Archive of Our Own

“I think we should have sex with other people.”

The spoon froze in mid-air, halfway to Nicky's mouth, which was still hanging open.  He'd been about to put cereal in it, but now he was gaping in surprise.

Mark was looking sheepishly into his cornflakes.  Nicky closed his mouth.

“Um.”  He put the spoon down, saw blue eyes dart up earnestly from under lowered lashes.  “Um.”  It clattered into the bowl.  “That's unexpected.”

“Yeah.  Been thinking.”

“Apparently,” Nicky said numbly.  “Er...”  He wiped his mouth with his sleeve, swiping away the spot of milk on his chin.  Saw a pink tongue dart out to lick pursed lips.  Mark was watching him.  Careful, like he thought he'd just poked a bear and was waiting to see if it would explode towards him in a rage.  Nicky didn't know if that was a feeling he was prepared to have yet, wasn't sure what feelings he had at all, considering they were nine years into a perfectly good, monogamous relationship, and his partner had just said...

He swallowed.  Reached across the table.  Felt fingers curl into his.  Slightly calloused, soft hand that he'd been holding for most of his adult life.

“What exactly are you talking about?”

“I erm... I don't know.  Or, well, not having an open relationship, exactly.  I erm...”  He exhaled slowly.  If Nicky knew Mark he'd been brooding over this for a while, had lined up all the words in his head and promptly forgotten them the moment he actually had to explain himself.  Frustration warred on a creased brow.  “I love you.”

“I'd hope so,” Nicky joked weakly.  A smile fluttered at a tense mouth.  He wanted to lean in to kiss it, but the table was between them.  He squeezed Mark's hand instead, then let go.

“But, you know, we've been together for a long time, basically, and I thought...”  He hesitated.  “Well, I mean, maybe it'd be good for us, right?  Like, you've never slept with any other lads and erm...”

“This is for me?” Nicky replied, baffled.  “Because I don't mind that.”

“I know.  No.  I didn't say you did.  I just.”  Mark took a deep breath.  “I've just been thinking about it lately.  That maybe it'd be good for us or...”  Nicky stared at him, thoughts starting to trickle through.  This wasn't for him, was it?  This was...

“Who is he?”

“What?  No!” Mark protested.  “God no!  I haven't...”

“You want to, though.  There's someone you want to fuck, and you want my permission to do it.”

“No.  Nicky...”  Mark's hand grabbed his hard before Nicky could pull it away.  It felt uncomfortable in his grip, for the first time in nine years.  Pulling at him when all he wanted to do was yank away.  “It's not like that.  I promise it isn't.”  The other hand wrapped around Nicky's too, closing him in.  He felt suddenly claustrophobic.  Couldn't get enough air.  “No.  I'm sorry.  It really isn't like that.”

“What's it like, then?” Nicky looked at him warily.  Mark looked earnest enough.  Nicky had always been able to read him, always known when he was lying or telling the truth.  He hadn't known about this, though.  Now he wasn't sure.

“Don't worry about it.  We don't have to...”

“Oh no.  We're worrying about it now,” Nicky interrupted.  Mark was looking nervous, like he wanted to push it all back into the bottle.  It wasn't going to go back in, Nicky knew that.  It had grown to three times its size, tendrilling in all directions, was always going to be something Mark had said, even if they didn't follow through on it.  “You've been thinking about this, haven't you?  Apparently it's important to you.”  He spat the last couple of words, felt heat trickle up his neck and into his face.  Mark, for once, wasn't the one going red.  Looked almost pale while he stared down at his cornflakes.  “Fuck, Mark.  How long have you been thinking about this?”

“Not that long,” Mark mumbled.  “Just like... last couple of months.”

“Last couple...”  He trailed off, blinking hard.  Mark was chewing his lip.  “Jesus.”

“I didn't want to upset you.”

“Oh thanks.  Thanks for that.”  Nicky pushed himself to his feet.  “Fuck.”

“Nicky...”

He picked up his bowl, almost threw it into the sink.  Cereal and milk landed in the basin with a sodden splat, then began to clog the plughole.  Mark's chair scraped behind him.  A hand landed on his shoulder, squeezing gently.

“Nicky.”

“Don't,” Nicky breathed.  Mark swallowed too close to his ear.  Nicky wanted to be sick.

The hand let go.  Mark stepped away while Nicky stood there, watching the clogged mass start to trickle through the hole and down the drain.  He turned on the tap hard, watched it blast down, water half-filling the basin before it was finally clear enough to start emptying.  He turned it back off when it was done, could hear Mark breathing behind him, suddenly loud in the silent kitchen.

