He gets closer as he imagines teasing her, sliding his cock up underneath those pretty pussy lips, dragging it up the wet slit and over her clit until her back arches and she's moaning for him to just do it. And then. Then the scene shifts. He's still got his cock up between smooth thighs, still teasing open that pucker with his thumb, but the back is more angles than curves. The hair still blond but shorter, and rubbing along the top of his cock is another one, rigid and hot, and the base of his cock presses up against a full, heavy, fuzzy pair of balls.
"Fuckin' do it," Esca says in that thick accent, and Marcus imagines flipping him to his back, bending him in half and squeezing the head of his cock inside that tight, tight ring of muscle, watching as Esca throws his head back, offering up that long, gorgeous arc of neck. Marcus leans down and drags his teeth along it, sucking hard at the the spot where neck meet shoulder, thrusting in, in, then those last few inches till he's buried balls deep and Esca is rutting and writhing against him, begging incoherently for more, deeper. But Marcus just holds him there, pinned, feeling him struggle not to get free, but to get closer. "Come in me," Esca begs, and it slams into him like linebacker, knocking the breath from his lungs as he shoots and shoots and shoots in his fist.
Well fuck, he thinks as he flings the mess to the tub then rinses off his hand. Not the best idea, but not exactly a surprise either. He rolls his head, cracking his neck, and stays under the water for a few minutes longer, enjoying the post orgasm buzz and the looseness of his muscles. It's not the first time Esca's invaded his jack off sessions, and it probably won't be the last. This thing will pass, like they all do, and he'll find himself a girlfriend and fill up his spank bank with recent memories, not pointless theoretical fucking. This thing he's got for Esca may feel different, but it isn't. It's just a novelty, that's all. That and the fact that he hasn't gotten laid since he was home this summer. And that, at least, he can do something about.
After rinsing and turning off the shower, he slings his towel around his shoulders and opens the bathroom door, ready to drip dry as he heads back to his room. He's expecting to maybe take a nap for a few more hours, and if he feels up to it later, maybe finish the dishes. He is not expecting to find Esca in the hallway, leaning back against the opposite wall with his arms crossed and a wry smile twisting his lips.
"I've decided I'm being foolish," Esca says.
"Hey! Hi, um," Marcus scrambles to wrap the towel around his hips.
"Hi," Esca says, smile growing wider. "Your offer still stand?"
"Sure. Of course."
"And you don't have to run it by your housemates?"
"They won't care. As long as you don't take a crap in someone else's bed when you're pissed."
"Can't say that I do."
"And, um," he slides past and heads toward his room, nodding for Esca to follow, "We're not that good about quiet hours, so if you need--"
"I've got headphones. And the library."
"I mean," Marcus digs through the pile of unfolded laundry in front of his dresser, then drops his towel and tugs on a pair of sweats before turning back to Esca, "We can try it for a month, and we'll reassess then."
"Sounds fair."
"You mind if I ask what changed your mind?"
"I live two blocks from here. She'd already packed all my crap into my car and left my keys on the front seat. I figured, why not do this the easy way?"
"The easy way. Right." Marcus can't help it, Esca's smile is infectious and he grins back. "Well then, welcome aboard, roomie." He holds out his hand.
Esca shakes it firmly, then his expression turns serious. "Thank you."
"No prob." Marcus tries to let go.
But Esca doesn't release his hand. Instead, he gives it another squeeze and says, "Really. Thank you." After a few more moments of Esca searching his eyes for God knows what, he releases Marcus and says, "I'll just go grab my stuff."
And that's how they became roommates. Marcus would like to say he didn't know what he was getting into that afternoon, but the truth is, as he sat heavily on his bed and listened to Esca trotting down the stairs, he had a pretty good idea that he was getting in over his head.
Today was supposed to be one of the last Sundays off for the rest of the season, and Marcus had been looking forward to doing nothing more strenuous than getting Esca acquainted with the house and introducing him the rest of his new housemates - whenever they managed to get back. He's just pointed out the trap-door to the attic and pulled it down with an ominous creak when his cell buzzes in his back pocket. "Hold on a sec," he says, once he sees it's coach.
Esca shrugs and unfolds the stairs the rest of the way down, disappears up into the ceiling as Marcus takes the call. "New intel on the Blue Seals," the coach barks. "Locker room in one hour." The Blue Seals are the Eagles' biggest rivals in the division, and even though Marcus groans inwardly, he's excited to hear that maybe - just maybe - they've got something that might help them turn around their 0 and 7 record against those tricky bastards. "Gotcha, coach," he says. There's a small crash overhead and he climbs the stairs to find Esca cramming artificial Christmas tree parts and red tinsel garlands back in a waist high box.
