Two Showers and A Smiley Face
As always, click here for Master List of Fics.Title: Two Showers and A Smiley Face
Characters: Mitch Evans, Mark Webber
Rating: Black Flag
Summary: Mark's mind is in the gutter. Mitch knows and takes advantage of it.
Warning: barely legal sex
Disclaimer: All in my head.
A/N: Written for Understeers Round02. Thanks to J for the beta-ing!
He's been around long enough to see the signs: the smiles that are meant just for him, the laughs at jokes that really aren't that funny, the touches that linger for just a few seconds too many. He could have stopped it then, when it first started, told him it wasn't right. But wasn't right for whom? For Mitch? Clearly Mitch thought otherwise. For himself? His cock sure thought differently too, and his brain, well he's not sure whether he still has one when it comes to Mitch, especially not when they're home alone after a long bike ride and Mitch is pulling his shirt over his head, exposing that perfect torso of his.
"I'm gonna go clean up," Mitch says, tossing the sweat soaked t-shirt over his sculpted shoulder, not waiting for an answer from Mark. Mark is always telling him to make himself at home, so he shouldn't be surprised when that's exactly what Mitch does. He follows, climbing the stairs up to the second floor, past the bathroom where Mitch enters, not bothering to close the door behind him, and to his room.
The sound of the water falling in the shower reaches the bedroom when Mark sits down on the edge of the bed and he removes his t-shirt before letting himself fall back, drained from the workout. He wishes he still had as much dedication as Mitch does. Mitch, who is currently naked in his shower, just down the hall probably washing, touching, every part of his body.
He clenches his eyes tight against the images. It shouldn't be like this, but Mitch has matured so much these past months, mentally and physically, and Mark is finding it hard to keep his mind out of the gutter, especially when Mitch looks at him with those damn bedroom eyes. He looks at a picture of Ann on the wall, and he can imagine her giving him one of her disapproving looks. Not that Ann minds when he sees men, but Mitch is barely more man than boy, a boy that Ann treats like she's his mother, and fuck, what does that make him then?
"Mark," Mitch calls from the bathroom.
"Yeah?"
"I forgot a towel, bring me one will you?"
Mark peels himself off the bed and grabs a fresh towel from the linen closet in the hallway then walks into the open bathroom, his eyes cast to the floor and his arm extended forward, holding the towel out for Mitch.
"I can't reach that," Mitch says, sticking his head out of the open shower door.
With anyone else, like Jenson, Mark wouldn't hesitate to just look at them straight on and simply toss the towel their way, no fuss no big deal. But right now, with Mitch, he knows his expression will betray him, allowing Mitch a perfect view into his thoughts, and that's not something he's keen on. Mark licks his bottom lip and exhales, mouth tense as he tries to navigate over to Mitch without looking up, without looking at what he can only imagine is the handsome sight of water dripping from Mitch's hair, droplets falling over his face, clinging to his long lashes, streaming down his toned naked body.
"What the -" Mark exclaims as a hand encircles his wrist and he is pulled and stumbles into the shower. The hot water drenches him almost immediately, and he's still trying to regain his balance when he realises the only reason he's still standing is because he's got both hands on Mitch's shoulders and Mitch has both hands around his waist. Oh Fuck.
Mark blinks through the water, trying to step backwards, needing to put as much space between himself and Mitch, but there's soap on the floor and he slips, nearly falling over were it not for Mitch's strong hands steadying him.
"Careful old man," Mitch chuckles, his brown eyes mischievous. Mark groans and frowns as he stares at the ceiling shower, refusing to meet Mitch's eyes any longer than he has to, trying to ignore the feeling of Mitch's body flush against his.
"Are you going to let me leave now you've had your fun?" His voice is harsher than he means it to be because that's all this is, isn't it? Mitch having a good laugh at his expense?
Mitch pulls his hands away sharply and when Mark peeks down, he sees Mitch with his head bowed, looking at him through lowered lashes, hurt. Mark feels a piece of his soul get ripped apart, because the last thing he wants to do is hurt Mitch. His whole focus has been to protect Mitch, to care for him, support him, lov-.
Shit.
He pulls Mitch to him, hugging him tightly as he kisses his wet, freshly shampooed, hair. There's no turning back now, no denying how he feels, and he wishes it was nothing more than fatherly affection, but there's nothing parental about the way his body is responding to Mitch.
"Mark," Mitch says softly, barely audible above the sound of the water, but it's loud enough for Mark to hear the flood of want and need in that one simple syllable. There's a lump in Mark's throat and he has no words for this, or none he's willing to speak, so he curls his fingers in the hair at the back of Mitch's head, pulling him even closer, pressing a hard kiss on his forehead before he lets their foreheads touch, drowning in the inevitability of it all.
It feels like minutes until Mitch moves, his slick lips kissing the stubble on his jaw, which Mark clenches as he feels a shiver pass through him. He braces himself against the shower walls, freeing Mitch who moves down until he's kneeling, his tongue tracing the streams of water that swirl over his abs, stopping at the waistband of the drenched shorts that cling to him like a second skin.
