A friend wrote this for me and i thought i was too go not to post so they said i could. It is VERY R so DO NOT READ if you do not like that. it is far ffrom fluff...Ohh and we do not own Mark Roger or Maureen. Jon Larson does pouts
Mark woke up groggily, shivering in the unheated loft. He shifted his weight wiggling closer to the warm body of his girlfriend. Something wasn't quite right though, and the familiar pain in his side from the broken spring in the mattress was missing. Brushing off the problem as early morning delirium he hugged Maureen's sleeping form closer. Instead of feeling her soft curving chest his arm met hard flat muscle.
Quickly snapping to his senses, Mark's eyes popped wide open before squinting in pain at the unexpected sunlight. Looking franticly around he saw that he was indeed still in the drab loft over 14th street but the surroundings were different than his cramped bedroom. This wasn't his room, this wasn't his bed, and that person certainly wasn't his girlfriend.
Roger could feel Mark moving around behind him trying to get more comfortable in the small lumpy bedding. He felt great, Hell who wouldn't after a night like that? Slowly opening his eyes Roger could see that the morning was well under way, the busy noise of the city crashing down on his ears high above the street. Sighing he fell back into Mark's supporting chest just as it tensed. If he wasn't awake before, the resulting scream would insure that he wouldn't have been sleeping for much longer.
"ROGER! What the Hell am I doing in your bed!" Mark yelled shoving hard into the strong back leaning against his chest, knocking the unsuspecting bedmate flat onto the floor. Leaving no time for Roger to recompose after being unceremoniously dumped, Mark scrambled to the edge of the bed grabbing Roger's shoulders. "What the fuck happened last night?" Mark practically yelled into Roger's face, shaking his body to emphasize each word.
Damn Roger thought to himself I knew that was too much alcohol for him. His elbow was sore from striking the ground with such a strong force. Despite his scrawny appearance, Mark had a little strength to him. He was barely able to regain his senses before the small hands closed like a vice around his shoulders and shook violently. "What the fuck happened last night?" the concerned yell reverberated inside his ear.
"Marky, don't you remember?" Roger questioned carefully, trying to distract his crazed room mate. Seeing Mark shake his head a definite no, Roger continued, "We went out last night, down to that little club on Avenue B, the Cat Scratch. Do you remember that much at least?"
"Yeah I remember, there was some hot chick dancing, she looked familiar. We were supposed to be meeting Maureen and some lawyer that she knew Jane, Jonnie, Joanne that's it," Mark squeaked letting go of Roger and sitting back. Good, at least he remembers something Roger's inner monologue commented. He climbed back onto the bed leaning against the wall.
"Well we definitely met them there…" his voice tailed off, "They must have thought that we were coming later, because they were, well they were rather engaged at the corner table."
How could he forget? That was the last straw; she had pushed him too far. As if watching them make out on that cheap table while Roger just looked around aimlessly wasn't enough; Mark definitely saw the two sliding up thighs and under skirts. As a matter of fact he probably would have still been standing there in shock had it not been for Roger. Mark knew he owed Roger everything, taking him home, letting him get drunk when he needed it most. Even the events that conspired afterward.
"I remember everything now," Mark's shaky voice warbled. He was just staring at Roger's soft lips, afraid to meet his seductive eyes. "T-t-thank you f-f-for everything," he said through a quivering lip. "C-c-are to reproduce last night, y-you know, so I can remember everything?"
Instead of a response Roger swooped in to kiss his new lover softly. "Are you sure you want this?"
"Please, like I've never wanted anything before," Mark pleads, his hands suddenly feeling very empty and very restless. Staring Roger dead in the eyes, those seductive eyes, he slowly trailed his hands up the musician's thighs. A small smile forming as those perfect eyes bulged at the firm grip Mark had over his growing erection.
The same carnal passion that had been in the bed last night reappeared suddenly with the lust filled gaze shared between the two friends. Time itself seemed to stop as that look portrayed everything they felt; the love that was always there, the physical attraction that they only reflected on in fantasy or when drunk and alone, and the desperate need for release.
Without warning Roger had already pressed Mark down to meet his strategically placed hand. A brief and intense wrestling match followed, with boxers falling away and erections spring forth. A loud moan escaped from Roger's mouth as Mark licked the underside of his penis from the base to the tip, sucking gently on the tip.
"Oh, more Marky," Roger managed through gasping breaths as his hips began to thrust, forcing more into hollowed cheeks of the film maker. The sucking increased . With the first taste of pre-cum Mark's sucking reached a feverish pace with the desire to feel the hot cum inside of his mouth. As he licked back up the shaft and started to suck on the tip a powerful hand gripped his shoulder pulling him back. A familiar confused look crossed Mark's face as Roger lifted him up; the look vanished as he saw the hunger in those perfect eyes. A harsh kiss left them both breathless as hands roamed unbounded across the two naked bodies. The hard squeeze to his ass caused Mark to flop to his stomach before Roger.
"Oh please Roger, take me hard," Mark pleaded in his usual non-aggressive position. Needing no second urging Roger quickly lay down on top of Mark, rubbing against the opening. At the sound of the soft whimpering escaping muffled from the pillows Roger plunged into the awaiting man. Mark screamed as the lightly lubed cock penetrated his rear.
Fearing Mark would want to stop if given the chance, Roger continued to pound , slowly working deeper up to his balls into Mark's rectum. Reaching around the front Roger stroked Mark's throbbing penis, tracing a finger around the small opening. As the stroking increased in pressure Roger began to ride hard, bouncing in and out. The moans were becoming too loud for the pillows to muffle and Mark's mixed with Roger's into a euphoric sound of sexual satisfaction.
The beads of sweat started to form on both men's backs as Roger bucked faster and Mark uncontrollably clenching his muscles pulling Roger in as deep as possible. Raising his left hand high and thrusting deep, hard, and fast, Roger brought it down hard. The sound of the slap skin and screams echoed in the nearly empty loft, Roger pumped harder with his hand causing Mark to explode on the bed resulting in an inadvertent tightening of his ass drawing the thick hot sperm out of Roger deep into Mark. Roger collapsed onto the bed as Mark flipped onto his side kissing him deeply.
Mark lay back resting from the early morning recreation. The phone rings breaking the comfortable silence, and he could feel Roger tense again. "Speak!" the two voices cry out simultaneously.
"Mark, pookie," Maureen's unique voice rings, "it's over. Call me though!" Mark gazed up at Roger's smiling face and they both laughed, and Mark couldn't have cared less.