"Oops," Esca says with a shrug.
"Don't worry about it. Most of the crap up here was left by old tenants. We'll get around to Ebaying it one of these days." He has to bend down to stand up here, but Esca can get away with just ducking his head. "Look, I hate to do this, but that was my coach and I've gotta go in for an emergency meeting."
"A football emergency?" Esca looks dubious.
"He says jump, we say 'how high, sir'? That's just how it works."
"No, I get it. I've served under some demanding taskmasters in my day." He smirks, and opens his mouth as if to add something, but then he just shakes his head. "Run along, then. Unless there are any other vital house rules I should know."
"Uh, no smoking in the house. Well, no cigarettes."
"Gotcha."
"Oh, and no crapping in the downstairs toilet. Or toilet paper. Or anything but pee, really. It's tempermental."
"No crapping on the beds or in the downstairs toilet. Gotcha."
"Great. I guess I'll see you later then."
"I guess you will," Esca says with a crooked smile.
*
A few yards away, one guy is barfing into a garbage can, and most of Marcus's teammates are bent over at the waist, gasping for air. Turns out the coach's intel was a ruse, since it consisted of, "If half of you pansy asses slackers can party hard enough to get the cops called, you can do laps. The Blue Seals aren't taking the day off, and that's why they keep kicking your ass. Now *move*, And if I hear one peep of whining, I will keep your sorry asses here till midnight. *Is that understood?*"
Marcus's whole body burns from exertion and he can feel a cramp coming on in his left calf, but Esca's crooked smile keeps popping into his head, And the fact that twenty four hours ago, he was moping around his living room, trying to pretend he wasn't put out over Esca's girlfriend. Now - not that it means anything - Esca isn't just single, he's going to be living with Marcus. In his room. It's awesome and horrible, but at least it means he'll get over this thing quicker - he's got to, right? Desensitization and all that.
"What the fuck are you so happy about, Farkus?" Gary asks him as they both struggle to catch their breath. "Coach catches you looking all goofy and shit like that, he'll give us all another five laps." And Gary's right, their coach is a sadist - according to him, if you don't look miserable, you're not working hard enough.
Marcus scrubs at his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Jesus, you're hopeless. What, are you getting laid later?"
"Depends. Is your mom in town?"
Gary gives him a hard shove and he slips in the mud, landing on his ass. For that, they get ten extra laps, by which point Marcus is way too tired to smile like an idiot, or think of much besides a hot shower and his bed.
*
Coach doesn't let them go until 9:30pm, and Marcus is pretty much a rubber legged zombie by the time he gets home. The steps up the front porch are a challenge that requires a pause half-way through, and that's when he hears the shouting inside. "You bastard!" comes Esca's voice, accent thicker than usual, "You fucking prick."
(author anon here)
anonymous
March 13 2011, 00:04:16 UTC
LOL. I had enough words left in the comment for another paragraph, but then I was like, NO! BE MOAR EVIL! (this has already drifted so off path from the original prompt, but at this point, I'll be happy if I can just get them to the sex in another 20 updates or so.
I love absolutely everything about this so far, and I can't wait to see where you're taking this, anon! And don't worry about having a bajillion more parts -- the anticipation is one of the best things about this fill.
Marcus swings open the front door to find Esca on the couch between Brian and Rashid, all of them clutching controllers and playing Call of Duty. Well, judging by the dead body Esca's cursing at it looks like it might be down to Brian and Rashid.
Rashid knocks his shoulder against Esca, "Don't blame me, man, you walked right into that. Oh, hey!" He hits pause and waves at Marcus. "Thumbs up on the new houseboy."
Brian shove some chips in his mouth and through the crunching, says, "Houseboy says he'll wear my girlfriend's French maid outfit while he works if I give him a hundred bucks. Wanna go halvsies?"
"You look like shit." Esca narrows his eyes at Marcus. "What happened to you?"
"Coach happened." He wobbles his way over to sit on the arm of the couch. "Tony got mouthy, so he'll be another hour at least. Did you hear police got called to that party last night?"
"Good," Esca grumbles. "I hope she got arrested."
"Bitches," Brian says philosophically. "Can't live with 'em, can't really handle the thought of blowing a dude."
"Hand jobs don't count," Rashid says.
