Day One (With a Happy Ending)
So, I made changes! Because The Other Jez likes happy endings and I, The Other Mark, think it's about time the boys had one, I've made it a little more upbeat. Therefore it may be so unlike Peep Show that I'll have to call it an AU. But, ultimately, this makes us the benevolent god and goddess sent to counteract Jesse Armstrong and Sam Bain and all their evil spawn.
TITLE: Day One (With a Happy Ending)
FANDOM: Peep Show
PAIRING: Mark/Jeremy
WARNINGS: Bad language, sex, the usual.
NOTE: Con-crit is still very much welcome!
Mark wakes slowly into a sex-deprived, writhing funk. He is aware, before anything else, that his cock is already up and ready to go and might as well have done something useful - say, make breakfast for him - by now.
Come on, cock pleads, we never do anything fun anymore.
Mark gives cock a stern, admonishing look. Cock is young and impulsive and must learn that wisdom is boss. Two months, nearly, since cock’s last proper outing and Mark has taken on celibacy as a sort of battle between intellect and libido. Libido, as cock smugly points out each morning, is winning. Mark’s still backing intellect.
He’s the Field Marshal Haig of intellect.
Still, he turns and rubs against the mattress, trying to call back the dreams that have long since disappeared. He can hear Jez’s music playing. He remembers that it’s a Saturday. A quick glance at the clock reveals that he’s overslept, but he has nowhere to go. Only an illogical sense of duty (plus the fervently denied knowledge that he will crack one off eventually and it might as well be done somewhere clean) drives him to the shower.
In the shower the dreams start to come back; hard to grasp images, longer pieces played out like clips of film, vague feelings of embarrassment. Sometimes the girl in these visions is Sophie. Sometimes she is an actress in some film Jez had been watching, someone Mark doesn’t even fancy. The man isn’t always Mark. Quite frequently he is a guy called Dave who lives a few floors below. He and Mark say ‘hi’ to each other on the stairs sometimes, but they’ve never really spoken. He’s taller than Mark and looks stronger, but not overbearing. Kind of like a swimmer. In the dream he has that kind of swimmers’ body.
He looks good with Sophie. Dominant, but not aggressive. Mark tugs harder at his cock just as the scene changes and, he is embarrassed to realise, the Sophie-unknown-girl disappears entirely. It’s just him and Dave from downstairs. The whole thing turns into some kind of homoerotic wrestling match. Mark grips onto Dave’s shoulders, holding that mirage of firm flesh in his finger tips as he continues to masturbate. He’s keeping Dave at arm’s length. But he knows, just knows, that Dave’s easy strength will win out in the end. In the shower, he thrusts involuntarily, the strokes coming feverishly fast.
All at once it’s over and he realises that he’s been under the hot shower too long. He needs to get out before he faints.
When Mark finally makes it to the kitchen, Jez is already there, peering thoughtfully into a bowl of Cheerios. He’s dressed but he still smells like last night’s pub. Mark ignores his melancholy pensiveness in favour of toast. He only gives in once he’s eaten two pieces and Jez still hasn’t spoken.
“Morning,” he says, tentatively, disregarding the fact that they’ve been in the room together for quarter of an hour.
Jeremy grunts sadly.
You’ve been dumped, thinks Mark.
“So… Is anything…? Anything the matter?” asks Mark.
“Oh nothing,” says Jez, looking up for the first time, “Just wondering what to do with my day. You know. Now that I don’t have to worry about taking Christine to that new age yoga shit. Did I tell you? We had a talk. Decided to see other people. Things just weren’t working out.”
Knew it! Mark thinks smugly, Welcome back to Singledom. I am going to own you at celibacy.
“Sorry mate,” says Mark, sympathetically. He pats Jeremy once, quickly, on the shoulder. “It’s not so bad, is it? I didn’t think you even liked Christine that much.”
“Guess not,” Jeremy says.