Mark shakes his head and allows himself a small laugh as he admires Mitch, on his knees, looking up at him expectantly and with a renewed glimmer in his eyes. Mitch pulls down Mark's shorts, a pleased look on his face, and he doesn't linger, his hand quickly wrapping around Mark's cock to guide it fully in his mouth. Mark was wrong to think the shower couldn't get any warmer. His hand squeaks against the steamy glass as he shifts on his feet, his brain fogging up like the air he's inhaling sharply. Mitch's lips are tight around him, sliding easily the length of his shaft, and his tongue swirls expertly, enhancing the suction on the sensitive head of Mark's cock. Mark cradles Mitch's head with his free hand, partly to guide him and partly to convince himself that this is real, and Mitch looks up at him, eager and willing, and for a second he considers turning off the hot water, but turns it off completely instead, not quite ready to cool down or be done yet.
"Get up," Mark says, voice hoarse and shaky. "Get up now," he repeats before he can change his mind and simply stay here and take what Mitch is giving him.
When Mitch obliges, standing before him with a mildly confused look on his face, Mark throws him over his shoulder, making him giggle. Mark doesn't bother drying off, leaving a trail of puddles on the floor all the way to the bedroom where he dumps Mitch on the bed, pulling him by the thighs just under his knees until he's right at the edge of the bed, legs dangling down.
Mitch props himself up on his elbows while Mark grabs a bottle of lube and a condom from the night table, tossing the lube to Mitch who catches it with a grin. Mark watches as Mitch pours the gel over a couple of fingers, warming it up briefly with his breath before he pushes a finger in, his eyes never leaving Mark's, daring him to be the first to break, to look away and at the show he's putting on, fingering himself, rocking his hips in rhythm with his fingers, freely allowing moans to fill the room. But Mark just keeps looking straight in his eyes, chin raised up in defiance, trying to maintain some semblance of control over a situation so clearly controlled by Mitch from the very beginning.
He's sure Mitch could get himself off right now, what with the way he's arching his back and curling his toes, struggling to keep his eyes open. It drives him wild with urgency. He wants to fuck Mitch so bad, wants to fuck him hard and fast, wants to fuck him until his face is twisted from pleasure and all he sees are stars.
He's the first to break of course. The little prick knows exactly how to turn him on; every touch, every look, every noise is planned, deliberate. Mitch has been reeling him in for weeks, months maybe, and Mark never had a chance. His brain can't process thoughts more than two words long. Fuck him. Fuck Mitch. Do it. So he does. He hurriedly puts the condom on, struggling because he's already so hard and swollen, and shoves Mitch's hand out of the way before he enters him in one thrust, going as deep as he can. His whole body comes alive, the fiery tingles spreading from his groin to the rest of his body, and he digs his fingers in the skin of Mitch's bent knees, letting a jolt of pleasure pass through him. So good. Fucking hell.
His focus comes back when he feels Mitch slowly rock his hips against him, desperate for movement, but that's not enough, that's nowhere near enough. Need more. He spreads his feet a bit wider apart, adjusting his angle before he thrusts deep and hard into Mitch, each stroke cutting both of their breaths and making Mitch squirm, his hands clamped hard at the edge of the bed to prevent him from being pushed away from Mark.
"Stop. Let me ride you," Mitch says between gasps. "I want to ride you."
Mark doesn't need to be told again, he's more than happy to let Mitch do the hard work, so he scoops him up in his arms and switches their positions so he's comfortably lying on his back, Mitch straddling him. It's the most beautiful view, Mitch in full display in front of him, and the most amazing sensation, the way Mitch rides his cock, teasing him, toying with the head of his dick before taking him deep again, and it's driving Mark nuts because he wants to stay buried deep into Mitch, into the tight warmth. His mind descends into one-word thoughts. More. Deeper. Faster. Mitch. Coming. He feels his orgasm build, so he roughly grabs Mitch by the hips and thrusts fast and hard into him and he thinks it can't get any better than this, but Mitch reaches a hand behind him, cupping Mark's balls, dipping a finger to the sensitive patch of skin underneath, and the overwhelming sensation is too much for Mark, more than he could ever want, better than he had imagined. His whole body shakes with ecstasy, every muscle twitching, every nerve on fire, and he's the one seeing stars.
He's not sure how long it takes, but when he blinks out of his daze, Mitch is still sitting on him, but his cock has softened, his come painting Mark's abs. With a final groan from both of them, Mitch and Mark separate. Mark could fall asleep right now, drained and sated, but Mitch, being his chirpy self, wants none of it.
"So what now?" Mitch asks, drawing a smiley face in the white mess on Mark's stomach. And Mark knows he means what's next for them, for this, but he's in no state of mind to give him an answer, so he settles for a literal answer.
"Shower," he grunts. Shower and on my way to hell, he thinks, wondering how in the world he's going to explain that one to Ann.
.