"Hand jobs totally count," Brian says. "What do you think Esca?"
"I don't get a vote?" Marcus asks, forcing his voice to be light.
"You definitely don't get a vote," Rashid says. "I was on your floor last year, and your room was pussy central, if I recall."
"Slut," Brian adds through another mouthful of chips. "You've got no problems getting laid, so you wouldn't need to resort to a little reach around action. So which is it, Esca? Hand job from a dude - totally gay or no homo?"
"It's purely theoretical," Rashid says. "I'm not saying I would. Just that I don't think getting an assist from a buddy makes you gay. Just, you know, desperate and horny."
Esca strokes his chin thoughtfully. "I think it depends on how drunk you are. And what sort of porn you're watching at the time."
"Nice," Brian says. "Very diplomatic."
"And on that note," Marcus says, wincing as he stands up. "I'm gonna go pass out." He took a shower at the gym, and now, he's just got the daunting flight of stairs between him and sweet, sweet horizontal oblivion. Leaning heavily on the banister, he carefully takes the first step.
"Hold up," Esca calls climbing over the back of the couch. "All that dying is just getting in your way," he says to Brian and Rashid, "And I've got an early class anyway." Before Marcus can protest, Esca's gotten himself up under one of Marcus's arms. Marcus tries not to lean too heavily, but Esca is steady, and sturdier than he looks, especially when Marcus misses the second to top step and nearly pitches forward onto his face because his thigh has chosen that moment to cramp up.
"Shit, shit, shit." He hisses in pain and manages to limp his way to bed while clutching pathetically at Esca. "Sorry."
"Cramp? Or, what's that charming American term, 'charley horse'?"
Marcus nods as he clutches his thigh. "It'll pass," he grits out.
"Don't be daft. C'mon, roll over." Esca manhandles him on to his stomach, then with sure, firm strokes, he's grinding the heel of his hand into the clenched hamstring. "Used to get these all the time when I was dancing." He hits a particularly painful knot and Marcus cries out, then bites down on his pillow to keep from making more embarrassing noises. "I know," Esca says, voice dropping into a more soothing range. "I know, it'll ease up in a minute. Just breathe."
Marcus turns his head to the side and sucks in a shaky breath. Esca's scent hits him full on, and as muscle slowly unknots beneath Esca's relentless hands, he becomes more aware of the hardness of Esca's muscles where he's straddling Marcus, of the way Esca's bare foot touches the spot where his sweatpants have slid up, exposed skin to exposed skin, and of the soft grunts Esca gives when he leans his weight into the massage. Finally, the bruisingly deep rubbing eases up, and after a few gentler strokes up the length of Marcus's thigh, Esca says, "Better?"
Marcus nods, not trusting his voice.
After giving Marcus's ass a playful swat, Esca climbs off. "And don't think I'll go easy in class tomorrow," he says as he tugs off Marcus's sneakers. "Just because we're roomies now."
Marcus groans and tries to come up with a come back, but he's already drifting to sleep.
"Fuckin' do it," Esca says in that thick accent, and Marcus imagines flipping him to his back, bending him in half and squeezing the head of his cock inside that tight, tight ring of muscle, watching as Esca throws his head back, offering up that long, gorgeous arc of neck. Marcus leans down and drags his teeth along it, sucking hard at the the spot where neck meet shoulder, thrusting in, in, then those last few inches till he's buried balls deep and Esca is rutting and writhing against him, begging incoherently for more, deeper. But Marcus just holds him there, pinned, feeling him struggle not to get free, but to get closer. "Come in me," Esca begs, and it slams into him like linebacker, knocking the breath from his lungs as he shoots and shoots and shoots in his fist.
Well fuck, he thinks as he flings the mess to the tub then rinses off his hand. Not the best idea, but not exactly a surprise either. He rolls his head, cracking his neck, and stays under the water for a few minutes longer, enjoying the post orgasm buzz and the looseness of his muscles. It's not the first time Esca's invaded his jack off sessions, and it probably won't be the last. This thing will pass, like they all do, and he'll find himself a girlfriend and fill up his spank bank with recent memories, not pointless theoretical fucking. This thing he's got for Esca may feel different, but it isn't. It's just a novelty, that's all. That and the fact that he hasn't gotten laid since he was home this summer. And that, at least, he can do something about.
After rinsing and turning off the shower, he slings his towel around his shoulders and opens the bathroom door, ready to drip dry as he heads back to his room. He's expecting to maybe take a nap for a few more hours, and if he feels up to it later, maybe finish the dishes. He is not expecting to find Esca in the hallway, leaning back against the opposite wall with his arms crossed and a wry smile twisting his lips.