“I'm going to go for a walk.”  Hands clenched into fists, so hard he felt his nails bite into his palms.  “I'm just... I'm going to go for a walk because I don't know if I can be here right now.”

“I haven't done anything.  I promise I haven't...”

“I... don't know that I believe you.”  A sob welled up in his throat.  And why should he believe Mark?  Apparently he was better at keeping things secret than Nicky had ever realised.  “I don't...”

Mark didn't reply right away.  Maybe he knew there was nothing to say that could make Nicky feel better, not right now, with a red film of rage and hurt tightening under his skin and behind his eyes.

“Okay,” he said finally.  Nicky nodded at the empty sink.  “Okay.  Take your scarf then, if you're going to go.  It's cold outside.”

*

Nicky was glad he'd taken his scarf.  It was fucking freezing outside, the wind howling a gale through the curve of the gated community they'd been living in for the last six years.  He tugged it tighter around his face, felt the bottom almost strangle him; wanted to hate Mark for being right about bringing it but he was too cold to muster up the energy.

He was fuming.  Absolutely fuming in a way he hadn't in years.  Felt full up of anger, wanted to kick something over, shout at someone.  Stomp around and throw a tantrum until the world went back to doing what it was supposed to be doing instead of playing this ridiculous joke on him.

He walked faster.  No idea where he was going except he needed to move.  Restless energy.  He'd done this a lot when he'd been younger, just walked around, run sometimes, until he'd left behind the frustrations and worries that always seemed to follow him around.  They always caught up, in the end, but for a moment it had helped, had replaced the anger with exhaustion and purpose.

It was probably going to rain later.  It had been blustery and overcast the last few days, and the frosty ground had been dotted with puddles when he'd woken that morning.  Curled up in bed while Mark had hummed in the en suite shower.  He'd brushed his teeth while Mark had dried himself off, gotten a kiss on the neck and an offer of coffee.  Breakfast had been on the table when he'd come down.

It felt years ago.

He scrubbed a palm over his face, trying to think, then stuffed his hands back in his pockets when the cold bit at them.

They were domestic, like that.  Paddling through their lives snuggled up in the same rowboat, each pulling an oar in perfect unison.  It had never felt boring, or not enough.  It had just felt like... life.

Mark was right, he supposed.  He really hadn't slept with any other boys.  Hadn't felt the need to.  They'd been an old married couple right out of the gate.  Friendship slipping into something else until Nicky had been forced to appreciate that the feelings he'd spent too long fleeing from couldn't be outrun.  That it was easier to turn around and greet them with open arms.  Greet Mark.

Tears stung the back of his throat.  His hands clenched tighter inside his pockets.

Nicky hadn't known Mark was gay when they'd met – Mark had kept that one close to his chest – but it wasn't like with Nicky.  Hiding and running.  Mark knew what he was, had been happily being himself the way he did everything else.  Privately.  Not secretly, but just with the feeling that it really wasn't anyone else's business.

Nicky had kissed him first.  Mark hadn't let him stop.

Maybe he'd always felt a little inexperienced by comparison.  It wasn't that Mark was some great Don Juan, tarting himself around.  He'd had... lovers, if you wanted to call them that.  Boyfriends.  Nothing steady or permanent, but enough for Nicky to feel less like he was the older one and more like he was looking at Mark for what to do because he had no idea himself.

Wanting to strangle every boy Mark looked at and danced with and kissed. Stood in the corner and wishing he had the guts to put himself up for consideration.

Their first time had been nice.  It was always nice.  Nicky wished he could say it was explosive, or creative, or anything like that, but it wasn't.  Never had been.  Had always been comfortable, sweet.  Like love and touch and contentment.

Maybe that was the problem.  Maybe...

He swallowed hard.  Maybe this was him.  Maybe Mark had gotten bored.  Nicky did try, he supposed, but every time he attempted something a bit kinky or out of the box it always felt awkward and silly, and he had the feeling Mark was just indulging him, even though he didn't really want the slap and tickle nonsense anyway.  He just wanted Mark to be happy.

Mark wasn't happy.

He stopped.  Middle of the pathway, hand over his mouth, suddenly out of breath.  Felt tears spring to his eyes.  Probably made sense.  Mark was bored, was sick of trying to force something that wasn't there.  Not any more.  Maybe it never had been.

Nicky stuffed his hands back in his pockets and began to walk faster.

*

The house was warm when he stepped inside.  Quiet.  He hung his scarf on the hook near the door, ran his fingers through his hair to slick the misty raindrops that had started to fall when he'd been halfway home.  He'd not gone all that far, just wandered within a mile of the place, up and down and back and forth, crisscrossing roads until the neighbours had probably thought he'd lost something, or was casing their houses for a burglary.