He doesn’t quite know if he should be fishing for sympathy or putting on a show of manly resilience. His pride is pretty wounded so he goes for ‘fishing for sympathy’. He turns his most pathetic, mournfully wide eyes on Mark and Mark allows himself to be taken in, like any decent friend would.
“Look,” says Mark, “I’m not doing anything today. How about we sit around and watch that Indiana Jones boxset I bought? Why don’t we order a Chinese? For lunch.”
Jez nods with an air of silent gratitude. The idea of Chinese takeaway for lunch is intriguingly rebellious. Can it even be done?
“Is the Chinese open?” asks Jez, with due caution. I’m not sure if I can take another betrayal…
“I only mentioned it because they’ve just started doing lunches,” says Mark indignantly, “I’m not mad.”
Jez is satisfied. The world seems to brighten a little, and he’s already finding it hard to be completely heartbroken.
“Sounds good,” he says, “But,” he then adds quickly, “Super Hans is coming ‘round this afternoon so…” he jumps up and heads for the door, “Might have to miss out on ‘Last Crusade’. Don’t look at me like that; we’ve got important stuff to do. No one cares about ‘Crusade’ anyway.”
Mark sits, tight lipped, until Jez has finished talking and skipped off.
I care about Crusade. All the right thinking people care about Crusade.
He drowns out the annoyance by focusing on Jez’s copy of NME. None of it makes any sense.
The morning passes nicely, and then turns into a slightly more irritating afternoon. Well, that’s how Mark finds it. Jez is pleasantly distracted from any thoughts of Christine, which irritates Mark even more.
Jez wanders into Mark’s room late in the afternoon.
“What’re you doing?” Jez asks, bending down to peer at Mark’s laptop screen before Mark can snap it shut.
“Nothing,” says Mark, irritably.
Jez pretends that he didn’t have a chance to see the elf girl on all fours.
“Did you want anything?”
“What? Oh. Not really. I just came to ask if you want to come to the pub.”
Mark briefly thinks of refusing. He’s had a terrible day. The dreams from the previous night are still lodged at the back of his mind, and every time he drops his guard he finds himself agonising over them. No such worries for Jez, it seems. He’s probably forgotten all about Christine by now. Except that… Sometimes he stops for a moment, when he doesn’t have anything to occupy him, his brow furrows and he looks as though something unpleasant has just caught up with him. Mark notices that look pass over him now. Perhaps Mark’s been too hard on him. Perhaps Mark should help keep him busy.
It’s like Dad always says, Mark thinks, All you have to do is take these things and put them away where no one can see them.
“Yeah. Sure,” says Mark, with the worrying voice of someone who’s decided to put a friend’s world to rights.
The tone of voice sends warning signals to some part of Jez’s brain but he just grins. When has a trip to the pub ever failed him? Alcohol; his best friend (Mark or Super Hans - he doesn’t have to choose, they’re both coming). It reminds him that the world isn’t all bad. The world isn’t all Christine fucking Brown fuck her and her fucking yoga instructor.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Mark asks. It’s the look again, flickering past.
Jez grins, a little manically, “Brilliant. God, the pub. All three of us going to the pub. All mates. Isn’t it great?”
An hour later. Jeremy, Mark and Super Hans are sitting at a bar. As far as Mark is concerned it isn’t the bar, just a bar. He’d wanted to go to the local but Jez had insisted on trying somewhere new. As it happens, this place isn’t even entirely new. It’s owned by a friend of Big Suze, who had brought both Mark and Jez here on separate occasions, just out of a sense of loyalty to said friend. Mark doesn’t like it, Jez doesn’t like it and it’s doubtful whether Big Suze has ever liked it either. But it’s trendy enough to make Jez feel like he’s a proper grown up person whilst making Mark feel ill at ease. Which goes even further to making Jez feel good about himself. Perhaps he’s still riding the crest of this wave of self-esteem when he sees the two girls sitting at a table across the room a little while later. Just one pint inside him and he’s convinced that one of them would just love to suck him off. But he’s feeling generous, now that Mark’s sulking on his trendy bar stool, so he turns to Mark first.
