Title: Their Second Time
Rating: Hard R/Light NC-17
Word Count: 1912
Pairing: mentions of Roger/Mimi, brief mention of Roger/April, Roger/Mark
Summary: Mark and Roger had been lovers before.
Warning: smut, mentions of, but not explicit: boysex, drunken boysex,
Notes: This started because I wanted to get going on my 50rentedsmiles
table. Initially it was going to be a short smut fic based on the prompt 'Tattoo'... that didn't work out the way I planned.
Special Thanks: To everyone who cheered me on especially my fellow co-mods atseriouslyrent COUGH pimpage COUGH
Disclaimer: The characters of Rent are not mine...I just like to play with them
Mark and Roger had been lovers before. Passionate, caring, needy, loving. But they hadn't lasted. Mark went to his work and Roger? Roger went to smack and a lovely junkie named April. So many things had happened between their first time so many years ago and now.
The second first time it was an accident of sorts. Neither had intended they end up entwined in Marks bed by the end of the night but everything seemed to push them in that direction. Mimi had left. Gone to live out her days with her parents, and the friends she left behind after running away. She still called every other day to make sure all was well with them, and to return the favor. That day she called in tears. Roger wasn't home, he had gotten himself a job to keep him busy and out of the loft so Mark had answered and gotten the news. Mimi got her blood test results today…T-cell count of 185…full blown AIDS.
Mark had consoled her, told her what she needed to hear and promised to have Roger call when he got home. Mimi made him promise not to say anything, and though Mark knew it would be hard, he agreed.
When Roger returned he was all smiles. He had gotten a raise and wanted to take Mark out to the bar to celebrate. Solemnly, Mark shook his head and told him to call Mimi before walking into his room to keep from overhearing their conversation. It wasn't his place.
Mark has seen Roger cry more times then he'd like too, so he knows the signs. Red nose, eyes, and cheeks, puffiness and a embarrassment that came from the fact that Roger insisted 'Rockers don't cry.' So when Roger walked into Marks room looking for all to see as if he had just cried a million tears, all Mark could do was take him in his arms.
They sat that way for hours. Roger, crying for his lovely little dancer, Mark, mumbling soft, nonsense words to his broken rocker. Slowly Roger came to a little and mumbled something that made Mark laugh and the tension was broken. They were back to the way they were before Mimi's call…almost.
They still went to the bar that night. They toasted Roger's raise, Mimi's courage, Marks steadfastness, Angel's life, Collins' disregard for apparel, Maureen's disregard for celibacy, and Joanne's…lawyer-ness. They drank and drank and drank. Beer, rum, vodka, tequila, even wine was consumed that night. They both knew the perils of mixing drinks but neither cared.
The trek back to the loft was a rough one. If Mark wasn't laughing and falling on his ass then Roger was. After a while they steady themselves on each other and walked slowly and sloppily back. They reminisced about old times. The Christmas Roger met Mimi, the Christmas Roger almost lost Mimi, the Christmas that Mark almost lost Roger. Both declared, in a fit of laughter, that they would both sleep through Christmas this year as it seems everything that happens during Christmas ends up, in one way or another, badly.
Mark was the first to run into the bathroom when they had reached the loft. Roger sat beside him, stroking his hair and back. Soon they traded places and when it was all over they fell on the floor laughing at their actions. They cleaned up together, Roger cleaning Mark, Mark cleaning Roger, both laughing, and leaning on each other. After it all they separated and went to their own rooms to sleep it off.
Normally when Mark is drunk nothing can wake him. It was a game to his roommates. They each took a turn trying to find ways to make the drunk filmmaker jolt out of bed. Roger participated regularly but never used the one thing he knew would wake him.
Mark moaned as he felt a pair of lips brush against his. Instinctively he reached around and tangled his hand in the hair and the nape of the neck that was connected to the head that was kissing him. He didn't know, at that moment, who it was, why they did it, or even whether he was dreaming or not. All he knew was that it felt good and he didn't want it to stop.
Only when lack of oxygen threatened did Mark grasp the hair and pull looking into the eyes of his best friend, roommate, and former lover.
Mark flashed back to their first time when the exact same words were muttered. He remembered the feel of Rogers callused hands on his body, the warmth of Rogers breath on his skin, and the feelings Rogers actions caused each and every time...and was instantly taken into his deep, feeling green eyes.
