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The morning sun streams into Mark's window like a fucking home intruder; invasive, unwelcome, uninvited. All Mark wants to do is roll over, put his pillow over top of his head and drift back into the soft welcoming abyss of sleep. But he actually has things to do today, or rather Jeremy has things he needs to do and Mark has already told him that he isn't going to let him oversleep this time.
What would he ever do without me? It's embarrassing how badly he needs me
He feels sort of smug about it if he's being honest. Jeremy is a grown man, 'mid thirties' now feels inevitable and it's hurtling towards both of them at a speed Mark assumes is just as uncomfortable for Jeremy as it is for him.
Probably even more so for Jez, no career, no wife, no future. Bleak. At least I have a decent soul crushing job and a fiance who hates me like a real person.
Well, at least if Mark has any say so, by the end of the day Jeremy will also have a job where he can sell pieces of his soul to earn a paycheck and presumably start paying Mark back for all his rent and contributing more to the grocery budget like the rest of the sane world. The dream.
Maybe he could eventually save up enough to move out, find somewhere on his own. Ok don't get ahead of yourself Mark, need to at least get him up and to the interview first.
The last thing Jeremy said before going to bed last night was "If you don't wake me, I won't go." And fuck if Mark is going to let this opportunity pass by giving him that excuse. Absolutely not.
As Mark pulls on his robe overtop of the pyjamas Jeremy so enjoys giving him a hard time about ("Jesus Mark how do you ever expect to get anything from a woman wearing something like that" while gesturing wildly, making an up and down motion with his hand to really hammer his point home), he honestly just hopes Jeremy hasn't done something ridiculous like lock him out with the intent of not answering the door and then feigning innocence, claiming he didn't hear Mark banging on the door and calling out for him.
That's just exactly the sort of thing he would do, the lazy bastard
The hallway outside of his bedroom is silent, Jeremy definitely hasn't woken up on his own yet. Mark gives a small rap on the door with the knuckle of his pointer finger, more of a tap than a pound. He doesn't hear Jeremy stirring yet. He knocks again, less tentatively this time and waits for a response. Nothing.
Should I just...open the door? Could be rude, though Jeremy has never minded coming into mine completely unannounced and he should be anticipating this. He should have woken up at the knock if he wanted privacy
Mark softly presses the door open, even the jarring sound of it creaking isn't enough to make Jeremy stir because there he is, laying curled on his side, completely still. And Mark stops dead in his tracks, not because of Jeremy's heavy sleep but because of what he's doing while he sleeps.
Oh my God, is he...he can't be, can he?
There, in nothing more than a pair of thin boxer shorts and his sheets haphazardly pulled around him, is Jez with his thumb in his mouth, sucking. Mark can even hear the soft, rhythmic sounds of Jeremy's mouth latched onto it in the silence of the room.
Mark almost feels like he must not be fully comprehending what he's seeing, surely this can't be right. He knows he should make some noise or walk out to save Jeremy some of his dignity. There's no way he'd want Mark, or anyone, to see him doing this.
But his feet feel cemented in place, he can't take his eyes off of Jeremy, it's like he's under a spell.
One that makes you watch your 36 year old mate sucking on his thumb
It feels like the image is searing into Mark's brain, permanently etching itself into his memory and there's nothing Mark can do about it. So he just stands there in his robe and his matching pyjama set, watching. It looks so natural, how long has Jeremy done this? How often does it happen? Have any of his girlfriends ever noticed? If they did, have they ever told him? Does Jeremy even know he's doing it?
The questions swirl unanswered in Mark's head as he stands in Jeremy's messy, half painted bedroom. And he just looks so peaceful and contented bundled in his dirty sheets, Mark isn't sure if he's ever felt as safe as Jeremy looks right now. Mark doesn't remember ever sucking his thumb, never affording himself any self soothing tactic even as a child, a true master of denial.
Jeremy with his messy, almost imperceptibly thinning hair and his silly, immature posters on the wall and his still lanky body folded in on itself with his thumb in his mouth. Mark feels a rush of affection for Jeremy he has seldom ever felt for anyone.