Mark was sitting in an armchair in the study, curled up and reading a book.  Nicky hesitated in the doorway.

“Hey,” he said quietly.  Mark looked up.

“Hey.”  The book snapped shut, was put down on the table, beside a mug that was drifting steam.  “Good walk?”

“Mm.”  He studied his boyfriend.  Cheeks rosy in the warmth, blue eyes trying to be calm but swirling with worry.  Nicky took a deep breath.  “Sit with you?”

Mark moved aside.  It was a big armchair, this.  Falling apart a bit, a relic from Mark's old flat from the early days of the band.  It was lumpy, but comfortable, always had room for two.  An arm wrapped carefully around his waist when he sat down.  Nicky tried not to push it away.

“Coffee?”

“Hot chocolate.”  Mark handed him the mug.  “Here.  You look frozen.”

He sipped it gratefully.  It was warm, trickling down his throat and warming his belly, thawing the tears that had hardened in the cold.  He managed to will more of them back, wiped his mouth.  Handed the mug back.  Mark took a sip, watching him over the rim.

“You want to sleep with other people,” Nicky said finally.  His voice trembled at the end.  He swallowed.  Felt the hand on his arm squeeze gently.  “Why?”

“Nicky...”  Mark started.  Nicky silenced him with a look.  He didn't need the long explanation, nor the platitudes.  “Okay,” Mark started again.  “It isn't that I don't want you, or that I don't love you.”

“I don't want to hear why not,” Nicky interrupted.  “Give me bullet points.  Why.”  Mark blinked at him in surprise.  He supposed that had sounded harsh, or abrupt.  He didn't care.

“Point number one,” Mark said finally, then hesitated until Nicky nodded in approval.  “I think it could be good for us.  The last couple of years have been...”  Paused.  Nicky watched his brain tick for the right words.  “I don't know.  Not boring.  Just... sometimes it feels a bit like we're going through the motions, you know?  Treading water.  And I like doing that, but...”

“You want excitement?  Why don't you take up base-jumping or something?”

“Do you want to talk about this, or do you just want to argue?” Mark snapped.  Nicky stared in surprise.  Mark stared back, breathing fast against his side.  Then his features softened, mouth spilling from a tense scowl into a troubled frown.  Nicky expected him to say sorry.  He didn't.

“Go on,” Nicky said finally.  Mark nodded slowly.  “Is it me?” he said quietly.

“It's not.  No.  God no.”  Fingers stroked gently at his arm.  “It's both of us, maybe.  I'm not sure.”

“If there's something you want, you can just ask.  I'm always happy to...”

“It's not like that,” Mark said.  Nicky leaned into his shoulder, trying to absorb the warmth of him.  A kiss brushed his hair.  “We're compatible on a lot of stuff, but there's some things where we're just... not.  We aren't, because we're not those sorts of people, and there's a big difference between experimenting and forcing something.  I think we'd just be forcing it.”

“Is it because I don't bottom?"

"No. I mean, I used to like topping occasionally but…"

“Yeah.”  Nicky closed his eyes.  Tried to think.  He'd never liked that.  Had tried it once and loathed it immediately.  He'd allow a finger occasionally, though he suspected that was more because Mark wanted to and Nicky didn't want to disappoint him.  It all felt a bit futile when he didn't enjoy it that much.  “Okay,” he decided.  “Okay, you can fuck me.”

“Are you saying that because you want to, or because you think I'll leave you if you don't?”  Nicky couldn't reply.  The silence shifted, wrapped heavy around them.  Mark sighed.  “Yeah, I figured,” he muttered.  Nicky was angry, suddenly.

“What, so you don't want me, now?"

“No, but I'm not going to let you force something because you think it'll make me happy.”

“What, like fucking other people?” Nicky shot back.  Mark pulled away.

“Do you want to hear points two and three, or do you want to try to make me the bad guy?  Because I'm trying here.  I really am.  And you're just acting like a judgemental twat.”  Nicky scowled, hands tightening on his knees.  Wanted to wrap them around Mark's throat.  “This isn't an ultimatum, Nicky.  This is a fucking suggestion because I'm trying to put some fucking excitement and passion back into our relationship.  If you don't want to do it, fine.  I won't love you any less, and I won't leave you, but if you're going to act like my feelings are some sort of... of fucking inconvenience, or me trying to manipulate you, you can fuck right off.”

