Word Count: 1,570
Disclaimer: Ugh, after all this time, despite not owning anything, these effing boys still won't leave me alone!
Summary: Pre-Rent. Mark didn't know what he was getting into, and, simply, he was scared.
A/N: So, yeah. Another Rent fic. And it's a withdrawal fic, at that. Oh joy.
Mark didn't know what to do. He's never seen Roger like this.
He watched as his roommate clutched himself, shivering, kicking every now and then. He felt helpless, but he didn't want to get too close. Truth be told, Mark was afraid of Roger. He knew he shouldn't be, but he was. The way Roger groaned in pain, the way he just clung to himself, the constant shakes that seized his entire body, was simply a scary sight.
Mark glanced at the door. It was locked, for once in his time there. The windows were also shut and locked. Sharp objects were either hidden or removed from the loft. It didn't feel right. Mark felt like he was in a prison cell, locked away from the world with a very dangerous criminal.
And Mark knew he shouldn't feel like that.
But he did.
Roger cried out in pain, and Mark watched with semi-wide eyes. Where was Collins? Why did he leave him there with Roger? He didn't want to be there.
A pang of guilt shot through Mark, and he tried to squash it.
“Mark, he needs professional help.” Collins tried to reason with him.
“Collins, he doesn't want to go. He wants to stay here.” Mark stated defiantly.
“Fine, but you'll have to watch him, make sure he doesn't hurt himself. I can only be here for a few more days, and I'll try to come back whenever I have time. Mark, just be careful.”
“Don't worry. I can handle it.”
What was he thinking, trying to help Roger by himself? Why didn't he just send Roger to a clinic? Why on Earth would Mark listen to his best friend's plea of keeping him here? It was stupid.
“Mark...” Mark winced as he heard Roger pitifully call his name. He eyed Roger warily. Just ignore him. He doesn't need to know you're here. “Mark...?” He'll forget about you when the next wave of shakes hits him. Just be quiet, and he'll never know you're here. “Mark...!”
“I'm here.” Mark found himself saying, mentally cursing himself. He watched as Roger peered over to his voice, his eyes tired and dull. Mark shivered.
“Mark.” Roger said again, and Mark wanted to scream at him to stop saying his name. He didn't want to be there with some junkie going into the first stages of withdrawal. Mark froze, not because what he thought was awful but because Roger was making his way to him.
Mark watched as his roommate got up from the floor with painstaking slowness, rose to stand on shaky legs, and staggered toward Mark. All the while, Mark felt as if he was being stalked by a predator. Roger finally reached him, standing in front of Mark with his arms crossed. The way he looked at Mark made him scared.
“Mark... It hurts.” Roger stated helplessly. Mark didn't know what to do. Roger started shaking a bit more and reached out to grab Mark's shoulder. “God, Mark, help me.” Roger pleaded.
Mark tried not to panic as Roger gripped his shoulder harder. “Roger, shh, calm down.” What the hell am I doing? Mark hesitantly pulled him into a hug, slightly rocking him back and forth like a child. “You can do this, Roger.” You can't do this, Mark.
Roger mumbled something, but Mark couldn't make it out, not really wanting to know. He was wishing he was somewhere else when he felt Roger move against him, almost grinding. What the hell? He pulled away a little but stopped when Roger whined and gripped his shoulder harder. “Mark...”
“Roger, what are you doing?” Mark asked nervously, feeling a hand travel down to their crotch. “Roger!” Mark yelped when Roger pressed his semi-hard erection against Mark's thigh.
“Please, Mark,” Roger begged softly. “Please, Mark, help me,” Roger pressed into Mark again, letting Mark feel his erection, feel his need. Mark didn't know what to do. He felt Roger's lips press against his neck, his hands raking through Mark's hair. “Stop the pain.” Roger voiced pathetically.
Then something broke.
Mark backed Roger against a wall, maybe a little too roughly, but Roger didn't complain. Mark still couldn't believe he was even considering this, but the look in Roger's eyes drove away all thought. His emerald eyes were gleaming with hunger and need, except this time it wasn't for a hit. It was for him.