And unfortunately he feels his body...reacting to the scene in front of him before he's fully able to shut it down. To his horror, his pyjama bottoms suddenly feel tighter, he can see the bit of saliva shining slick and wet around where Jeremy's lips are wrapped around his own finger.
This is horrible, this is quite possibly the worst thing that has ever happened to anyone ever, it's completely inappropriate, it's -
His thoughts are interrupted by a small, breathy sound on the other side of the room as Jeremy all but moans around his finger and turns over without ever removing it from his mouth and Mark can now clearly see the tent in the front of Jeremy's pants as he changes positions. Mark feels the heat rising into his cheeks and the tips of his ears.
Okay this is a bit too rich for me
Mark clears his throat as loud as he can without causing his voice to crack.
"Erm, excuse me Jez, you've instructed me to wake you and so here I am, waking you." His voice is coming out a bit soft and muffled. Shy Mark realizes in horror.
So Mark does the only thing he knows how to do when he feels the horrible, unpleasant ache in the lower half of his body and the dark, inky shame leaking out and poisoning the rest of him with almost painful discomfort.
He gets mean.
"Time to get up Jez, get up you lazy piece of -"
Mark's voice is cut off by the faint pop of Jeremy's thumb coming out of his mouth followed by an annoyed groan of,
"Oh come off it Mark, bloody hell, it's barely even morning" Jeremy's looking at him and rubbing his eyes, still heavy with sleep.
Mark has to physically turn to avert his eyes from the view of Jeremy throwing his arms back behind him as he arches his body up off the bed in an obnoxious early morning stretch. Even with his fists clenched Mark can still see the saliva, slick and shining on his thumb and his morning erection still protruding obscenely in his boxers.
He just truly does not give one single solitary fuck
"Make yourself decent and I'll get you the directions before you leave." His voice is curt and he's already turning to get out of the room as quickly as he possibly can without actually rousing suspicion that he's rushing.
Mark is already making them both tea and toast by the time Jeremy emerges, finally dressed in one of the old suits he gifted to Jeremy after his weight gain a few years back. It looks rumpled and still not quite appropriately fitted but it's better than whatever stupid graphic tshirt Jeremy would have chosen for himself in the absence of a proper suit.
"We'll probably need to get you another of those once you get the job, you'll certainly need more than one." Mark is just trying to fill the air with drivel to distract himself from the fact that he just had to talk his body down from full hysteria upon leaving Jeremy's room.
Jeremy's barely listening, seemingly pouting over the fact that he's expected to actually get this job instead of self sabotaging the way he normally does to get out of these things.
"Huh? Oh yeah, yeah I suppose so. Say Mark, what's going to happen if I don't actually get this job? I know you've pulled in a favor from Barbara's old boss, but what's going to happen if I'm still not chosen?" Mark can tell just from the way his voice sounds that he's already trying to make excuses for staying unemployed.
"You'll get it Jez, you have to remember you have a degree, you're not a complete invalid. Just don't go in there acting like a....like a petulant toddler." His voice almost waivers as the image of Jeremy curled in on himself, sucking his thumb in bed cuts back to the front of his mind. His ears burn.
"Yeah, yeah, sure I guess. Just don't know if this is a good idea, me working and everything. Is this just because of your..." he trails off, hesitant. "engagement?"
Lovely now my engagement is so devastating that it's become an awkward topic of conversation even amongst my closest friends. Perfect.
"No don't be ridiculous it's just..." now Mark's the one hesitating, "you need skills Jez, you need professional experience, you need to be able to sort yourself out, I won't be here forever." It comes out heavier than he was intending.
Jeremy chews on the corner of his nail with a thoughtful expression etched across his usually relaxed features. His brow furrows slightly and he looks up through his lashes at the neutral expression on Mark's face, as if he's trying to work out what he really meant by that last statement. Mark has to consciously stop himself from staring at Jeremy's mouth worrying at his cuticle.
