Roger rolled over and looked at the clock, groggily coming to the realization that it was 6:30 PM. He was amazed that 5 and a half hours of sleep could feel so refreshing, but sleeping next to Mark, made any amount of rest worthwhile. Roger gently shook Mark and muttered "6:30 PM". Both made their way around the bedroom, Mark thinking about what to wear tonight. There was always something eccentric about his appearance and his actions whenever he was at the Life Café. His debut of dancing on tables had started it all, and no one was about to let him forget it. It had become almost a ritual, his dancing on tables, and his wild side was able to come through a bit, versus always appearing as the quiet Jewish boy everyone thought he was. Mark smirked as he thought of what outfit, or pants, more specifically, would bring him the most attention tonight. The only attention that mattered was Roger's. There could 50 people at the Life Café, and Mark's only concern was that Roger was there. Roger had become the only person to truly matter in Mark's life, as their relationship had progressed to roommates, and then lovers. A pair of red plaid pants stood out to him, maybe because it was the color and pattern of his boxers, and the pants might give Roger a hint of what was underneath, not to mention that these were Roger's pants he was eyeing. Who was he kidding, Mark thought to himself, laughing softly, Roger was always thinking of what was underneath and, would only be focusing on his pants tonight. Mark as a whole, meant the world to Roger, but when Mark was dancing, all that mattered were Mark's pants, and his ass in those pants. Mark grinned, and tugged on lightweight black sweater. He was always passionate about what he did, and things that he was passionate about, made him sweaty. Giggling like a little kid, it suddenly didn't matter how sweaty he got during his dancing tonight, he'd become more sweaty later, full well knowing that Roger wasn't going to let him get away scott-free from his dominating performance earlier. Roger turned towards Mark, now dressed in faded and ripped jeans, a black band t-shirt, and his leather jacket.

"….My pants!", Roger mused, grinning. "Your ass in my pants",

"Yep", Mark responded, heading towards the door of the loft, with Roger a few steps behind him.

Both men entered Maureen's performance space, holding hands as usual, hoping to disguise their tardiness. Quickly finding Collins and Angel, they were able to settle into the crowd and enjoy the show. Though Maureen's performances were always something to see, Roger had one everlasting question in the back of his mind that he'd yet to ask Mark, always fearing the question would come out differently as it had been intended. Roger chose a quick minute between songs to talk to Mark, he figured the quicker he asked the question, the less the reaction would sting if the question wasn't well received.

"Mark?", Roger asked, looking at Mark and turning to face him.

"Mmm?", Mark murmured, concentrating on Roger, having shifted his gaze away from Maureen's cow clad pants.

"I never got the guts to ask, but I was always curious. Why were you with Maureen?". Roger asked, gulping a bit.

"I'm not really sure", Mark said, squeezing Roger's hand, "Maybe it was her loud vivacious personality…or wardrobe…. but I'm much happier with you. You understand me, and you're loyal. With Maureen it was always a give and take guessing game".

Roger grinned and relaxed, squeezing Mark's hand in return, now even more confident with their relationship.

Once all were seated in the Life Café, and wine and beer had been brought to all that asked, Roger cleared his through and looked uneasily at Mark.

"I have something that's needed to be said for a while now", Roger spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. The group stared at him, concerned and confused. Roger was always confident in what he wanted to say, and his voice always was clear and audible.

"While I was away….during the overnight gig in New Jersey. I re-lapsed. I started using again.", Roger continued, his voice still no louder than a whisper. Maureen choked a bit on her beer, and stared at Roger open-mouthed, attempting to speak, but no words came out.

"I missed Mark so much, I couldn't help it. I remember how I was 3 months ago, and the pain I caused you all, especially Mark. The drug turned me into a different person, and it was a person that I couldn't control. I don't want to become that person again. Mark has become a stronger person for dealing with me through this, but I can't hurt him anymore. I can't hurt myself anymore, and I certainly can't hurt you guys' anymore.", Roger finished. The group's silence, with the exception of Maureen's open-mouthed obscure expression could be taken as understanding. No one dared to press the issue any further.

Collins cleared his throat and looked directly at Roger, who's face had returned to it's normal shade from the flushed tone it had taken on a few minutes prior, having been unsure of everyone's reaction. "I can make a call if you'd—".

"Thanks, that'd be great", Roger finished quickly, smiling slightly.

This time it was Mark who cleared his throat, and looked down at the group from his perch a top the tables pushed together. Roger hadn't even noticed Mark had moved, having been too concerned with the news he'd told. Mark struck the most adorable and obscure pose to the music being played and started to dance. Roger's smile broke into a grin, as he'd finally be getting to see Mark's ass in action, in his pants. Everyone clapped at Mark's artistic display, which had purposefully been staged right in front of Roger's seat. Pleased with his interpretive display, Mark jumped down from the table and planted a deep and feverous kiss on Roger's lips. The guitarist blushed, a bit surprised, but made no move to stop the arousing gesture.

