Fic: Scene Points (1/?)
Title: Scene Points (1/?)
Author:
boho_junkie
Feedback: Is almost as good as Christ Checks.
Pairing(s): Mark/Roger/OFC
Word Count: 875. Kind of sad, but they’ll get longer.
Rating: R for drug use. Will definitely be NC17 starting next chapter.
Genre: Romance
Summary: Heroin, cocaine, sex-it’s all about the scene points.
Notes: Very preRENT. Like…before April preRENT. Although she is mentioned. If you catch her.
Special Thanks: Me. For being a genius. Heh. Jonathan Larson for being more of a genius.
Warnings/Kinks: Drugs. Somewhat Pitiful!Mark, although he’s not really supposed to be that way. Uh…you’re not gonna get to know Mac very well because she’s meant not to get known but to be known, if that makes sense.
Disclaimer: Renting.
It’s so hot that Mark’s brain is sweating. Roger’s off somewhere, dancing with someone, doing some sort of drug and Mark really could care less right now. His mind is focused on what’s going on right in front of him. Mac grinds against him, hands over her head as her body sways with the music.
She’s beautiful, in that could-pass-off-as-a-boy sort of way. Graced with stick straight, ink black hair that she chopped to her chin, Mac has a scrawny form that’s quite similar to Mark’s, besides the fact that he doesn’t have breasts. Nevertheless, she’s a sight.
Roger walks up to him, rubbing against his back. “I just got the call. It’s time.”
The filmmaker nods and turns to tell Mac, but she already knows. Mac knows everything. She licks his ear seductively when she whispers, “Ready?”
He nods and allows himself to be led off by the two drug addicts because, hey…it’s better that way.
-----------------
First, they have to make a stop. It’s so cold that Mark’s fingernails want to put on toboggans. Roger chats it up with the Man, kissing the drug dealer hard before taking the stash and shoving it in his pocket. For Mac, they have to walk all the way to Central fucking Park.
With a kiss and a rub against the front of his jeans, she promises it’s worth it.
Mac’s dealer is a chick. A chick with flaming red hair and an annoying eyebrow ring that Mark can tell is fake. She stands really close to the dealer when she’s getting her drug of choice, which happens to be much different from Roger’s. Mac flicks her tongue out, tongue stud shining in the moonlight as she gently nips the girl’s lip and turns. The red headed heathen grabs her ass, pulling her around to kiss her.
Mark would be lying if he said it wasn’t very, very hot to see two women make out, nipples touching through their shirts and hands over each other’s asses.
Mac gently pushes the other girl away, shrugging, “Not tonight.” With that, she walks back to Mark and Roger, who are both eyeing her and each other a little more hungrily than they were before. Dangling the bag in Mark’s face, she whispers, “Thank God for the snow.”
------------
The candles flicker and the tapping of syringes sound like atomic bombs going off. Mark can’t help but gulp.
He sounds a little pathetic, but he asks anyway, “Why do I have to go first?”
Roger and Mac both laugh gently, filling their needles only about 10 miligrams each. He could handle that. He hoped.
“Because,” Roger strokes Mark’s face and kisses his forearm, “We don’t want to be high when we do yours and fuck up and kill you.” He lets out a laugh.
Mark is scared as shit.
“We won’t do it all at once,” Roger adds quickly, rubbing Mark’s skin and letting out yet another laugh, “That’d be enough to kill you right there.”
“Besides,” Mac lets out a breathy sigh and sits next to Mark, throwing one leg over his waist and allowing the other one to settle behind his back, her crotch pushed right against his side. He can feel the heat radiate on his arm, dampness caused by the very same thing that has caused his hardness: the feeling of bad.
Knowing that what they’re doing is bad and drugs are bad and no sex before marriage and all those nice little Jewish laws his mom taught him.
Those nice little Jewish customs that Roger and Mac taught him felt so good to break.
“Besides,” She repeats, “You’ve been tested since the last couple of times you’ve fucked someone,” Like a cat, she reaches out to run a finger under Roger’s chin, and he licks the tip of her finger when it reaches his lips. Then with a sexy, seductive grin, she adds, “Roger and I haven’t.”
That makes Mark feel a little bit better. Sure, what they were doing may be wrong and against all those customs, but these people did care about him.
And these weren’t open promises to try and get him to fuck them; high or not, horny or depressed, Monday or Friday, Mac and Roger were his friends. Always had been. Always would be.
Someone taps his arm, but Mark forgot who because he shut his eyes and blocked out the image of the two people next to him. He guesses a vein shows up pretty fast, and he hisses as the first needle enters. He’s not sure whether it’s the smack or the snow, but he doesn’t care. His head lulls back and he allows the drug to take its course. When his other arm is tapped and entered, he doesn’t say a word.
When he opens his eyes, Roger and Mac have left him to go refill the syringes. Roger cups her ass as she shoots him up, and he immediately returns the favor. Mark whimpers. He doesn’t get touched when they shoot him up.
Roger turns and flashes a grin, “Don’t worry, baby; we’re coming.”
“Well,” Mac turns toward him as well, shooting herself up in her other arm, “We’re not coming. Not yet.”