Roger was already slightly panting, his frame shaking as Mark's hand traveled to the waistband of Roger's pants. Mark hesitated, his hands trembling. Roger whimpered, and his hands gripped Mark's shoulders tightly, desperately.
Mark tried to remember when he felt someone cling to him like this, full of want and in need of contact. He could only remember this feeling back when Maureen first started dating him. God, has it been that long? Mark looked at Roger, his face flushed and his mouth parted slightly. Mark almost felt himself attracted to his roommate. Almost.
Mark slid his thigh against Roger's groin, eliciting a ragged moan from the musician. “God, Mark,” Roger rasped out, his fingers clinging to Mark's shoulders, his back arching off the wall. Mark licked his lips. This is getting dangerous. “Mark,” Roger moaned as he pressed back into Mark's thigh, pleading still.
Mark grasped Roger's hard length, earning a cry of surprise and pleasure from Roger. Mark started rubbing Roger's cock through the material of his pants, unsure if he should actually touch him there. After all, there was a line that shouldn't be crossed, right? Roger groaned and thrust his hips, whimpering. Okay then, screw the line.
Mark took a deep breath and let his hand travel beneath the waistband, feeling the heat of Roger's body. Roger shuddered as Mark's fingers encircled him, and he bit his lip. Mark watched as Roger looked at him, his green eyes clouded in lust and need, begging Mark to never stop.
Mark gulped. This is fucking dangerous.
He began to move his hand, making Roger hitch his breath. Mark had no idea what he was doing, but, whatever it was, Roger couldn't get enough of it.
Roger moaned, his back arching off the wall, as Mark's decidedly skillful hand stroked his cock. His other hand traveled to capture Roger's wrists above his head because Mark didn't like the way the guitarist was gripping at his shirt. Roger panted, biting his lip again as Mark's hands held his body captive.
Mark thought he was crazy. Actually, he knew he was crazy. How else could he describe the reason he was kind of enjoying the fact that he held such power over his roommate? He could stop his movements for mere seconds, and Roger would whimper helplessly for him to continue. Mark could nip at his neck, and Roger would shudder in a very satisfying way.
But then he realized what he was doing – almost getting off on how in control he was – and tried to stop. Honest, he did. As he pulled away from his best friend, however, Roger used his now free hands to caress Mark's cheeks, bringing their faces together. Mark's eyes widened as he felt Roger press his lips against his.
And he was back where he started, pushing Roger against the wall, his hand working his cock, Roger moaning for more.
And finally, it was too much for Roger.
Roger's arms encircled Mark's shoulders tightly as the musician pressed himself against Mark, groaning as he came, his whole body shuddering. Mark watched in mild fascination as Roger breathed slowly, trying to steady himself as he brought his head from the crook in Mark's neck to rest his forehead on Mark's.
Oh. My. God. You just gave your ex-heroin addict best friend a hand job! Mark mentally groaned, pulling away from Roger slowly, almost afraid. Roger teetered dangerously from the loss of support, but Mark didn't care to look to see if he fell or not; he was too busying closing his eyes, trying to convince himself what just happened was all a dream.
He snapped out of it when he felt Roger leaning against him, almost as if he were falling. “Roger?” Mark called timidly as he wrapped his arms around the musician, trying to steady them both and keep them from falling.
“So tired...” Roger mumbled as he rested his head against Mark's shoulder. “Mark...” And before they knew it, Roger had fallen asleep right there on his feet in Mark's arms.
Mark just kind of stood there holding his roommate until his knees started to give out. He slowly maneuvered them so that Mark was sitting on the floor with his legs out in front of him, Roger curled beside him with his head resting in his lap.
As he sat there, a hand laid atop Roger's head, Mark found his situation incredulous. He would have never have thought he'd be in the position that he's in now. He wouldn't have figured that his best friend would have become a fucking junkie, and that Mark would have to take care of him like this.
Taking a deep breath, Mark hoped that Roger's withdrawal would end soon, and that they could go back to their normal life. Looking at Roger, remembering how he looked when Mark had him under his control, however, Mark knew that their normal life was a thing in the past.