“I’m going to see if those girls want to join us, okay?”
“What?” Mark is woken abruptly from his sulk, “No. No, don’t do that. It’s just us tonight, right? All mates, remember?”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” says Jez, “But, in the spirit of true friendship, the friendship between all man… all humankind…”
“Please, Jez. I really don’t want to spend all night convincing some strangers that I’m not a pervert or an idiot or a mental case. Can’t… can’t you and Super Hans go and talk to them?”
“Super Hans is busy taking pot with the barmaid, remember?” Jez says, moodily, “You’re the only friend I’ve got left. You have to chat up the less pretty one. I’ve even chosen one you could have a chance with. I might have decided to try the two really sexy women over there,” Jez shoves a thumb in the appropriate direction, “But I didn’t, Mark, and you know why? Because you’re my friend.”
“I’m grateful, Jeremy, really I am. But I’d prefer it if you didn’t whore me out to random women.”
Jez finds this a difficult concept to grasp. He can’t remember or imagine a time when being thrown at any female has been unpleasant to him. He has to take some time to think about it, but one idea quickly comes to him. He looks at Mark thoughtfully and asks, “Are you going through one of your gay phases again?”
“What?” Mark snaps.
“There’s no need to get all worked up about it. Homosexuality isn‘t…”
“Jeremy!”
Jez grins and says, “All I’m saying is that no one cares if you’re gay…”
“Bisexual,” Mark concedes, exasperatedly.
“No one cares if you’re bisexual. Everyone’s bisexual. Madonna, the Lib Dems, Bowie… No, wait, he’s not anymore, is he?”
“Well, I’m not even sure if I’m that,” says Mark, “And, anyway, I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Would you have sex with me?” Jez asks, unperturbed and insanely curious.
“No!” Mark is beyond alarmed, “You…” He’s at a loss. Overwhelmed by the wrongness of this idea. Where can he start? “You haven’t even cleaned your teeth in three days.”
“It wasn’t a proposition,” Jez says evenly. He would though, he thinks, He’s probably fancied me since uni. Kept it all inside. Poor guy.
Jez’s new found sense of generosity is touched by this concept. Of course, he’s not into that kind of thing, but there are a great number of new things that he’d try when flattered. Within moments he’s made up his mind to help Mark out, although he’s not yet sure how far he’s willing to go.
Mark tries to change the conversation. But Jez isn’t paying attention. He’s too busy wondering whether the curiosity value of being sucked off by Mark (could be a bit awkward, being best friends and all, might take a lot of alcohol) or being sucked off by the prettier of the two girls at the table is more appealing.
It isn’t until Mark is unlocking their front door in the early hours of the morning that the conversation returns. Up until this point, he’d mistakenly believed he’d be safe.
“If it was for the sake of your, you know, your self discovery, I’d totally fuck you, mate. That’s how much I love you.”
“We’re not having sex,” says Mark, guiding wobbly Jeremy into the flat.
“It’s because you’re so uptight. You can’t even enjoy your own body. It’s really depressing.”
“I am not uptight,” Mark says evenly, “I just don’t want to have sex with you. I mean, have you even thought how weird that would be?”
“Aha!” Jez crows, as if Mark has just confessed love to him, “You do want me! You’re just scared because it’s so ‘weird’.”
“I am not scared, I just do not want to have sex with you.”
Mark’s head is aching and he feels like he’s about to snap. He wants to get to bed and have a wank and sleep until Sunday afternoon. The wank would have had nothing to do with Jeremy, except that he’s made Mark so desperate not to want sex that Mark is feeling increasingly aroused.
“Fine,” says Jez, beginning to feel irritated too, “If you want to be stuck in your little bubble of self-denial. You do that. You’re just too much of a prude to try.”
That’s it. Mark snaps.
“All right. Let’s have sex. Let’s just try it out, shall we? Will that make you happy?”
“Fine!”
“All right then.”
To Mark’s infinite annoyance, Jez smirks.
Finally, Jez is thinking, He’s going to let me help him.