Nicky stared in shock.  Mark had crossed his arms, was glowering over them.  He hadn't seen Mark like this before.  Oh angry, sure.  In nine years they'd run the gamut of emotions together, had seen each other at their worst more than a few times, but this was different.  This was decisive, and demanding, and savage.

It was a little bit sexy.

Nicky cursed himself for thinking that.  It wasn't fair for Mark to make him think like that, not while he was busy being pissed off.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.  Mark was still glaring.  “I'm sorry, babe.”  He leaned forward, feeling like he was going to be sick.  Pulled in a breath.  Let it out slowly.  It was five mississippis later that a hand stroked carefully up his back.

“Point two,” Mark said softly.  Nicky nodded.  “Point two is that it might just be really sexy.  Seeing you dress up and go out on dates.  Like when we were first together and you'd spend ages picking an outfit, looking so nervous.  It was my favourite thing.”  A finger twirled through the hair at the back of his neck, making him shiver.

“So you take me out, then,” Nicky suggested.  “I'll get dressed up and you can find a nice restaurant...”

“And then we can come back home and watch telly and fart in front of each other and talk about the same things we've been talking about for nine years,” Mark finished.  “It's not the same.”

“You're saying the romance is gone?”

“No.  I'm saying it's a different sort of romance.  It's comfortable romance.”  When Nicky looked up Mark was smiling gently at him, eyes soft.  He found himself smiling back.  “I love having comfortable romance with you.”

“Me too.”  Nicky sat up, grudgingly, slung his legs over a solid lap.  Arms wrapped around his waist.  He pressed a chaste kiss to a soft mouth, his own arms drifting around strong shoulders.  Mark nuzzled their noses together.  He realised, suddenly, that Mark had said about Nicky going on dates, not himself.  He hadn't thought of it that way before, had just thought of it as a way for Mark to get his rocks off with some lad down the pub.  “You want me to go out with other people?”

“I trust you.”  The next kiss fluttered at the corner of his mouth.  Nicky shivered.  “Then you can come back here and tell me all about it.  Tell me what you did, who you did...”  He breathed against Nicky's skin.  Nicky stifled a moan.  “I see how many people flirt with you, you know.  And sometimes I think... well, what if I let you?  Let you have them until you came back to me.  Because you'd always come back to me.”

“Oh,” Nicky breathed.  “Possessive?”

“Little bit.”  It didn't quite make sense, except it did.  Belonging to Mark, enough to be trusted like that, knowing he'd always go back home.  Because Mark owned him.  “I'd come back to you.  Every time.”

“I know.”  

“Do you?”  Nicky did know, all of a sudden.  He'd been so sure Mark was pulling away, but this wasn't that.  This was like letting loose a kite, to tug at the string until it was time to be reeled back in.

“Yeah.”  He bit his lip, tried to think.  “Is there a point three?”

“Maybe, but I haven't thought of it yet,” Mark chuckled, low and hoarse.  Nicky felt himself react, sway into his touch.  “I'd never cheat on you, Nico.  If you said no, I'd be fine.  This is more important.  It's always more important.”  Palm, flattening on Nicky's chest, over his hammering heart.  “This is home.”

Nicky smiled.  Helplessly.  Soft lips pecked the end of his nose, the other hand cupping to his cheek.  Felt a trickle of warmth that wasn't the hot chocolate, that spread from the fingers rested against him, a brand through his shirt.

“It is, yeah,” he murmured, saw the relief in Mark's eyes.  “I need to think.”

“Go for it.  We're not on a time limit,” Mark pointed out.  Nicky nodded.  He supposed they weren't.  It was just a thing.  An idea to float, like whether it was time to cut his hair or if they should get the kitchen redone this year or leave it and do the bathroom first.  He kissed Mark's thumb as it went past in a slow caress.  “You erm... want to go upstairs while you do that, though?  Because...”

“You drop a bombshell like this and now you want to get handsy?” Nicky teased.  “Fucking hell, you complete tart.”  He wriggled.  Saw Mark smirk.  “Can we have it slow for a bit?  I know we were just talking about being boring, but...”

“Slow's not boring.  Slow's perfect.”  The hand on his heart slid around, pulled him into an embrace.  Nicky went.  Mark was breathing against him.  Slow and comforting.  He closed his eyes and tried to breathe in the smell.  That warm, musky scent that never changed.  “I do.  Love you.”

“I know.”  Nicky held him tightly.  Felt kisses press to his neck, sucking him in.

*

“And back two three four and left two slide and...”

