Two Can Keep a Secret || Mark Tuan (Got7)

3

[ smut warning ]

The bass made your ears pound. You took another sip from your red cup and let a long, exasperated breath pass through your nose. To say you were bored would be a massive understatement.

Mark was in another room somewhere, blazing it up. Your best friend had yet to show up and you were suddenly reevaluating all of your priorities in life, courtesy of the alcohol.

The fall semester would start soon and you still had no earthly clue of what to major in. For the time being, you tried a different variation of courses, hoping one would tickle your fancy. Thus far, you skated through them all like a perpetually sleep-deprived zombie.

Mark appeared, quite literally in a cloud of smoke, and whispered, "Hey, sexy."

"Dance with me," you blurted, glancing past him at the horde of bodies grinding to the music.

Mark snorted. "I can't be caught dancing with my soon-to-be sister."

He had a point. Disgruntled, you chugged a mouthful of your drink and grumbled, "The stepsister you fuck on the regular?"

"On the down low," Mark reminded, almost inaudibly.

"Fine. Fuck off," you snapped, pushing his chest to get him out of your space. "I don't need you to have fun."

Mark cocked an eyebrow, amused by your tipsy rhetoric. "Oh, really?"

You bobbed your head. "Any one of these guys would be delighted to date me."

"All of these guys just wanna get in your pants," Mark deadpanned. There was an edge to his voice, sharp like a razor. Though he had no right to be, Mark was territorial of your body and he was not the least bit inclined to let another man try to pleasure you.

Scowling, you hissed, "You are a pain in my ass."

Mark crept closer and teased, "Just say the word and I'll fuck that hole, too."

"I hate you."

"Sure you do."

Of course you didn't, but you were still bored as hell and the banter with your almost stepbrother was the most entertainment you'd had at this damned party. Pay attention to me, was what you wanted to say. In the most childish, obnoxious way possible. Vodka was not your friend, you realized.

"Maybe I should play the field," you said, shrugging before coming in for the kill. "Since my regular dick appointment only dicks me down in our parents' house as some kind of twisted, spiteful..."

Mark put a hand over your mouth and warned, "Don't fucking try me."

You blinked in surprise.

Mark let his palm fall from your lips, the sight of them overwhelmingly inviting. Clearing his throat, Mark dismissed himself before he kissed you in front of everyone and murmured, "I'm gonna go find a drink."

"Yeah, you do that," you sneered, watching him go.

Despite how much you ran your mouth, you weren't an idiot. Neither was Mark. The two of you knew exactly how this game was played and you had unwittingly became professionals in the art of keeping such a deadly secret.

However, you weren't immune to alcohol's ability to remove all inhibitions.

Crossing the room, you approached the host of the bash and exclaimed, "Jackson, be a good wingman and point me in the direction of the boy with the biggest dick."

Jackson lifted a brow and retorted, "I'm right here, sunshine."

You rolled your eyes. "Don't tempt me."