Disclaimer: Rent is Jonathan Larson's.
"This is absurd."
"You always say that." Benny slid off the condom and balled it up in a tissue. He tossed it into the rubbish bin.
Mark tossed him a towel. "Hey," he said. He picked through the clothes piled on the floor and slipped on his tightie-whities. "Stay on that until you're finished with post-coital drip."
Benny laughed. He sat down on the towel. "You make me feel like a pedophile with this," he said, nodding towards Mark's underwear.
With a scoff, Mark threw Benny a pair of black silk boxers with Daffy Duck patterned across them. "As opposed to yours?" he asked. "These make you look like a pedophile."
"If I put these on, do I still have to sit on the towel?" Benny asked, plucking the boxers off his face.
"Yes, and you still have to take the towel." Mark didn't care how much money Benny had, just that it was enough to rent a hotel room and pay for one… all right, four stolen towels. Benny was a calculating man who would have sued God for 51, just to have more money. "Think about who stays here next," he reasoned. "I mean, this is a nice place…"
Benny slipped on his boxers and went to the minibar. He chugged the bourbon. "Yeah," he agreed. He screwed on the bottle cap.
"A family," Mark supplied. He was still sitting on the edge of the bed, watching Benny, and Mark could not deny that Benny looked good naked. He worked out, apparently thoroughly, and was still damp from the workout he'd had with Mark a few minutes previous. All of this was making argument the last thing on Mark's mind.
Benny eyed Mark's crotch. Somehow it felt like counter-argument. Mark pulled a pillow over his lap and fiddled with his glasses. "Benny, can you imagine a six-year-old using one of these towels and then…? Or a couple on their honeymoon? Their lives would be ruined."
Benny laughed and tossed the bottle into the bin with the used condom. "Did you at least enjoy it?" he asked. He stroked Mark's cheek, turning his face upward to kiss him. "Or did you spend the whole time worrying about gonorrhea?"
Mark sighed. These were the moments that ruined the relationship for him. The sex was amazing. They had the same taste in books. They both liked documentaries and Twilight Zone reruns. But they just couldn't be together, because Benny was a shit.
"I should get back to Roger," Mark murmured. Roger would be upset to say the least. Mark wasn't exactly thrilled about the situation himself, but Mark wasn't volatile, and he didn't mind at least feeling good once in a while.
Mark pulled on his grey corduroys. They had been navy when he bought them three years ago. He thought about asking Benny for a loan or, better, a gift, but he couldn't. Benny would agree. Knowing made it impossible to ask.
Benny sighed. He went into the bathroom and ran the tap, holding his wrist under to feel the temperature rise. "You make me feel like I'm enabling an affair," he complained. Mark glanced at the leather wallet on the nightstand. He could… "I'm not," Benny added loudly.
Mark grabbed his shirt. He looked at Benny's back. "Do you… shave your thighs?" he asked.
"I shave everything," Benny replied, scraping the razor along his chin, "why?"
"Not everything," Mark mumbled. He blushed, then finished buttoning his shirt, stood up and grabbed the M&Ms from the minibar. "And you are enabling an affair," he added softly.
"Hey." Benny leaned back to meet Mark's eyes. "I didn't force you to come today. And it's not like Maureen hasn't done the same to you."
Mark sighed. He couldn't deny that much, but he didn't need it shoved in his face, especially not by Benny. "What about Alison?" he asked. "At least Maureen won't be hurt." He pulled on his bright red Christmas sweater. It made him look pale and about ten years old. "I'm going. Roger needs me. Don't forget to—"
"Take the towels," Benny interrupted. "Yeah, I know." He listened for the squeak of the doorknob, then called, "See you next month."
Once more, Mark sighed. "Yeah," he murmured. "Next month."
the end
Reviews would be very much appreciated.