"But if I don't have you, I don't, I mean, it won't...make sense. to me." He speaks like there are so many other things he would rather be saying but he's forcing himself to condense them all into the most simple sentence he can.
Mark feels an uncomfortable twinge in his chest looking at Jez. Thinks of Jeremy's father seeing the same face and deciding it was better to leave forever than to stay and look at him. It's something just on the cusp of pain, something that feels suspiciously protective. Longing.
"Oh cheer up mate, we'll always be..." don't say together, don't say together, "here, in a sense." He has to force himself to make eye contact at least for a brief moment to really sell it but he isn't sure if he's trying to sell it to himself or to Jeremy but either way he can feel it dying in the air between them.
And he really shouldn't but he's thinking about Jeremy's father again, Jeremy doesn't mention him all that often but when he does it's always obviously painful and said through gritted teeth. He wonders if one day Jeremy will talk about him the same way. Bitter, regretful, past tense.
Mark can feel the air between the imbued with something palpable that feels suspiciously like some sickening mass of ache and rot and tightly restrained affection. He shoves his hands in the pockets of his robe and stares at the floor like it's the most interesting thing in the world.
Coward. Even the voice in his own head sounds bitter.
"Guess I should be getting on then, don't want to be late." Now it's Jeremy's turn to sound bitter as he heads out of the kitchen without even a glance back towards Mark.
"Good luck mate."
"Thanks mate." Jeremy throws back in a way that almost sounds sarcastic.
Whatever it'll blow over, it always does. Soon you'll get to be with lovely Sophie all the time forever and none of this will even matter.
The words don't sound the least bit convincing but at least he's thought them, and that has to count for something.
************
Time's going by more quickly these days and Mark doesn't know how exactly he's supposed to feel about it.
On the one hand it's always one day closer to death, on the other, I'm losing everything that makes me want to stay alive, so who's to say if it's a good or a bad thing.
As his wedding day is creeping closer, he does everything he possibly can to avoid the topic with everyone. With Sophie, with his parents, colleagues, acquaintances, etc but there is no one he wishes he could never speak of it again with more than Jez.
Jeremy, who didn't end up getting that job, who Mark is decently positive didn't even attend that interview because he came home quite a bit later than expected, smelling of stale lager and peanuts and shut himself in his room for the remainder of that evening and avoided Mark's questions about it like the plague the following day.
If Mark's being honest with himself, he couldn't even bring himself to wheedle it out of Jeremy because there has been a rising tension between them. Whenever anyone asks Mark about wedding plans, his honeymoon, jokes about babies on the horizon in front of Jeremy, he audibly huffs and looks like he's fighting for his life to keep himself from rolling his eyes. And Mark feels some intangible, mysterious emotion that makes the black hole inside of him grow a little bigger, get a little hungrier, but he tries not to look it in the face because he's afraid of what he'll see.
And really, he feels the same way about mirrors these days. He barely even looks like himself after becoming Sophie's little...project. Stupid, itchy facial hair and too tight, 'fashionable' clothing, it's all ridiculous. Jeremy never says anything, but Mark knows he feels the same way, misses the old him. The bitter, thinly veiled disgust in his eyes says more than could ever be conveyed by mere words. Mark tells himself it doesn't sting nearly as much as it does.
If Sophie's happy, which she mostly seems to be, why should anything else even matter?
He spends most of his days feeling like he's missing something, like some of his nonessential organs have been replaced by sawdust and synthetic garb. Placeholders where the organic material used to be.
The only relief comes during the moments where they can both forget that they're on a timer. Quiet evenings when Mark has managed to ignore Sophie for long enough that she stops calling, weekends when she's busy with the girls who he's pretty sure hate him and advise her to leave.
And she should probably listen to them, why can't she ever just take their advice?
Tonight is one of those nights, Sophie's already at her parents' place in the countryside waiting patiently for Mark (and Jez, so long as he'll still be willing to accompany him to such a hellish event) to arrive the following afternoon.