Neither of them knows how to start. The only thing they’re quite certain of is that neither of them is going to back down. Mark chooses to be the decisive one. Having never reached this stage with a man before, he decides that he should simply treat Jez like a woman and see how it goes. He takes hold of the back of Jez’s neck, leans up and forward to kiss Jez on the lips. The first contact is light and fleeting. Jez doesn’t respond, so he kisses him again with a warm, soft ferocity. It’s messy but Jez seems more receptive this time. He puts his arms around Mark. He withdraws them again quickly but when Mark pushes him up against the door, he instinctively grabs hold of Mark’s arse and shoves his tongue right into Mark’s mouth.
“So,” says Mark, withdrawing slightly. He is trying his best to remain composed. “Whose bedroom?”
“Yours,” says Jez. The response is immediate but it’s not a casual decision. As soon as the thought comes to him, he is turned on by the thought of fucking Mark on those always clean sheets.
As it happens, neither of them gets fucked, not exactly. Jez is first on the bed, and Mark holds him down. Mutual masturbation seems like a safe place to start. They’ve both had enough solo practice to have a good idea of what to do. After a second of hesitation, Jez takes hold of Mark’s cock. It takes a moment longer for Mark to realise that he should be doing the same for Jez. There’s a bit of fumbling and embarrassment at first. Jez starts to giggle, which makes Mark laugh, and by the time they’re gasping (Mark screeches at one point, which sends Jez into hysterics) they’re both having fun. Perhaps it’s the drink.
After that, Mark thinks, Oh what the hell. He starts kissing Jez again. First on the mouth and then working his way downwards. Jez obligingly rolls over onto his front, which is a surprise to Mark and will probably be a surprise to Jez in the morning. Mark kisses Jez’s arse, putting out his tongue on the descent into the crease. It’s not a nice sensation, all in all; men’s bottoms are hairy, not good for kissing.
Yet, surprisingly, making love to Jez feels awkward but comfortable. Not unlike making love to Sophie. Mark misses the curves, the smooth flesh and the soft hair he’d bury his nose in at her shoulder. But he is surprised by just how much he likes the tauter skin and muscle, how little he is put off by the coarse spread of hair below the shoulders or again on the chest. His favourite parts, though, turn out to be Jeremy’s thighs, as Jeremy soon discovers.
When they are done, Jez curls up onto his side. Mark wonders whether to curl around him, but this turns out to be one step of liberalism too far. He lies down on his back and tries to sleep. His mind is too full. He wonders, as the thoughts flood over him, whether this could be for him. It takes a lot of energy to keep searching for that one perfect person, when your mind is only demanding greater perfection as time treads on. You’d think that the older and wiser you get, the easier it would be to resign yourself to reality. Of course, it turns out that the more you live with reality, the more you crave something faultlessly lovely. He and Jez have been living together for years already. They annoy each other, of course, but it’s never stopped them from being close. Maybe they should just buy a dog, find a house, settle down. It doesn’t sound so bad. Not bad at all. And workable too.
Mark reaches out his hand and lets it lie, just touching Jeremy’s back. All this will be over by the morning, Mark realises. It’s just drink and loneliness. And tomorrow… Well, who knows what it will be by tomorrow.
Jez turns over with a snore that manages to half wake him up. Mark lies looking at him for a while. Jez is facing him, and his eyes are almost open but he’s mainly focusing on his own eyelids.
Mark takes a long, slow breath and asks, “Why don’t we get a dog?”
It’s a first step. Perhaps children, one day, just to keep Mum happy. No, on second thoughts, will Jez ever be ready for a child? I’m not even sure if I’ll be ready for a child. God, when you think about it… homosexuality is the best get out clause I’ve ever had.
“Yeah sure,” says Jez, addressing whoever it was who just said that thing.
Mark leaves it at this. He closes his eyes, feeling strangely content. Who knows what Jez will say when he really wakes up. They probably won’t get a dog, at least not for another few years. Things will go on as they have done for so long, no doubt. It will be an infuriating, mundane life, without a huge house in Suffolk or a highly paid executive position. But it will have plenty of infuriating, mundane time with Jeremy. Somehow, this is enough to make Mark happy.