Nicky stepped through, trying to keep the beat.  Shane was moving, feet falling through the steps.  Kian was leaned against the dressing room wall opposite, inhaling a Red Bull.  Mark was beside him with his eyes closed, smiling benignly at the ceiling.

“Not going to practice?” Shane asked

“Don't need it, already perfect,” Mark yawned.  Kian smirked next to him.  “Might bog off early lads.  You can do this with three?”

“Dibs on Mark's solos,” Nicky announced.  Kian laughed.  “Come on.  I could do it.”

“Sure you could,” Shane chuckled.  They hit the last move with a flourish.  Nicky dropped into a bow, heard Mark snort.  He looked up.

“Impressed?”

“Always.  Come here.”  Nicky sidled in.  Mark's arms were strong.  Encompassing.  A bit stiff under the black jacket zipped all the way to his chin.  Nicky sank into him, ignoring the snorts and eye-rolls of the other two lads.  Soft lips kissed his hair.  “You can't have my solos.”

“Why not?”

“Because I'm using them,” Mark laughed.  “Let's go out after, yeah?  Just the two of us.”

“Okay.”  Nicky wriggled happily.  Normally he'd feel bad about not asking the other lads along, but he knew Kian was getting up early to check out the New Zealand surfing scene and Shane had a touch of a cold, was already planning on packing it in.  “Date?”

“I was thinking more finding a good bar and getting trashed until four.”

“That sounds good too.”  He nuzzled Mark's chin.  “Dress nice, or I'll be forced to check out other lads.”  He saw Mark smirk disbelievingly.

It had been a couple of months since they'd had that strange discussion about sleeping with other people, and it hadn't really come up again.  Nicky had said he'd needed to think, Mark had backed off, and things had more or less progressed as normal.

He still didn't know.

In theory it sounded hot.  Not fucking other people, but Mark, thinking about him doing that.  The obvious desire in darkening eyes when he'd talked about it.  He wasn't sure how he felt about Mark doing the same, whether he could stand the idea of someone else's hands on his partner, but there was something in it, definitely, even if it just stayed a guilty fantasy.

He looked up at the sound of his name.  Mark was letting go.

“What?”

“We're going.  Wake up.”

“Sorry.”  He fell into step.  Mark smiled at him.  “Hey... I love you.”

“Love you too.”  A hand squeezed his.  Nicky didn't let it go.

*

Nicky was never quite sure how he felt about gay bars.

They were fine, he supposed, but he'd never really sought them out.  They were for single people, probably.  Always felt a bit complicated.  Good music, he'd give them that, but he was happy so long as he had Mark, a drink, and somewhere to dance.

Tonight he had all three.

“You look really sexy,” Mark said against his ear.  Too loud.  Nicky grinned back.  The bass was pumping, the floor far too crowded.  A lot of these lads had their shirts off.  He took a sip of his drink as hands closed on his hips, felt lips travel up his throat.  Mark was a few in, always got gropy around drink number four, and it appeared he was right on schedule.  Nicky tipped his head back to allow more room for the open-mouthed kisses trailing up his neck.

A lad bumped into them, dislodging Mark with a squawk when Nicky's drink spilled onto the sleeve of his shirt.

“Whoops,” Nicky laughed.  Mark was wiping it off.  White fabric, starting to get stained with whatever blue mess was in this cocktail.  “Sorry, babe, I liked that shirt.”

“Me too.”  He was starting to pout.  Nicky sighed.

“Here, give me that.”  He took Mark's drink.  “Go rinse it before the colour sets.  Maybe it'll lift out.”  Mark stumbled away dutifully, leaving Nicky smiling.  He took a sip of Mark's drink.  It wasn't as good as his own.  Took another sip as a tax for holding it.

“I'd ask to buy you a drink, but...”  He turned when he heard a voice behind him.  Cute boy, maybe five years his junior.  Nicky winked back.  It was nice, being in New Zealand.  They were popular, but not recognisably famous, not like at home.  Nicky was sure, in a moment, that this lad had no idea who he was.

“Holding one for someone,” Nicky chuckled.  “Thanks though.”

“Hands too full for a dance then?”

“Oh, I'm...”  He hesitated.  It was just a dance, he supposed, and wasn't that what Mark had said?  About letting him flirt?  Maybe it'd be a little bit naughty, dancing with this boy, having Mark come out of the bathroom and seeing him there, pressed against a stranger.

There was a thrill up his spine he hadn't expected.

“I'd love to,” he decided.  The drinks went on the closest table.  They were both almost empty, and he could always get another one.  “I like this song.”  He had no idea what it was, but it seemed the right thing to say.