Meeting Sophie's parents, can't possibly think of anything worse than spending a weekend telling the woman I don't love's family how much I love her. At least Jez will be there, my moral support
They've ordered just enough takeout to overeat without leaving any leftovers to rot in the fridge while they're away for the weekend. Jeremy's body is stretched the entire length of the couch while Mark sits in his chair, gesturing wildly and talking loudly about some common historical misconception present in the documentary they're watching while Jeremy laughs and hits his bong.
They're both slightly tipsy, rosy cheeked from cheap wine. Mark can't even find it in himself to complain about the smell of marijuana in the flat. Not tonight, anyways, save that for another day where things don't feel so good.
As much as Mark has tried to will the memory of Jeremy and his thumb out of his mind, he hasn't been able to fully move on, much less entirely forget it.
He's just tipsy enough to really look at Jez tonight, something he rarely allows himself to do for reasons that are secrets he keeps from himself. But there he is, the color in his cheeks brings out the blue in his eyes. A subtle dusting of freckles painted just so over the bridge of his nose. Eyelashes that are just slightly lighter than average, a result of his soft red hair no doubt. His kind, expressive face. Mark almost forgets why he's supposed to be getting rid of him soon.
Jeremy must notice Mark staring because he swipes the pad of his thumb across his lower lip, as if trying to remove something embarrassing from his face. "Do I have something here?" He looks self conscious.
Can't even look at him without making him think something's wrong
Unfortunately the alcohol has lowered his inhibitions enough that he wants....he doesn't exactly know what he wants. Jeremy just looks so nice at the moment, so open and relaxed, exactly himself.
Before Mark can think it through he stands from his spot in the chair, feels a minor head rush from the abruptness of the action.
"Yes actually, you do have a bit of something" Mark makes a vague motion over his own face and watches Jeremy try to wipe away at a mess that doesn't exist as he strides over to him.
From this angle Jeremy is looking up at Mark with the sort of dopey smile on his face that makes that twinge in Mark's chest return. Instead of talking himself out of it, Mark quickly wets the pad of his own thumb with his mouth and rubs it over Jeremy's cheek. Jeremy looks into his eyes and at first it's confusion on his face but after a beat it's replaced with a questioning, almost conspiratorial smile.
"Thanks mum" that same cheeky expression still playing on his features.
"Oh god please don't, it was just, I didn't want to look at some gross bit of food on you for the rest of the night, you know." Mark grabs Jeremy's empty glass before retreating back to the kitchen for more wine but he can hear the smile in Jeremy's voice when he says,
"Oh I know Mark, by all means of course." They're both so good at this game, they've been playing it for the better part of the last decade.
"Do you want another glass?" Mark calls without glancing back, hoping Jeremy will assume the flush in his cheeks is just from the wine if it's still there by the time he's back in the living room.
Mark hears a vague sound of approval from Jez and pours both of them another glass. The rest of the evening will absolutely determine how big of a huge fucking mistake I've just made, no pressure.
Careful not to spill the wine in his buzzed state, Mark walks back to the living room and he's hit again with the reality that soon he'll be expected to move out and find a decent place with Sophie or move Jeremy out to God knows where in order to move Sophie into the flat.
For a moment he tries to imagine that it's Sophie he's drinking with, maybe the whole thing won't be so bad afterall. The alcohol will dull the ridiculous weight of the mortal toil and maybe sometimes she'll let him fuck her so long as he keeps his awful goatee and his clothes keep squeezing him into whatever shape will make her happy.
God what a life, father will be delighted
When he returns, Jeremy is lying on his side with one arm slung over the back of the sofa and the other resting overtop the slightest bit of exposed skin where the bottom of his shirt doesn't quite reach down to the top of his jeans. Mark has to make a conscious effort not to linger on that soft pale strip of skin.
Thankfully Jeremy rises back to an upright position when he sees Mark re-enter with the drinks and takes his muttering a "thanks mate" before tipping it back immediately.
Mark swivels his chair so he can face Jez as they let the history series play out on the telly.