TITLE: Day One (With a Happy Ending)
FANDOM: Peep Show
PAIRING: Mark/Jeremy
WARNINGS: Bad language, sex, the usual.
NOTE: Con-crit is still very much welcome!
Mark wakes slowly into a sex-deprived, writhing funk. He is aware, before anything else, that his cock is already up and ready to go and might as well have done something useful - say, make breakfast for him - by now.
Come on, cock pleads, we never do anything fun anymore.
Mark gives cock a stern, admonishing look. Cock is young and impulsive and must learn that wisdom is boss. Two months, nearly, since cock’s last proper outing and Mark has taken on celibacy as a sort of battle between intellect and libido. Libido, as cock smugly points out each morning, is winning. Mark’s still backing intellect.
He’s the Field Marshal Haig of intellect.
Still, he turns and rubs against the mattress, trying to call back the dreams that have long since disappeared. He can hear Jez’s music playing. He remembers that it’s a Saturday. A quick glance at the clock reveals that he’s overslept, but he has nowhere to go. Only an illogical sense of duty (plus the fervently denied knowledge that he will crack one off eventually and it might as well be done somewhere clean) drives him to the shower.
In the shower the dreams start to come back; hard to grasp images, longer pieces played out like clips of film, vague feelings of embarrassment. Sometimes the girl in these visions is Sophie. Sometimes she is an actress in some film Jez had been watching, someone Mark doesn’t even fancy. The man isn’t always Mark. Quite frequently he is a guy called Dave who lives a few floors below. He and Mark say ‘hi’ to each other on the stairs sometimes, but they’ve never really spoken. He’s taller than Mark and looks stronger, but not overbearing. Kind of like a swimmer. In the dream he has that kind of swimmers’ body.
He looks good with Sophie. Dominant, but not aggressive. Mark tugs harder at his cock just as the scene changes and, he is embarrassed to realise, the Sophie-unknown-girl disappears entirely. It’s just him and Dave from downstairs. The whole thing turns into some kind of homoerotic wrestling match. Mark grips onto Dave’s shoulders, holding that mirage of firm flesh in his finger tips as he continues to masturbate. He’s keeping Dave at arm’s length. But he knows, just knows, that Dave’s easy strength will win out in the end. In the shower, he thrusts involuntarily, the strokes coming feverishly fast.
All at once it’s over and he realises that he’s been under the hot shower too long. He needs to get out before he faints.
When Mark finally makes it to the kitchen, Jez is already there, peering thoughtfully into a bowl of Cheerios. He’s dressed but he still smells like last night’s pub. Mark ignores his melancholy pensiveness in favour of toast. He only gives in once he’s eaten two pieces and Jez still hasn’t spoken.
“Morning,” he says, tentatively, disregarding the fact that they’ve been in the room together for quarter of an hour.
Jeremy grunts sadly.
You’ve been dumped, thinks Mark.
“So… Is anything…? Anything the matter?” asks Mark.
“Oh nothing,” says Jez, looking up for the first time, “Just wondering what to do with my day. You know. Now that I don’t have to worry about taking Christine to that new age yoga shit. Did I tell you? We had a talk. Decided to see other people. Things just weren’t working out.”
Knew it! Mark thinks smugly, Welcome back to Singledom. I am going to own you at celibacy.
“Sorry mate,” says Mark, sympathetically. He pats Jeremy once, quickly, on the shoulder. “It’s not so bad, is it? I didn’t think you even liked Christine that much.”
“Guess not,” Jeremy says.
He doesn’t quite know if he should be fishing for sympathy or putting on a show of manly resilience. His pride is pretty wounded so he goes for ‘fishing for sympathy’. He turns his most pathetic, mournfully wide eyes on Mark and Mark allows himself to be taken in, like any decent friend would.
