Mark grabs a pillow from the couch, a cross-stitched thing that says HOME in big red letters with little birds and flowers in thread x-s all around it. Roger got it off the street for fifty cents; he had to wash it about ten times before Mark would even touch it. Seems funny now that he’s clutching it to his bare chest to fill the need of grasping something in his arms.
“Good?” Roger asks. He’s all the way inside, pausing to adjust his own feet and make sure Mark is adequately comfortable bent over the back of the couch. Mark says nothing when he feels Roger’s fingers skate across his ass, not to touch him deliberately but to check the rim of the condom, again.
It’s a little awkward, these small adjustments, but then Roger rubs his cheek against the back of Mark’s neck and follows it with an open-mouthed kiss, wet warm heat that gets all his gears moving. Mark responds with a sigh and a press back against Roger’s hips.
Roger moans in a little stutter of surprise and pulls out, slick and easy. “That seems like a yes,” he says, hands moving along Mark’s sides. His voice sounds far away, distracted, by the sight of his cock pulling from Mark’s ass and then pushing back in again, probably. Maybe also from the feel of it, the look of Mark arching into him, the feel of the slightest breeze cutting through the room full of summer heat.
Mark moves the pillow down a little so it’s trapped between his stomach and the sofa back. Another small sigh escapes Roger’s lips and they both fumble at Mark’s right hip as Mark reaches back to hold Roger’s hand or his wrist or whatever he can get.
“It’s yes,” he says as the rhythm picks up a little speed and starts to be something they’re in instead of something they’re doing. Roger’s free hand presses against Mark’s balls, moves up to give him more, give him everything.
“It’s yes,” he says again and Roger isn’t disputing that, Roger’s teeth are against his shoulder. Mark pants hard and bucks back, wonders distantly if he’ll think later that he sounds stupid during sex but right now he can’t possibly find the fuck to give.
“Want you to come,” Roger says, hoarsely and so much closer than before. “Come while I’m in you.”
“Fuck me hard,” Mark replies. He moves back a little into Roger and the pillow drops, giving him room to bat Roger’s hand away and replace it with his own. Roger responds by grabbing Mark’s hips, thumbs sinking into the cheeks of his ass, and gives it to him fiercely and sings out his name.
“In me, in me,” Mark says mindlessly, and comes against the back of the couch, catching what he can in his hand and directing it down his own legs. He cries out after the fact, tension leaving his dick and the rest of him nearly at once, collapsing somewhat onto his elbows.
“Baby,” Roger says like he can’t believe Mark’s really here, running his hands over Mark’s thighs and up his stomach, smearing come on them both.
“Okay,” Mark says with a gasp that becomes a laugh. “Okay,” he says again as Roger chuckles back and starts to move again. “Now on me.”