“Me too.”  He was drawn in close.  Not touching, but his hips found the beat and he could smell sweat, feel hot skin radiating a hair's-breath away.

He hadn't really done this before.  They'd been so young when they'd gotten together, already deep into work and responsibility.  He'd never had to flirt with Mark, never tried to seduce him.  Effortless.  Lips tickled at his ear as the lad moved in.

“I love your accent.”

“Cheers,” he chuckled.  “Me mam gave it to me.”

“It's really sexy.”  A hand rested on his side, teasing stroke that thumbed over his bottom rib.  Nicky felt himself lean into it.  Closed his eyes.  It was exciting.  Being wanted.  Not by fans, but just... wanted.  Desired like that, by a very sexy boy who could probably do better, could probably have anyone.  Had chosen to dance with Nicky.

He opened his eyes, saw parted lips.  Wanted to.  Didn't.  Not that far.  Just a dance, nothing else.  He was Mark's.  Of course he was Mark's.

The bathroom door swung open.  He saw Mark scan the crowd, shielding his eyes against the lights.  Saw them fix on him.  Widen.

Saw a tongue dart out to wet full lips.

Mark raised an eyebrow.  Nicky raised one back.  He felt brave, suddenly.  Stupid and drunk and reckless, maybe, but brave.  This was Mark's game?  Fine, he'd play it.  Show him what he was asking for, see whether he really wanted it.

Nicky bent in, breathing at his dance-partner's neck.  He smelled different.  Not like Mark.  Strange and spicy, heady.  Cologne and sweat and sunscreen that hadn't quite washed off.  A hand wrapped around Nicky's wrist.

“Help you?” he said.  Mark was glaring.  He didn't look angry.  Studying, maybe.  Demanding.

“A word?”

“Sorry,” Nicky said to his bemused dance partner.  “Busted, apparently.”  He tipped a wink, saw Mark's eyes narrow, then turn away, navigating them through the crowd.  They banged out a side-door, the cold air slapping him hard in the cheeks.

Mark pinned him to the wall.  Into a kiss.

It was savage.  He felt teeth graze his lip and wasn't sure if the skin had broken.  Stinging, biting.  Hands yanking his arse forward, grinding them together while Mark devoured him, tongue shoving Nicky's out of the way and delving into his mouth, licking him from the inside.

“Fuck,” Nicky gasped.  He didn't have time to say much more.  A forearm forced against his chest, along the line of his collarbones, slamming him back against the wall, his lungs emptying in a startled gasp.

“Mine,” Mark growled.

His head collided with the wall, pushed back by a hungry mouth.  He almost couldn't breathe, arm just below his throat, sliding up until a hand gripped his chin, holding him in.  Bricks were scraping his back through his shirt.  An alleyway or something.  When he opened his eyes it was just enough to see a fire-extinguisher bolted to the wall.  A hand groped up his thigh, closed over the front of his trousers.

“Yours?” Nicky managed, between kisses.  Mark growled again.  “Prove it.”

Clink of a belt.  His own.  Too hot in the cold air.  Hand sliding in and grabbing, curling around his balls.  Too hard.  He gasped a cry.  Felt the grip relent, slide up to caress him, then start a brutal rhythm, too dry, too hot.  Gulped into Mark's mouth, eyes opening to lock with a stormy glare, darkened with want.  He hitched a leg up.  Felt Mark press in.

“Tell me.”

“Yours,” Nicky gasped.  Hitched up, pinned against the wall, barely on his tiptoes.  Mark's hand moved faster.  “Oh Jesus, yours.”

“Who was that?”

“N-nobody... ah...”  Lifted a leg to trap Mark's waist.  Barely tethered to the ground.  Wobbling on pointed toes, pinned by the weight of flesh and muscle and sweat.  Teeth bit the underside of his jaw.  A mark, he realised.  He felt his knees weaken.  “Not you.”

The grunt of approval raked down his spine, leaving him crying out, trying to rut in, not sure how private this was but not fucking caring, not when Mark was...

His other foot left the ground.  Both legs around Mark's waist, both arms around his shoulders.  No purchase.  Strong hand still moving fast between them, other one caught under his arse, shoved down the back of his unbuckled jeans.

“Nicky,” Mark muttered.  “Fuck, Nicky...”  He shuddered, cried out into Nicky's throat, and oh, fuck, Mark was coming in his pants like a teenager, slick through the fabric.  Hand too tight on Nicky's arse, other one moving faster, goading, almost a challenge.  Nicky clawed at his back, tried to breathe.

“Whose?” Nicky urged.  Mark whimpered.