“Look,” says Mark, “I’m not doing anything today. How about we sit around and watch that Indiana Jones boxset I bought? Why don’t we order a Chinese? For lunch.”
Jez nods with an air of silent gratitude. The idea of Chinese takeaway for lunch is intriguingly rebellious. Can it even be done?
“Is the Chinese open?” asks Jez, with due caution. I’m not sure if I can take another betrayal…
“I only mentioned it because they’ve just started doing lunches,” says Mark indignantly, “I’m not mad.”
Jez is satisfied. The world seems to brighten a little, and he’s already finding it hard to be completely heartbroken.
“Sounds good,” he says, “But,” he then adds quickly, “Super Hans is coming ‘round this afternoon so…” he jumps up and heads for the door, “Might have to miss out on ‘Last Crusade’. Don’t look at me like that; we’ve got important stuff to do. No one cares about ‘Crusade’ anyway.”
Mark sits, tight lipped, until Jez has finished talking and skipped off.
I care about Crusade. All the right thinking people care about Crusade.
He drowns out the annoyance by focusing on Jez’s copy of NME. None of it makes any sense.
The morning passes nicely, and then turns into a slightly more irritating afternoon. Well, that’s how Mark finds it. Jez is pleasantly distracted from any thoughts of Christine, which irritates Mark even more.
Jez wanders into Mark’s room late in the afternoon.
“What’re you doing?” Jez asks, bending down to peer at Mark’s laptop screen before Mark can snap it shut.
“Nothing,” says Mark, irritably.
Jez pretends that he didn’t have a chance to see the elf girl on all fours.
“Did you want anything?”
“What? Oh. Not really. I just came to ask if you want to come to the pub.”
Mark briefly thinks of refusing. He’s had a terrible day. The dreams from the previous night are still lodged at the back of his mind, and every time he drops his guard he finds himself agonising over them. No such worries for Jez, it seems. He’s probably forgotten all about Christine by now. Except that… Sometimes he stops for a moment, when he doesn’t have anything to occupy him, his brow furrows and he looks as though something unpleasant has just caught up with him. Mark notices that look pass over him now. Perhaps Mark’s been too hard on him. Perhaps Mark should help keep him busy.
It’s like Dad always says, Mark thinks, All you have to do is take these things and put them away where no one can see them.
“Yeah. Sure,” says Mark, with the worrying voice of someone who’s decided to put a friend’s world to rights.
The tone of voice sends warning signals to some part of Jez’s brain but he just grins. When has a trip to the pub ever failed him? Alcohol; his best friend (Mark or Super Hans - he doesn’t have to choose, they’re both coming). It reminds him that the world isn’t all bad. The world isn’t all Christine fucking Brown fuck her and her fucking yoga instructor.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Mark asks. It’s the look again, flickering past.
Jez grins, a little manically, “Brilliant. God, the pub. All three of us going to the pub. All mates. Isn’t it great?”
An hour later. Jeremy, Mark and Super Hans are sitting at a bar. As far as Mark is concerned it isn’t the bar, just a bar. He’d wanted to go to the local but Jez had insisted on trying somewhere new. As it happens, this place isn’t even entirely new. It’s owned by a friend of Big Suze, who had brought both Mark and Jez here on separate occasions, just out of a sense of loyalty to said friend. Mark doesn’t like it, Jez doesn’t like it and it’s doubtful whether Big Suze has ever liked it either. But it’s trendy enough to make Jez feel like he’s a proper grown up person whilst making Mark feel ill at ease. Which goes even further to making Jez feel good about himself. Perhaps he’s still riding the crest of this wave of self-esteem when he sees the two girls sitting at a table across the room a little while later. Just one pint inside him and he’s convinced that one of them would just love to suck him off. But he’s feeling generous, now that Mark’s sulking on his trendy bar stool, so he turns to Mark first.
“I’m going to see if those girls want to join us, okay?”