"Should probably turn in soon, long day in the car tomorrow and then the parents weekend." Mark looks up with an expression he hopes conveys a resigned annoyance and not the true weight of his soul collapsing in on itself a thousand times over, folding and folding and folding until only a dark space remains.
"Are you still up for, you know, coming along?" He hates how obvious it is that he really wants the answer to be yes. Hates how he totes Jeremy along everywhere the way a child brings their favorite blanket on holidays away.
"What? Oh, right, yeah. Yeah I'll still come. Change of scenery could be nice." But his voice carries as much sorrow as Mark feels inside.
"Right, well thanks for that Jeremy. For not throwing me to the sharks on my own." This way maybe we can both be eaten
************
The drive is slow and mostly quiet. Mark criticizes Jeremy's driving to which Jeremy responds by taking his hands completely off the wheel and telling him, "if you don't like the way I'm driving then you can just bloody well do it yourself for Christ's sake!" to which Mark asks if he's finally lost his fucking mind.
Things feel tense and uncomfortable by the time they finally arrive at the address Sophie gave him last week. A nice enough farm house on a well maintained plot of land, almost exactly as Mark had envisioned it.
As everyone is making their awkward introductions Mark catches Jeremy staring daggers at him as he hugs Sophie's sweet faced mother. Mark does his best to push it out of his mind, genuinely grateful for Jeremy's presence in an otherwise unfamiliar environment.
Maybe he isn't the only one who needs someone around to support him, maybe I'd be just as lost and strung out as he is if I were alone
When he introduces Jeremy he doesn't know what to call him - his flatmate, his friend, his brother, his dependent. Well that's the most true isn't it. So he doesn't call him anything other than 'Jez' and suddenly he's being swept away in Sophie's mother's chatter and Jeremy is caught in the back of the group with Sophie's strange...cousin? brother? someone or other named Jamie who has clearly tried to imprint on Jeremy immediately.
Poor bastard
The day is filled with, well, mostly horrors beyond comprehension. A hunting incident that ended with Mark pulling the head clean off of a wounded bird, a horrible conversation about love with Sophie's father at the pub, finally admitting to himself that he should absolutely under no circumstances marry Sophie, and now he's just found out that Jeremy has almost definitely fucked Sophie's mother, how could it possibly get any worse?
This is a complete disaster, we never should have come here, we need to get out immediately.
Mark has always had an overactive fight or flight response and right now, looking at that disgusting smutty smile on Jeremy's face, he's never wanted to open the door and just walk and walk and keep walking until either his legs give out from exhaustion or he gets torn apart by the wolves more than he does in this moment.
Berating Jeremy with threats of chemical castration and insults about how stupid he looks when he smiles only help alleviate those feelings a little, everything else feels like it is closing in around him. And now he might as well be sleeping shoulder to shoulder with Jeremy in their little side by side twin beds.
And of course he's sleeping in basically nothing, doesn't even have the common decency to wear a proper set of pyjamas as a guest in someone else's home. That's him all over.
Mark lays down fully in his much too small bed. The sheets smell of mothballs and stale cleaner, they feel slightly crispy in a wholly unpleasant way, nothing like his sheets at home.
He's tired, the kind of tired he can feel down to his bones and through his extremities and down into the tips of his fingers. The lights are out and he can hear Jeremy breathing, soft and rhythmic next to him.
He's the one who's been driving, I'm sure that's enough to make someone tired. And he's had sex, disgusting, horrible, amoral sex with Sophie's mum, that'll probably do it.
He almost wishes he could have loads of meaningless awful sex the way Jeremy's always doing but he wouldn't feel like himself doing such a thing. No, I'm destined for a monogamous dead bedroom marriage imbued with hatred and resentment, just like my father. That's more my speed
He must drift off because the next time he opens his eyes it's clearly much later, the house is entirely silent and he's surrounded by a kind of inky blackness that could never even exist in a place like Croydon. Darkness that can only happen in an area like this, far out in the countryside.
