Flicker // johnmark

five

Low and behold, Mark finds himself heading up the stairs of Johnny's apartment complex. It's muscle memory at this point, he concludes.

He tosses his used cigarette off the balcony, patiently waiting for the door to open.

Johnny greets him with a lopsided grin, and oh my fucking lord he's shirtless again.

Mark swallows, stepping into the apartment wordlessly. He pulls out another cigarette from his pocket and lights it, and numbness washes over him as he passes it to Johnny.

He has to admit, that argument hurt a little. Fuck, it actually kinda hurt like a bitch.

Mark's chest aches. A part of him wants to feel horrible for yelling at them. The other part tells him to numb it all out.

It's obvious which part he listens to.

Mark stays silent as they smoke. He doesn't even look at Johnny in the eyes, just focuses on the carpet they're sitting on or the plain walls.

The tv isn't on, so the only sound accompanying them is some pipes making noise through the walls of the apartment.

Mark's stuck in this endless cycle of feeling like shit or nothingness.

And what he chooses to feel more often is obvious (again). He has a cigarette addiction for a reason.

Sometimes he wonders what it's like to feel other things. Happiness, for example.
All that positive shit.

Guilt. Anger. Pain.

Those are the feelings Mark calls shitty. The ones he's constantly filled to the brim with, and he can't breathe.

But at the same time, he feels empty.

So empty.

But then Johnny exists.

He gives Mark a tiny bit of validation to latch onto. And Mark clings to it, feeds off of it as it's his lifeline.

The small, reasonable part of his brain tells him it's unhealthy. That Johnny's purpose really, is to keep him from ending it all.

And Mark hates how everything has gotten the best of him.

Johnny used to be just a smoke buddy. Just that, but now it's something Mark can't quite identify.

His hormones are going wild, probably. He's young, and he thinks Johnny's attractive as fuck, but also sorta of caring?

Mark was most likely delusional when he came up with that second part, but Johnny does ask him questions about how he's doing, and if he wants to eat and stuff.

Johnny isn't entirely bad for him.

"Do you feel better?"

The silence is broken when Johnny asks the question, and Mark knows he caught on. He's a fucking open book, so easy to read.

"No." he admits, tossing the cigarette butt somewhere. "Everything fucking sucks."

"Your roommates?"

Mark nods.

Johnny hums to acknowledge Mark's reply. He doesn't question him further about the topic.

Mark likes that.

"Well," Johnny purses his lips. "What can I do to make you feel better?"

The question catches Mark off guard. The first thing that comes to his mind is dirty, curse his fucking hormones.

"Uh," he bites his lip, hesitant. The words sit on the tip of his tongue, and he tries to swallow them down.

But his body betrays him.

"Fuck me."

It comes out quiet, but it seems like Johnny heard it clearly. He raises his eyebrows as they make eye contact.

Panic rushes into Mark, he's fucked up, just exposed himself, fuck, oh my god, he knows Johnny wouldn't do that, he doesn't like boys-

"Okay."

Johnny seems unfazed. There's a faint smile on his lips as he tilts his head, gaze darkening when their eyes lock again.

Holy shit, Mark thinks, licking his lips as Johnny grabs his hand, lifting him from the living room floor.

"Are you sure?" Johnny's leading him down the hallway.

Mark opens his mouth to reply, yet his voice gets caught in his throat. He still can't process that this is actually happening.

He only manages to reply with a choked "yes", before he's pushed against the back of the door. Johnny leans in, kissing Mark softly, and Mark hates how he melts at this.

Johnny's lips are soft against his chapped ones, and Mark's head is spinning. He loses track of his senses as his hands grip onto Johnny's soft hair.

The first kiss is experimental, getting the feel of each other's lips before it gets rough. Johnny's now biting onto Mark's lower lip, and Mark's mouth falls open with a whine as the other boy's tongue explores his mouth.

Soon they're on the bed, and Mark's hoodie is on the floor. Johnny's sucking on his very distinct collarbones, leaving red marks everywhere.

Mark leans back onto the pillow, a string of moans leaving his mouth as Johnny's hands pin his wrists over his head. He's imagined this more times than he can count, being trapped under Johnny with absolutely no control.

More clothing is discarded, meaning more needs have to be fulfilled. Mark's moaning shamelessly now, not giving a shit if the people next door can hear him through the thin walls.

Mark's in Johnny's lap, dick up his ass. It's almost overwhelming, he's not used to feeling this full.

"Johnny," he breathes out, the pace of his bouncing picking up. His whole frame is shaking, blunt nails digging into Johnny's shoulders. "I'm close."

Hot breath ghosts over his ear. "Come for me, whore."

That's right. Mark's a whore.

Johnny's whore.

Mark's sent into the best orgasm of his life.

—

*hides*