“What?” Mark is woken abruptly from his sulk, “No. No, don’t do that. It’s just us tonight, right? All mates, remember?”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” says Jez, “But, in the spirit of true friendship, the friendship between all man… all humankind…”
“Please, Jez. I really don’t want to spend all night convincing some strangers that I’m not a pervert or an idiot or a mental case. Can’t… can’t you and Super Hans go and talk to them?”
“Super Hans is busy taking pot with the barmaid, remember?” Jez says, moodily, “You’re the only friend I’ve got left. You have to chat up the less pretty one. I’ve even chosen one you could have a chance with. I might have decided to try the two really sexy women over there,” Jez shoves a thumb in the appropriate direction, “But I didn’t, Mark, and you know why? Because you’re my friend.”
“I’m grateful, Jeremy, really I am. But I’d prefer it if you didn’t whore me out to random women.”
Jez finds this a difficult concept to grasp. He can’t remember or imagine a time when being thrown at any female has been unpleasant to him. He has to take some time to think about it, but one idea quickly comes to him. He looks at Mark thoughtfully and asks, “Are you going through one of your gay phases again?”
“What?” Mark snaps.
“There’s no need to get all worked up about it. Homosexuality isn‘t…”
“Jeremy!”
Jez grins and says, “All I’m saying is that no one cares if you’re gay…”
“Bisexual,” Mark concedes, exasperatedly.
“No one cares if you’re bisexual. Everyone’s bisexual. Madonna, the Lib Dems, Bowie… No, wait, he’s not anymore, is he?”
“Well, I’m not even sure if I’m that,” says Mark, “And, anyway, I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Would you have sex with me?” Jez asks, unperturbed and insanely curious.
“No!” Mark is beyond alarmed, “You…” He’s at a loss. Overwhelmed by the wrongness of this idea. Where can he start? “You haven’t even cleaned your teeth in three days.”
“It wasn’t a proposition,” Jez says evenly. He would though, he thinks, He’s probably fancied me since uni. Kept it all inside. Poor guy.
Jez’s new found sense of generosity is touched by this concept. Of course, he’s not into that kind of thing, but there are a great number of new things that he’d try when flattered. Within moments he’s made up his mind to help Mark out, although he’s not yet sure how far he’s willing to go.
Mark tries to change the conversation. But Jez isn’t paying attention. He’s too busy wondering whether the curiosity value of being sucked off by Mark (could be a bit awkward, being best friends and all, might take a lot of alcohol) or being sucked off by the prettier of the two girls at the table is more appealing.
It isn’t until Mark is unlocking their front door in the early hours of the morning that the conversation returns. Up until this point, he’d mistakenly believed he’d be safe.
“If it was for the sake of your, you know, your self discovery, I’d totally fuck you, mate. That’s how much I love you.”
“We’re not having sex,” says Mark, guiding wobbly Jeremy into the flat.
“It’s because you’re so uptight. You can’t even enjoy your own body. It’s really depressing.”
“I am not uptight,” Mark says evenly, “I just don’t want to have sex with you. I mean, have you even thought how weird that would be?”
“Aha!” Jez crows, as if Mark has just confessed love to him, “You do want me! You’re just scared because it’s so ‘weird’.”
“I am not scared, I just do not want to have sex with you.”
Mark’s head is aching and he feels like he’s about to snap. He wants to get to bed and have a wank and sleep until Sunday afternoon. The wank would have had nothing to do with Jeremy, except that he’s made Mark so desperate not to want sex that Mark is feeling increasingly aroused.
“Fine,” says Jez, beginning to feel irritated too, “If you want to be stuck in your little bubble of self-denial. You do that. You’re just too much of a prude to try.”
That’s it. Mark snaps.
“All right. Let’s have sex. Let’s just try it out, shall we? Will that make you happy?”
“Fine!”
“All right then.”
To Mark’s infinite annoyance, Jez smirks.
Finally, Jez is thinking, He’s going to let me help him.