"I've decided I'm being foolish," Esca says.
"Hey! Hi, um," Marcus scrambles to wrap the towel around his hips.
"Hi," Esca says, smile growing wider. "Your offer still stand?"
"Sure. Of course."
"And you don't have to run it by your housemates?"
"They won't care. As long as you don't take a crap in someone else's bed when you're pissed."
"Can't say that I do."
"And, um," he slides past and heads toward his room, nodding for Esca to follow, "We're not that good about quiet hours, so if you need--"
"I've got headphones. And the library."
"I mean," Marcus digs through the pile of unfolded laundry in front of his dresser, then drops his towel and tugs on a pair of sweats before turning back to Esca, "We can try it for a month, and we'll reassess then."
"Sounds fair."
"You mind if I ask what changed your mind?"
"I live two blocks from here. She'd already packed all my crap into my car and left my keys on the front seat. I figured, why not do this the easy way?"
"The easy way. Right." Marcus can't help it, Esca's smile is infectious and he grins back. "Well then, welcome aboard, roomie." He holds out his hand.
Esca shakes it firmly, then his expression turns serious. "Thank you."
"No prob." Marcus tries to let go.
But Esca doesn't release his hand. Instead, he gives it another squeeze and says, "Really. Thank you." After a few more moments of Esca searching his eyes for God knows what, he releases Marcus and says, "I'll just go grab my stuff."
And that's how they became roommates. Marcus would like to say he didn't know what he was getting into that afternoon, but the truth is, as he sat heavily on his bed and listened to Esca trotting down the stairs, he had a pretty good idea that he was getting in over his head.
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esca is the biggest badass in the land! ♥ and marcus, oh, marcus. your life is so hard.
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Esca shrugs and unfolds the stairs the rest of the way down, disappears up into the ceiling as Marcus takes the call. "New intel on the Blue Seals," the coach barks. "Locker room in one hour." The Blue Seals are the Eagles' biggest rivals in the division, and even though Marcus groans inwardly, he's excited to hear that maybe - just maybe - they've got something that might help them turn around their 0 and 7 record against those tricky bastards. "Gotcha, coach," he says. There's a small crash overhead and he climbs the stairs to find Esca cramming artificial Christmas tree parts and red tinsel garlands back in a waist high box.
"Oops," Esca says with a shrug.
"Don't worry about it. Most of the crap up here was left by old tenants. We'll get around to Ebaying it one of these days." He has to bend down to stand up here, but Esca can get away with just ducking his head. "Look, I hate to do this, but that was my coach and I've gotta go in for an emergency meeting."
"A football emergency?" Esca looks dubious.
"He says jump, we say 'how high, sir'? That's just how it works."
"No, I get it. I've served under some demanding taskmasters in my day." He smirks, and opens his mouth as if to add something, but then he just shakes his head. "Run along, then. Unless there are any other vital house rules I should know."
"Uh, no smoking in the house. Well, no cigarettes."
"Gotcha."
"Oh, and no crapping in the downstairs toilet. Or toilet paper. Or anything but pee, really. It's tempermental."
"No crapping on the beds or in the downstairs toilet. Gotcha."
"Great. I guess I'll see you later then."
"I guess you will," Esca says with a crooked smile.
*
A few yards away, one guy is barfing into a garbage can, and most of Marcus's teammates are bent over at the waist, gasping for air. Turns out the coach's intel was a ruse, since it consisted of, "If half of you pansy asses slackers can party hard enough to get the cops called, you can do laps. The Blue Seals aren't taking the day off, and that's why they keep kicking your ass. Now *move*, And if I hear one peep of whining, I will keep your sorry asses here till midnight. *Is that understood?*"
Marcus's whole body burns from exertion and he can feel a cramp coming on in his left calf, but Esca's crooked smile keeps popping into his head, And the fact that twenty four hours ago, he was moping around his living room, trying to pretend he wasn't put out over Esca's girlfriend. Now - not that it means anything - Esca isn't just single, he's going to be living with Marcus. In his room. It's awesome and horrible, but at least it means he'll get over this thing quicker - he's got to, right? Desensitization and all that.
"What the fuck are you so happy about, Farkus?" Gary asks him as they both struggle to catch their breath. "Coach catches you looking all goofy and shit like that, he'll give us all another five laps." And Gary's right, their coach is a sadist - according to him, if you don't look miserable, you're not working hard enough.