“You.”  He was trembling.  Coming down, still trying to keep going, to get Nicky there too.  Nicky kissed him hard.  “Ah fuck... Nicky.”  The kiss was all breath, no finesse.  Nicky devoured it anyway.  “Yours.”

“Mine,” Nicky agreed, the match-struck tremor of his orgasm prickling up through his toes, intensifying, pulled into a knot by the tug of Mark's hand.

He tipped his head back and came with a shout.  Felt Mark make a broken noise of approval against him.

*

“You okay?”

“Brilliant,” Nicky purred.  Fingers walked up his chest, began to trace around a nipple.  “Mmm... hello.”

“Hey.”  Sleepy half-lidded smile, bed-hair a disaster on the pillow.  Mark, beautiful in the late-morning light.  “Knew I was going to have to write off my shirt, but I think the whole outfit might be a lost cause.”

“I'm sure we can soak the stains out,” Nicky promised.  A swollen kiss sucked at his shoulder.  “That was amazing.”

“Pretty great.”  They'd left the club right after that scene in the alleyway, had squelched awkwardly into a taxi, jackets draped over their laps.  Their clothes were still in the corner in a messy pile, kicked there when Nicky had stripped them both and just about thrown Mark to the bed.  He felt sore.  Was sure Mark felt sorer, after the way Nicky had spread him open and slammed into him, relishing the shattered cries as he got closer, trembling under Nicky's touch.

They stayed in bed most of the day, only getting up so Nicky could toss on a robe and retrieve their room-service.  They ate it on the bed, chatting and snogging occasionally, and by the time they finally tipped themselves into the shower late that afternoon Nicky felt sated in a way he hadn't in a long time.

The gig was electric. The next morning they were back on a plane to the UK, snuggled up in a first-class seat together, Nicky dozing against Mark's shoulder

*

It was fun, this game.  They did it a few times over the next couple of weeks.  It was almost impossible in the UK, where people might recognise them, but being on tour was a small blessing, going to places that didn't know them as well, taking an acceptable risk.  That was exciting, as well, knowing you could be seen, knowing you weren't doing anything wrong, no matter what it looked like.

“He's looking at you,” Mark murmured.  Nicky looked up, saw a lad near the bar giving him the eye.  It was a nice feeling.  He hadn't allowed himself it before, hadn't thought to look. He was Mark's.  It hadn't really occurred to him to see if other people had noticed him.

A bit arrogant, maybe, but as far as self-esteem went it didn't hurt.

He sidled through the crowd.  Cute South African boy.  Nicky leaned in, asked for a dance, and a moment later was being led onto the floor, a warm hand in his.

He let himself melt into it for a while.  The beat was slow, a hard rhythm that tilted through his body.  He didn't realise he'd closed his eyes, but when he opened them Mark was talking to someone, laughing when a man a little older than him touched his shoulder, obviously putting on the flirt.

Nicky smiled.  It was sweet.  Mark looked almost surprised, blushing and looking up from under lowered lashes, biting his lip.  They started to move.  Across the dancefloor.  Nicky caught his eye, saw a wink and a grin, and had to smile back.  He looked beautiful, like he had when the two of them had first gotten together.  It had been slow, then, feeling each other out, surreptitious touches, those hungry looks burning under Nicky's skin, wanting to be near Mark all the time and stumbling over the words, Mark's eyes lighting up when he realised what Nicky was trying to say.

But fuck, that first time.  Snogging desperately on a bed in a hotel room, Nicky's hands fumbling, Mark's more sure.  Wanting to touch everything.  Letting Mark stroke him slowly, edge his clothes off.  Until Nicky had stopped shaking.

Flutter of arousal.  Dark eyes, looking up at him over a broad shoulder.

His hips canted in without him meaning to, and he moaned softly when he felt them grind against the boy in front of him.  Wasn't sure what more he wanted to do, except Mark was licking his lips slowly, seemed barely to notice the man he was dancing with.  Nicky realised he hadn't looked at his own dance-partner in an age.  Didn't care.  Hands were on his hips, stroking up his sides.  One curved around to cup over his arse and he allowed it, arched his hips in again.  Felt good, being touched.  A thrill in it.  Mark's hands were perfect, steady and warm, but he knew them.  Knew their pressure and rhythm.

Time seemed to stand still.  Eyes locked, Nicky shivering slightly every time the hand on his arse palmed over him, every time he saw Mark lean closer into the other man.  The song ended.  Another one started.  Nicky felt lips brush up his neck and gasped, tilting to give him more space.  Mark licked his lips.

“You want to get out of here?” his dance-partner murmured.  Nicky shook his head.