Collins cleared his throat again, and tried not to focus on Mark and Roger's engrossment. "It's late, and we've all got stuff to do tomorrow".

Mark stopped this kiss, when he heard Collin's speak. "Is this because of….our display?", Mark asked, wearing a slight smirk.

"No.", Collin's finished hurriedly, winking at Mark.

Once they were inside the loft, Roger let his hand drop from around Mark's waist to cup his ass and give it a light squeeze.

"You look hot in those pants", he remarked, eyes gleaming.

Mark blushed. "Yeah…well…I figured it was ok if I….".

Roger laughed. "It's fine baby"

Mark smiled, and shook his ass right in front of Roger, scooting towards the bedroom, still doing the same movements. As soon as Mark was within a decent range of the bed, Roger scooped him up and tossed him onto the bed, flopping himself down onto the bed and pinning Mark down so he couldn't escape. The filmmaker grinned and restrained himself from taking the lead once again. Figuring that a small lead wouldn't hurt, Mark grabbed Roger's shirt collar, pulling the guitarist down on top of him. Full well knowing that Mark's dance at the Life Café began both their foreplay, Roger knew he didn't have far to go before Mark was putty in his hands. Engaging Mark in a hard deep kiss, Roger rocked up against him hard, grinning as he felt the filmmaker shudder beneath him. The filmmaker's pants were already tented by the first rocking movement of the guitarist, and Roger knew it wouldn't take much more to put Mark over the edge. Almost tearing off Mark's pants, Roger quickly placed himself between Mark's thighs, entering two fingers roughly. Mark, needing no time to adjust, bucked against Roger for more. Not needing to be told twice, Roger entered a third and began scissoring the filmmaker out. There was a difference between forced sex and roughed sex. Roger would never consider crossing the line of the two, again, since he saw what instances of his heroin use did to their trust combined with their moments of intimacy. He never wanted to cause Mark the physical and emotional pain that he had, when he wasn't himself, having been taken over by the drug. During those moments, Roger wanted more of anything, and he wanted it right then and there. It didn't matter if it was heroin, or Mark's ass, and Roger hadn't cared who he'd hurt – but then again, it wasn't really Roger. Mark moaned in response to Roger's skilled fingers.

"Rog, fuck me!", Mark moaned weakly, overcome by the sensations Roger was creating.

Roger didn't need any other signs, he slipped on a condom, and looked at Mark, who had already assumed the position of all fours. Roger pressed the head of his penis to Mark's anus, and pushed in slowly. Mark instinctively bucked against Roger, which lead to Roger picking up speed with every thrust. There are often words or phrases only uttered in the throes of passion, which both Roger and Mark utilized quite skillfully. Mark became Roger's bitch, but the filmmaker honestly wouldn't have it any other way. Roger was skilled in many things, including his talents in bed. It was often assumed by a passerby that Mark was "whipped", because he was so devoted to Roger, and Mark wouldn't let that title be passed up in bed either. It took all the self-control the guitarist had not to send the filmmaker over the edge in a few short thrusts; instead, the process became almost agonizing due to how good it felt. Mark's back became home to scratch and bite Mark's and his brain became home to comments often including "bitch", with a string of expletives tacked on. When the pleasure became too much to bear, Roger's thrusting became faster and deeper, signaling his need for release. With one final thrust, they both finished at the same time, fighting the urge to collapse to the bed from how good it was. Finding renewed strength; they both got cleaned up and sat on the bed.

"Wow….", Mark grinned, still panting a bit. Roger couldn't help but grin himself; since pleasing Mark was one of the things he loved most. Roger leaned over to hug Mark in a full embrace. Mark rested his head on Roger's shoulder and took in the scent of his sweat, and then opened his eyes to take in the sight of his lover. Mark never thought he'd end up with someone as gorgeous and devoted as Roger, someone who truly cared for him. Roger smiled, as he saw Mark's crimson flushed skin, and weak smile. Roger was also in awe, proud to have Mark as his own.

Both were jolted out of their reverie by the ringing of the telephone. Roger picked up the phone and found a very eager Collins on the other end of the line.

"I found you a support group for recovering drug addicts that's held in the 3 story brick building off of Avenue B – it'll be good for you to talk and get things out. It's at 11 AM tomorrow morning", Collins said proudly.

"Ok…I'll be there …but I'm bringing Mark", Roger replied.

"That's fine man, but you need to kick this habit once and for all!", Collin's sighed.

"I know…and thanks", Roger answered, his voice, once again barely above a whisper.