Marcus scrubs at his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Jesus, you're hopeless. What, are you getting laid later?"
"Depends. Is your mom in town?"
Gary gives him a hard shove and he slips in the mud, landing on his ass. For that, they get ten extra laps, by which point Marcus is way too tired to smile like an idiot, or think of much besides a hot shower and his bed.
*
Coach doesn't let them go until 9:30pm, and Marcus is pretty much a rubber legged zombie by the time he gets home. The steps up the front porch are a challenge that requires a pause half-way through, and that's when he hears the shouting inside. "You bastard!" comes Esca's voice, accent thicker than usual, "You fucking prick."
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Rashid knocks his shoulder against Esca, "Don't blame me, man, you walked right into that. Oh, hey!" He hits pause and waves at Marcus. "Thumbs up on the new houseboy."
Brian shove some chips in his mouth and through the crunching, says, "Houseboy says he'll wear my girlfriend's French maid outfit while he works if I give him a hundred bucks. Wanna go halvsies?"
"You look like shit." Esca narrows his eyes at Marcus. "What happened to you?"
"Coach happened." He wobbles his way over to sit on the arm of the couch. "Tony got mouthy, so he'll be another hour at least. Did you hear police got called to that party last night?"
"Good," Esca grumbles. "I hope she got arrested."
"Bitches," Brian says philosophically. "Can't live with 'em, can't really handle the thought of blowing a dude."
"Hand jobs don't count," Rashid says.
"Hand jobs totally count," Brian says. "What do you think Esca?"
"I don't get a vote?" Marcus asks, forcing his voice to be light.
"You definitely don't get a vote," Rashid says. "I was on your floor last year, and your room was pussy central, if I recall."
"Slut," Brian adds through another mouthful of chips. "You've got no problems getting laid, so you wouldn't need to resort to a little reach around action. So which is it, Esca? Hand job from a dude - totally gay or no homo?"
"It's purely theoretical," Rashid says. "I'm not saying I would. Just that I don't think getting an assist from a buddy makes you gay. Just, you know, desperate and horny."
Esca strokes his chin thoughtfully. "I think it depends on how drunk you are. And what sort of porn you're watching at the time."
"Nice," Brian says. "Very diplomatic."
"And on that note," Marcus says, wincing as he stands up. "I'm gonna go pass out." He took a shower at the gym, and now, he's just got the daunting flight of stairs between him and sweet, sweet horizontal oblivion. Leaning heavily on the banister, he carefully takes the first step.
"Hold up," Esca calls climbing over the back of the couch. "All that dying is just getting in your way," he says to Brian and Rashid, "And I've got an early class anyway." Before Marcus can protest, Esca's gotten himself up under one of Marcus's arms. Marcus tries not to lean too heavily, but Esca is steady, and sturdier than he looks, especially when Marcus misses the second to top step and nearly pitches forward onto his face because his thigh has chosen that moment to cramp up.
"Shit, shit, shit." He hisses in pain and manages to limp his way to bed while clutching pathetically at Esca. "Sorry."
"Cramp? Or, what's that charming American term, 'charley horse'?"
Marcus nods as he clutches his thigh. "It'll pass," he grits out.
"Don't be daft. C'mon, roll over." Esca manhandles him on to his stomach, then with sure, firm strokes, he's grinding the heel of his hand into the clenched hamstring. "Used to get these all the time when I was dancing." He hits a particularly painful knot and Marcus cries out, then bites down on his pillow to keep from making more embarrassing noises. "I know," Esca says, voice dropping into a more soothing range. "I know, it'll ease up in a minute. Just breathe."
Marcus turns his head to the side and sucks in a shaky breath. Esca's scent hits him full on, and as muscle slowly unknots beneath Esca's relentless hands, he becomes more aware of the hardness of Esca's muscles where he's straddling Marcus, of the way Esca's bare foot touches the spot where his sweatpants have slid up, exposed skin to exposed skin, and of the soft grunts Esca gives when he leans his weight into the massage. Finally, the bruisingly deep rubbing eases up, and after a few gentler strokes up the length of Marcus's thigh, Esca says, "Better?"
Marcus nods, not trusting his voice.
After giving Marcus's ass a playful swat, Esca climbs off. "And don't think I'll go easy in class tomorrow," he says as he tugs off Marcus's sneakers. "Just because we're roomies now."
Marcus groans and tries to come up with a come back, but he's already drifting to sleep.
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