As his eyes slowly adjust as he looks over to Jeremy's bed. He can hear it before he can see it, Jeremy's doing it again. Lips tightly latched around his thumb, rhythmically suckling. Mark lets a soft hiss escape from his lips, a small, pained sound.
He quickly turns over and shuts his eyes as tightly as he can, as if he can just will all of this away, as if he hasn't been thinking about this exact thing for weeks. But with the lack of background noise he can still hear all of it.
Should I...wake him? What can I even say, "hey mate I noticed you sucking your thumb in your sleep again, would you mind giving it a rest?" Might as well off myself
Mark hesitantly rolls back over and opens one eye to look at Jez. He looks so comfortable, more comfortable than Mark has ever been in his entire life. His chin is tucked under, angled slightly down toward his chest and Mark can just barely make out the shadow of his eyelashes fanning down across his cheeks. He looks so soft, like Mark could just reach over and bridge the gap between their bodies to ruffle his hair.
You're only thinking this way because you're emotionally malnourished and it's late, you've just been put through the marriage wringer and it's roughly 2 a.m. it could happen to anyone, really
Both of his eyes are on Jeremy now. God what's he so relaxed about? The end of everything could be hurtling toward him and he'd still just be there, sleeping like a....
He cuts himself off as Jeremy stirs a bit, mouth still firmly suctioned around his finger.
Now that he thinks about it though, Jeremy really has had every reason to be so carefree up until this point. Mark hardly ever bothers him overtly for a rent repayment anymore. Mark also fills out all the forms, pays the bills, does the joint shopping and even takes care of most of the washing up, all while Jeremy watches television, smokes drugs, and sleeps past noon. The absolute freeloader
But even with that thought, Mark does have to admit there are things about Jez that are not important, not special but...maybe not entirely unpleasant.
Images of Jeremy smiling at him over the coffee table in the flat come to mind. The way Mark can literally hear that same smile through the phone when Jeremy calls him at work to tell him whatever ridiculous thing just happened on his daytime telly lineup. Of Jeremy asking him if he wants to leave one of the rowdier parties they attended at Darty and walking home drunk with an arm slung over Mark's shoulder, heavy and warm. How that was the first time Mark ever let himself think of Jeremy, or anyone, a proper friend. If he let himself he might think that maybe taking care of Jeremy is worth it, that it makes him feel responsible and capable of providing for another person. How it makes him feel like a man when almost nothing else ever does.
But he doesn't, he's always incapable of looking directly at the sun so he looks at all the patches of light in his life and sees Jeremy in all of them. Happy and looked after in the illusion of safety Mark provides.
Of course I can provide for Sophie, I already do it for Jeremy.
Except when he thinks of his future with Sophie he sees a shadow of his father's life and he when thinks of staying in his flat the only thing he sees is Jez and that doesn't always sound so bad.
He looks at Jeremy again and feels so much fondness he almost wants to touch him. But I won't, I can't
But it doesn't mean he can't look. So here in the darkness of the countryside, surrounded by his impending doom, that's precisely what Mark does. Jeremy sucks and Mark watches the exact point where his lips meet the flesh, the almost hypnotic back and forth motion, the way his cheeks hollow in the most subtle way.
He feels the familiar stirring in his pyjama bottoms and genuinely feels sick. He's supposed to be here meeting his fiance's parents and yet the prospect of watching his flatmate suck his thumb in bed is infinitely more exciting than the thought of getting married to their daughter.
Don't even want to know what that says about me and I'll never have to find out because I won't tell anyone and I'll take it to my grave if I have to
Almost against his will Mark's hips grind forward into nothing and his fists clench, carefully trimmed nails digging little half moons into his palms. The bed softly creaks and Mark imagines almost against his will how it would feel if it were his finger in Jeremy's mouth. His soft, wet velveteen mouth latched around him, sucking so gently that it's almost maddening.
Mark flips over and turns his head to face Jeremy and puts his pillow down between his legs.