Neither of them knows how to start. The only thing they’re quite certain of is that neither of them is going to back down. Mark chooses to be the decisive one. Having never reached this stage with a man before, he decides that he should simply treat Jez like a woman and see how it goes. He takes hold of the back of Jez’s neck, leans up and forward to kiss Jez on the lips. The first contact is light and fleeting. Jez doesn’t respond, so he kisses him again with a warm, soft ferocity. It’s messy but Jez seems more receptive this time. He puts his arms around Mark. He withdraws them again quickly but when Mark pushes him up against the door, he instinctively grabs hold of Mark’s arse and shoves his tongue right into Mark’s mouth.
“So,” says Mark, withdrawing slightly. He is trying his best to remain composed. “Whose bedroom?”
“Yours,” says Jez. The response is immediate but it’s not a casual decision. As soon as the thought comes to him, he is turned on by the thought of fucking Mark on those always clean sheets.
As it happens, neither of them gets fucked, not exactly. Jez is first on the bed, and Mark holds him down. Mutual masturbation seems like a safe place to start. They’ve both had enough solo practice to have a good idea of what to do. After a second of hesitation, Jez takes hold of Mark’s cock. It takes a moment longer for Mark to realise that he should be doing the same for Jez. There’s a bit of fumbling and embarrassment at first. Jez starts to giggle, which makes Mark laugh, and by the time they’re gasping (Mark screeches at one point, which sends Jez into hysterics) they’re both having fun. Perhaps it’s the drink.
After that, Mark thinks, Oh what the hell. He starts kissing Jez again. First on the mouth and then working his way downwards. Jez obligingly rolls over onto his front, which is a surprise to Mark and will probably be a surprise to Jez in the morning. Mark kisses Jez’s arse, putting out his tongue on the descent into the crease. It’s not a nice sensation, all in all; men’s bottoms are hairy, not good for kissing.
Yet, surprisingly, making love to Jez feels awkward but comfortable. Not unlike making love to Sophie. Mark misses the curves, the smooth flesh and the soft hair he’d bury his nose in at her shoulder. But he is surprised by just how much he likes the tauter skin and muscle, how little he is put off by the coarse spread of hair below the shoulders or again on the chest. His favourite parts, though, turn out to be Jeremy’s thighs, as Jeremy soon discovers.
When they are done, Jez curls up onto his side. Mark wonders whether to curl around him, but this turns out to be one step of liberalism too far. He lies down on his back and tries to sleep. His mind is too full. He wonders, as the thoughts flood over him, whether this could be for him. It takes a lot of energy to keep searching for that one perfect person, when your mind is only demanding greater perfection as time treads on. You’d think that the older and wiser you get, the easier it would be to resign yourself to reality. Of course, it turns out that the more you live with reality, the more you crave something faultlessly lovely. He and Jez have been living together for years already. They annoy each other, of course, but it’s never stopped them from being close. Maybe they should just buy a dog, find a house, settle down. It doesn’t sound so bad. Not bad at all. And workable too.
Mark reaches out his hand and lets it lie, just touching Jeremy’s back. All this will be over by the morning, Mark realises. It’s just drink and loneliness. And tomorrow… Well, who knows what it will be by tomorrow.
Jez turns over with a snore that manages to half wake him up. Mark lies looking at him for a while. Jez is facing him, and his eyes are almost open but he’s mainly focusing on his own eyelids.
Mark takes a long, slow breath and asks, “Why don’t we get a dog?”
It’s a first step. Perhaps children, one day, just to keep Mum happy. No, on second thoughts, will Jez ever be ready for a child? I’m not even sure if I’ll be ready for a child. God, when you think about it… homosexuality is the best get out clause I’ve ever had.
“Yeah sure,” says Jez, addressing whoever it was who just said that thing.
Mark leaves it at this. He closes his eyes, feeling strangely content. Who knows what Jez will say when he really wakes up. They probably won’t get a dog, at least not for another few years. Things will go on as they have done for so long, no doubt. It will be an infuriating, mundane life, without a huge house in Suffolk or a highly paid executive position. But it will have plenty of infuriating, mundane time with Jeremy. Somehow, this is enough to make Mark happy.