Roger leaned down once more to capture Marks lips in his roughly, needy. It was all teeth and tongue and wet and hot and Mark thought that if Roger didn't move faster he would explode with feeling. He needed this…he had needed Roger for a long time but he would never say anything for fear that the feeling wasn't mutual. He still didn't know if the feeling was mutual or if Roger was drunk, or if the news of Mimi's soon death had caused this but at that point in time Mark didn't care.
Their second first time was slow, agonizingly slow. Mark liked to think it was special. He liked to imagine that there wasn't alcohol on their breaths and in their systems. Liked to imagine that Roger really wanted this, wanted him...as badly as he wanted Roger. Liked to imagine that the name on Rogers lips as he filled the walls of the condom was his.
Their second, second time was no accident, but it was unexpected. There was no alcohol involved, no emotional crisis, just Mark and Roger.
They were talking, just talking, normal, simple, safe, when it happened again. Mark said something that made Roger chuckle and between the safe feeling, Rogers smile and laugh something in Mark snapped. He leaned over the couch and pressed his lips to Rogers, light at first. Roger stopped laughing instantly and a shock look came into his eyes before he relaxed and kissed back.
This time there was no teeth and tongue and wet and hot. There was no pleading and begging and need. It was slow, but not painfully slow. Mark showed the love he felt for Roger the only way he knew how. Hopping, needing, wanting Roger to understand, to get it, to give it back.
Roger did understand, but didn't know what to do. He remembered the way it felt for Mark to hold hin in his arms the way he was now. He remembered the way Mark moved within him, breathed his name, made him moan. He remembered the love he felt that he thought was all but gone. He remembered all that, and yet...
He couldn't let go of his little dancer, the one that he thought he loved with all his heart and soul. He remembered her smile, exuberant nature, her touch. It was all different and yet so much the same. They both loved him he knew, and in the back of his mind he could tell that he loved them both back.
This time, when Roger filled the walls of the condom no name was muttered. It was only a loud, deep groan that passed through his body and into Marks. Once again Mark exploded with feeling, calling out the name of his lover before falling onto his chest.
Mark muttered "I love you" Roger muttered, "I know."
The second, third time wasn't an accident, and wasn't unintentional. Roger had planned it.
He had to know, had to see if what he was feeling for the past two weeks since their last time was real. It felt like it was...but he didn't seem to know anymore. How could a person love two people at the same time? Which was true? Did he love Mark only because he was there, close, alive? Did he love Mimi only because she was away, and dying?
Mark had come home late from filming. He had been coming home late from filming every day since their last time. Roger wasn't sure if it was embarrassment of some sort or because he didn't know if he could control himself. They gave each other sideways glances every day. Little looks of longing that, Mark though, would never be fulfilled.
Roger waited up on the couch for Mark that night. He had to be sure, he had to know...which meant he had to let go. Let go of all worry that some one may see them. Let go of the worry that Mimi might find out. Let go to the feelings he might be feeling.
The moment Mark stepped into the loft Roger was near him, with a hand on his shoulder. He wanted to take it slow, wanted to make it last and most importantly he didn't want to scare Mark off. So he took it slow, guiding Mark to the couch sitting close together, talking in soft tones about each others day as the confusion in Marks eyes grew. Finally before Mark could ask Roger a question he wasn't willing to answer he pressed his lips against the filmmaker's in a hot passionate kiss.
Marks eyes were the ones to grow wide this time as he felt Rogers lips press against his, his tongue dart across their opening, and his own lips seemingly parting of their own accord. This is what he wanted. A conscience Roger kissing him, hands roaming, teeth clashing.
This time it was teeth and tongue and hot and wet...and something else too. Both boys felt the underlying tone that made this time so different from the others. There was a spark, a jolt on energy that passed through both their lips and down their bodies. They both wanted it to be special...except it didn't seem to work out that way.
They left a trail of clothing toward Rogers bedroom keeping in some kind of contact the entire way. Roger took the lead and Mark had willingly given himself to him. Letting him use his body for whatever he wanted...whatever he needed.
It was fast yet slow, needy yet loving, rough yet soft as the two boys spent hours just with each other. This time when Mark let Roger release and fill the walls of the condom, it was his gentle filmmaker's name that rolled off his lips. It was the answer he needed.
The next morning they woke entangled together, smiles on both their faces. Roger couldn't help but laugh at the marks on Mark's neck and shoulders, Mark couldn't help but laugh at Rogers hair sticking up in all directions, and laying completely pressed against his head in the back. They lay there, naked and laughing, and clutching and kissing. And when Mark mumbled "I love you", Roger mumbled it back.