The three share a laugh and everything actually feels fan-fucking-tastic.
Author:
boho_junkie
Feedback: Is almost as good as Christ Checks.
Pairing(s): Mark/Roger/OFC
Word Count: 875. Kind of sad, but they’ll get longer.
Rating: R for drug use. Will definitely be NC17 starting next chapter.
Genre: Romance
Summary: Heroin, cocaine, sex-it’s all about the scene points.
Notes: Very preRENT. Like…before April preRENT. Although she is mentioned. If you catch her.
Special Thanks: Me. For being a genius. Heh. Jonathan Larson for being more of a genius.
Warnings/Kinks: Drugs. Somewhat Pitiful!Mark, although he’s not really supposed to be that way. Uh…you’re not gonna get to know Mac very well because she’s meant not to get known but to be known, if that makes sense.
Disclaimer: Renting.
It’s so hot that Mark’s brain is sweating. Roger’s off somewhere, dancing with someone, doing some sort of drug and Mark really could care less right now. His mind is focused on what’s going on right in front of him. Mac grinds against him, hands over her head as her body sways with the music.
She’s beautiful, in that could-pass-off-as-a-boy sort of way. Graced with stick straight, ink black hair that she chopped to her chin, Mac has a scrawny form that’s quite similar to Mark’s, besides the fact that he doesn’t have breasts. Nevertheless, she’s a sight.
Roger walks up to him, rubbing against his back. “I just got the call. It’s time.”
The filmmaker nods and turns to tell Mac, but she already knows. Mac knows everything. She licks his ear seductively when she whispers, “Ready?”
He nods and allows himself to be led off by the two drug addicts because, hey…it’s better that way.
-----------------
First, they have to make a stop. It’s so cold that Mark’s fingernails want to put on toboggans. Roger chats it up with the Man, kissing the drug dealer hard before taking the stash and shoving it in his pocket. For Mac, they have to walk all the way to Central fucking Park.
With a kiss and a rub against the front of his jeans, she promises it’s worth it.
Mac’s dealer is a chick. A chick with flaming red hair and an annoying eyebrow ring that Mark can tell is fake. She stands really close to the dealer when she’s getting her drug of choice, which happens to be much different from Roger’s. Mac flicks her tongue out, tongue stud shining in the moonlight as she gently nips the girl’s lip and turns. The red headed heathen grabs her ass, pulling her around to kiss her.
Mark would be lying if he said it wasn’t very, very hot to see two women make out, nipples touching through their shirts and hands over each other’s asses.
Mac gently pushes the other girl away, shrugging, “Not tonight.” With that, she walks back to Mark and Roger, who are both eyeing her and each other a little more hungrily than they were before. Dangling the bag in Mark’s face, she whispers, “Thank God for the snow.”
------------
The candles flicker and the tapping of syringes sound like atomic bombs going off. Mark can’t help but gulp.
He sounds a little pathetic, but he asks anyway, “Why do I have to go first?”
Roger and Mac both laugh gently, filling their needles only about 10 miligrams each. He could handle that. He hoped.
“Because,” Roger strokes Mark’s face and kisses his forearm, “We don’t want to be high when we do yours and fuck up and kill you.” He lets out a laugh.
Mark is scared as shit.
“We won’t do it all at once,” Roger adds quickly, rubbing Mark’s skin and letting out yet another laugh, “That’d be enough to kill you right there.”
“Besides,” Mac lets out a breathy sigh and sits next to Mark, throwing one leg over his waist and allowing the other one to settle behind his back, her crotch pushed right against his side. He can feel the heat radiate on his arm, dampness caused by the very same thing that has caused his hardness: the feeling of bad.
Knowing that what they’re doing is bad and drugs are bad and no sex before marriage and all those nice little Jewish laws his mom taught him.
Those nice little Jewish customs that Roger and Mac taught him felt so good to break.
“Besides,” She repeats, “You’ve been tested since the last couple of times you’ve fucked someone,” Like a cat, she reaches out to run a finger under Roger’s chin, and he licks the tip of her finger when it reaches his lips. Then with a sexy, seductive grin, she adds, “Roger and I haven’t.”
That makes Mark feel a little bit better. Sure, what they were doing may be wrong and against all those customs, but these people did care about him.
And these weren’t open promises to try and get him to fuck them; high or not, horny or depressed, Monday or Friday, Mac and Roger were his friends. Always had been. Always would be.
Someone taps his arm, but Mark forgot who because he shut his eyes and blocked out the image of the two people next to him. He guesses a vein shows up pretty fast, and he hisses as the first needle enters. He’s not sure whether it’s the smack or the snow, but he doesn’t care. His head lulls back and he allows the drug to take its course. When his other arm is tapped and entered, he doesn’t say a word.
When he opens his eyes, Roger and Mac have left him to go refill the syringes. Roger cups her ass as she shoots him up, and he immediately returns the favor. Mark whimpers. He doesn’t get touched when they shoot him up.
Roger turns and flashes a grin, “Don’t worry, baby; we’re coming.”
“Well,” Mac turns toward him as well, shooting herself up in her other arm, “We’re not coming. Not yet.”
The three share a laugh and everything actually feels fan-fucking-tastic.