And if I don't acknowledge what I'm doing and I don't have to touch any of it myself, it can be as if it never happened
Quietly, almost imperceptibly, Mark ruts his hips down into the pillow and instantly feels his cheeks get hot, skin still sensitive from shaving off that horrible facial hair.
The soft sounds of Jeremy sucking are now overpowered by the steady pulse of the bed creaking as Mark tries to keep his breathing as slow and even as possible while thoughts that only have their place in the darkest, most insular hours fill Mark's head.
There's the sounds Jeremy makes when he's fucking one of his girls through the wall. The way he walks into the kitchen in the morning with an obvious tent in his robe like it's the most natural thing in the world. The way Jeremy always looks to him for approval before he talks or blinks or breathes. The way he relies on Mark for everything and has the audacity not to even be ashamed of it. The way they exchange Christmas gifts in bed. How stupid he looks when he's hopeful. How transparent he is when he wants Mark to be impressed. The way his eyes shine when he's self conscious. The way he chooses Mark every time even when he acts like he doesn't want to. The way he used to sleep on the floor of Mark's dorm curled up like a dog. How he can never quite say no. The softness of his body and the freckles on his shoulders.
Mark is so lost in his own head he doesn't even notice that Jeremy is now sitting up ever so slightly, propped on his elbow, thumb out of his mouth, staring.
Mark instantly goes completely still.
Don't move, don't fucking move. Is there any single solitary chance that I can say I was just...sleeping? That I sometimes do this in my sleep? That I had no idea what I was doing and that I am so sorry he had to see this? Fuck fuck fuck fuck
His thoughts are interrupted by Jeremy clearing his throat. Mark feels like his entire body is on fire.
"Mark" Jeremy's whispering, voice so low Mark can barely hear him. "It's... it's okay mate, it's okay."
Is he...soothing me?
"You don't have to stop, if you don't want to." Mark can literally hear the smile in Jeremy's voice and it makes his head spin. He doesn't know if he wants to pass out or vomit or run or some terrible combination of all three.
"I...I don't know what you're talking about Jez, I was just... sleeping and I suggest you do the same, it's late. Tomorrow's another long day." He channels the same voice he uses when he leads meetings at JLB and he hasn't looked Jeremy in the face.
Thank God for the lack of light source
Red face, sweaty palms, still hard with the pillow between his legs. But still the image of perfect normalcy so long no one can see anything.
When he finally looks up at Jez he's expecting to see some kind of disgust or hostility or malice or something other than the disarming little conspiratorial smile that he can just barely make out through the darkness playing on his lips. It isn't the look of someone who's just found out someone's embarrassing secret, no, it's the look of someone who is sharing the joy of said secret, as if it's something they're doing together instead of some terrible humiliating thing that Jeremy's been forced to witness.
"I can close my eyes, if that makes it easier" There's a warmth in Jeremy's voice that lights him up inside.
Am I really going to do this? Potentially humiliate myself in front of my best mate, betray everything I am just for an opportunity to bring myself off?
Unfortunately it has been quite a long time since Mark has taken care of himself and he's still feeling all of his uncomfortable affection for Jeremy thrumming just under the surface of his skin.
Mark steals one more glance over at Jeremy, his eyes have adjusted more now and he can see Jeremy facing him, an almost shy expression on his face.
"How about if I..." Jeremy's voice trails off as he opens his mouth and allows his thumb to breach the space between his lips.
Mark genuinely has to stifle the horrible, wanton noise that threatens to escape as he presses his hips back into the pillow underneath him.
He's openly looking at Jeremy now, who's making more of a show out of sucking his finger, swirling it around and pumping it in and out.
"No, not like that." His voice, tight and breathless in a way he's not sure he's ever heard from himself before. "More like...more like before."
Jeremy seems to understand, he softens his movements. Gently latching onto his finger as he looks into Mark's face. Vulnerable, almost innocent, just on the edge of sweet.
Mark bucks forward harder into the pillow causing the bed to creak under the weight of his hips, drowning out the sound of the choked moan deep in his throat.
