes. "See you around, I guess."
"Oh." Shit. That's right, Mark's a fan of the band. Roger couldn't have possibly messed this up any more. He closes his eyes and counts to ten. "I... Just want to say... I'm not... You know," Roger tries to explain and ends up just stumbling over ever word. He doesn't usual pick up eighteen-year old students from the bar and go back to their dorm to fuck. He definitely doesn't make it a habit with eighteen-year-old male students.
Yet here he is, sitting on the edge of Mark's bed with his jeans pulled down around his knees. He looks back at Mark, still lying under the covers. Yes, he is most definitely a guy. A really cute one, no doubt, and even more so when his skin is flushed and his hair is mused and he just looks so...
Mark starts to sit up and the blankets fall away from his chest. Roger quickly turns away. "Are you?" Roger asks, quickly glancing up before turning back to study his fidgeting hands.
"Bi, actually." Mark is reaching past Roger, fishing for something on the desk. Roger can feel the body heat pouring off him. He can't help but shiver. "Love and lust shouldn't be limited to outward appearances. It's fine if you're not, though." The boy slips on his glasses. He looks a lot younger with them on. He grins, that lopsided smile that makes Roger's stomach do flips, and adjusts the frames on his face. "There, now I can see."
Roger can't help but wince. He feels guilty enough about leaving without Mark being so cool about it. Roger looks back down at his lap, standing off the bed so he can pull his jeans back on. "Well... Um... I have to go."
"Later," Mark says. He doesn't look at all upset by the idea of Roger leaving. Somehow, this doesn't make Roger feel any better.
"I hope so," Roger says without thinking. He's glad the room is mostly dark, because he can feel himself blushing. He just decided that this whole thing is a mistake, and now he's leading the other boy on. Way too go, Roger. "I mean... You seem like... You know, a nice guy."
"And you seem like, you know, a nice guy, too." Mark teases. Roger snorts, reaching across the bed to nick Mark in the shoulder. "Hey!" The other boy jumps, lightly smacking Roger on the outside of the arm. Roger chuckles and falls back into bed as Mark over does a pout. He's rubbing the spot where Roger had barely touched him. "I bruise easily."
"Baby," Roger says. Mark sticks out his tongue, and Roger laughs until someone pounds on the wall.
"Trying to sleep!"
Mark reaches forward to put a hand over Roger's mouth, holding one finger to his own and whispering, "Shh!" He nods to the wall. "They're trying to sleep." He knocks against the plaster and says, "Built to spread fires."
With Mark's hand over his mouth, Roger knows that if the other boy can't see him blushing he can probably feel it. People could hear them through those walls? And with all the sound they had been making earlier...
Mark says, "Hey, they have parties at least three times a week." He smiles, a mischievous grin that makes Roger's breathe catch for a few seconds. He leans forward until his face is only inches away from Roger's. Roger's glad the other boy's hand is still over his mouth, or else he might do something incredible stupid. "Thanks for helping me get them back."
Mark needs to back away before Roger ends up doing a whole lot more than leading him on. On his first instinct, Roger licks at Mark's palm. The other boy squeals, pulling away from Roger so fast that the whole bed shakes when he hits the back wall.
Roger is holding his stomach, trying to breath while he laughs. "Ticklish?"
Mark is still smiling when he says, "Fuck you!" He reaches across the bed, running his salvia covered hand down Roger's jeans.
"Hey!" Roger protests, jerking his leg away. "Watch it!" Mark follows him across the bed, not at all embarrassed when the last of the covers falls away. He's careful not to touch anything but Roger's jean with his wet hand. It's hard for Roger to be to stealthy when he's laughing, and Mark is half on his lap. Then again, it's hard for Mark to pin Roger down when he can only use one hand and he's so much smaller.
Still, he manages to get Roger flat on the bed, sitting on top of Roger's stomach. "Ha!" Mark says, wiping the last of the spit across Roger's waistline. Roger is still chuckling when he notices that Mark's hand is still going back and forth across his leg. Roger's laughter turns into a sort of breathlessness, and his hips press against Mark's hand, leading it a little further down...
Shit. "I have to go," Roger says, breaking Mark out of his hypnotic petting. The other boy looks up, cheeks flushed and eyes darkening. Shit. Shit. Shit. "I... Um... I have to..."
"Yeah." Mark crawls back towards the front of the bed. Roger can see the blush in his cheeks go down to his chest. Mark's body is still flushed from their first round, and from looks of it wouldn't mind a follow up.
Roger closes his eyes and feels his way off the bed. His shirt, he needs to get his shirt and jacket and out of here. He needs to do all of this without looking at or touching Mark.
When Roger is finished dressing, Mark has pulled on his boxers and sweater. He looks incredibly young like that, definitely not the sort of person that belongs on the streets of New York.
It's another non-thinking moment when Roger says, "You know, me and a couple of friends rent this loft." Mark looks up. He really does look too young to be on his own. "It's pretty shitty, but... Um... If you need a place to stay."
"Really?" The way Mark says it pretty much guarantees Roger's inability to say no.
"Yeah." He goes to Mark's desk, fishing around for a pen and paper. He quickly scrawls out the address and number of the apartment. "You'll like Collins and Benny, I think... Oh, and April, my girlfriend."
He tries to throw it out there as subtlety as possible and grimaces when he realizes just how bad it sounds. Mark is more interested in the apartment than hearing about Roger's relationship. "It's right here in Manhattan!" He says, looking over the address. He looks up at Roger and asks, "How much does it cost?"
Roger shrugs. "We all chip in what we can," he explains. Mark nods, licking his lips. He looks so excited, Roger's surprised he isn't screaming. "You seem like you'll be a cool roommate."
"I try," Mark says, smiling up at Roger.
It's not like Roger just wants to be around him. He has a girlfriend, and Mark does honestly seem like he'll be fun to hang out with. It will be Roger's good deed of the year. It has nothing to do with the way Mark smiles.
"You'll have to share a room with me." Roger closes his eyes after he says that, mentally berating himself. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. "I mean, me and April," he adds.
Mark doesn't look put off. He picks up the sheet of paper and walks across the room, sticking it in a dark black bag. "Camera's in here," Mark explains. "It's the one thing I'll never loose."
"Oh, okay," Roger doesn't know how he feels about that. He doesn't want to think about how he feels about that. "I guess I better be going."
Before he can leave, Mark calls out, "Roger?"
"Yeah," Roger's hand is on the doorknob, anxious to get him out of this situation and back to the real world, where things with April are so much less confusion.
But then, maybe what he wants is for Mark to tell him it would be okay to stay the night, just this once. Maybe reality is the last place Roger should be right then.
Mark just smiles. "See you on Monday."
"Right," Roger says. "Tomorrow."
- 1
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Only In New York