It's Jeremy's whine that breaks the spell of his concentration. Mark feels like he can barely stand to look at him, his lips still sealed around his thumb, panting slightly through his nose, his hand clearly pumping up and down under the old floral duvet. He looks so loose and relaxed.
As if doing this with me is just another day, even though it's so wrong, it's pure depravity. If I had half a mind I would get up, sneak into Sophie's room and have robotic missionary for just long enough for it to count as a fair effort.
But he doesn't stop and, if he's being honest, feels increasingly like he would be unable to stop under almost any circumstances. The image of the entire world being consumed by darkness around them as he stares at Jeremy's face and grinds into his pillow until they're all sucked into oblivion flashes through his mind.
I wouldn't even mind, maybe it would be for the best
But it doesn't and the sounds of their breathing are audible over the occasional squeak of the mattress and he sees glimpses of Jeremy's tongue sliding around his spit slick thumb and he thinks perhaps it has already ended and they'll be able to stay here in suspended animation forever and ever.
He can see the solid outline of Jeremy arching his hips off the bed as he slows down and then speeds back up without taking his eyes off of Mark.
He looks so sensitive, so responsive, is this what it's always like for him?
Mark can feel himself getting close, his pants are already damp and the entire lower half of his body feels uncomfortably tight and hot. His movements are becoming less controlled, more erratic, edging on frantic. Neither of them able to completely stifle the sounds escaping them, Mark's low groans getting caught in his throat and Jeremy whining around his thumb, a soft little mewling sound.
And of course Jeremy whines, of course he's not a moaner, he's always been a whiner, just whines and whines and whines until someone takes care of him and of course it's always me, it's always going to be me, it has to be me
Once again Jeremy's voice pulls him from his interiority, "Can I, um, are you okay if I, I'm so close." Barely able to form coherent thoughts, Jeremy's voice sounds paper thin and vulnerable, Mark almost lets himself think about how good he sounds like this, moments away from completely coming undone, asking his permission.
"Yes, if you must." A ridiculous thing to say but this has gone completely off script, just the thought of Jeremy asking to have an orgasm in front of him is almost enough to make him finish on the spot.
Jeremy's thumb is back in his mouth as he watches Mark's hips grind into the pillow and Mark clenches his hands into fists tight enough to hurt.
At least one part of this can still be painful
As soon as he hears Jeremy moan out his name from around his thumb while he undoubtedly covers his entire bare stomach in cum, Mark feels his own release hit him.
His body almost convulses as he desperately ruts against the pillow, the way his name sounds on Jeremy's lips ringing in his ears. It almost feels endless. His heart hammers in his chest so hard he thinks it might completely explode as he feels himself soaking through the fabric of his pyjamas. Thick dark hair matted with sweat to his forehead, his brow furrowed with intensity and concentration, he feels like he's released more than he ever has in his entire life.
When the last twitches finally stop, he sheepishly looks over at Jeremy, who's watching him with rapt attention, desire written all over his stupid open face. It makes Mark feel angry and vaguely ill, what he really wants to say is "wipe that expression off and don't ever speak to me again" but instead he just turns over and faces the opposite direction. He feels like crying.
They sit in this moment of tension and silence for several beats and Jeremy must sense that something's wrong because his voice is tentative when he finally speaks.
"Well that was...I mean, wow." The barely disguised joy in his voice only makes Mark feel worse.
Mark doesn't know what to say so he just lets the comment hang in the air, unaddressed. Finally he starts to sit up, there's no way he'll be able to fall back asleep now, not in a puddle of his own filth.
And I don't ever have to speak to anyone again, I never have to think of any of this, and if I command Jeremy to leave it alone maybe for once he'll actually listen.
"I'm getting up to change my clothing. There's metal detecting with Ian in the morning, so you'll need to be up at a reasonable time." He doesn't even have to look at Jeremy to see the hurt on his face, he can feel it.
You'd think he'd be used to that by now.
Jeremy starts to make a noise, like he wants to speak, but Mark is already disappearing into the washroom before he can hear it.