“No.  Not yet,” he amended, unable to believe he was considering this.  Definitely wasn't going anywhere right now, not when Mark was watching him so intently.  It felt like dancing with Mark, once removed.  Eyes locked and heat spiralling between them.

He saw a hand grope down, grab at Mark's arse.  Felt a reddened spike of jealousy curve up his spine.  Felt a hand squeeze on his own arse and saw blue eyes darken, red lips get wetter as a tongue licked over them.  Saw Mark sigh and his head tilt back to allow a kiss to shiver up his neck.

“Sure you don't want to get out of here?” It teased in his ear.  Nicky realised he was hard, grinding against the thigh that had insinuated itself between his legs.  He closed his eyes, tried to get himself under control.

When he opened them again Mark was gone.

His mind stuttered in surprise.  Eyes darted, looking.  Maybe he'd just lost him in the lights, in the darkness.

Maybe...

He saw a sliver of white light, saw a Mark-shape disappear into it before the door closed again.

“Sorry, I...”  He pushed away without further explanation.  Heard the lad make a soft noise of confusion.  The toilets felt an age away.  He wasn't sure what he was doing, thought he was going to do, except Mark was over there and...

It was bright when he pushed inside.

“Mark?”  He couldn't see him.  People were definitely fucking in the toilets, though.  He could hear grunts, soft moans.  The urinals were all taken, and a few eyes darted up in mild interest while he called out his partner's name, stomach clenching.  “Mark?”

A stall door opened.  Mark pushed back out.  Nicky swallowed hard.

“Hey.”  He looked up in surprise, then hesitated, eyes studying Nicky's face.  “You okay?  You look pale.”

“I...”  Nicky glanced behind him, but the door had shut again.  “Where...?”

“Just needed the loo.”  He chuckled gently.  “Too much soda with my vodkas, apparently.  Probably a mistake.  Now I've broken the seal.”  His smile was slightly drunk.  Nicky didn't know what to say, just knew he couldn't get anything out past the sudden lump in his throat.  He managed a choked laugh.  Mark's face fell. “What's wrong?”

Someone bumped into him.  He realised he was still stood in the doorway, and moved.  Someone else was impatiently sidling past Mark into the stall he'd just left.  The door of the one down the end banged suddenly loudly to the tune of a delighted squeal.

Nicky giggled.

He let out a breath as strong arms wrapped around him.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.  This was better.  Warm and soft and Mark's scent, a kiss brushing his forehead.

“For what?”

Nicky shook his head, snuggling himself tighter into Mark's embrace.

*

It was good to be back home.  Hotels were fancy, but there was nothing like their own bed, their pillows and sheets and the smell and feel of it.  He fell into it with a grunt, heard the springs squeak and a fond laugh behind him.

“I see.”

“Mm... bed,” Nicky sighed.  He could hear Mark shifting behind him, and when he opened his eyes and glanced around his partner was tidying their suitcases into the corner, to be emptied out and laundry done when one of them could be bothered.

“What do you want to do about dinner?”

“Don't care.  Bed.”  He closed his eyes again, heard a bit more shuffling, and then the mattress dipped.  Mark's weight flopped down along his back.  He gasped as all the air was pushed out of him.  Laughed breathlessly when a nose snuffled into his nape.

“Mm.”

“Mm,” Nicky agreed.  Draped in warm, snuggly boy, their clothes catching a bit on each other, Nicky giggling when a hand dug underneath his stomach, tickling, then rested there, wedged under his shirt.  The other one curled into his, tucked under Nicky's cheek.  He yawned.  Felt Mark smile against his skin.  “Nap.”

“Want to get under the blankets?”

“Got one.”  He squeezed Mark's hand in emphasis.  The content hum in his ear spread through him like butter, until he was all but melted into the covers.  He yawned again, laughed through it when Mark took the opportunity to kiss awkwardly all around his open mouth, waiting until he was done before planting a firm smack on his lips.  Nicky returned it.

“Love you.”

“Yeah,” Nicky murmured.  Fingers dug gently into his stomach.  “We're happy, right?”

“I think so.  I am, anyway.”  Mark gave him a baffled smile.  “Why?”

“Just checking.”  He exhaled slowly, felt Mark sink with him.  He was nodding off, a little dozy in the warm bed.  They shifted, Mark wrapping around him until they were spooned together, Mark breathing steadily against his shoulder.  Their hands knotted at Nicky's front.  He smiled when he heard the breaths turn into a gentle snore.

He slept for a little while himself.  Woke to find himself alone, the sheets still warm.  Padded sleepily downstairs.  Mark was in the big armchair watching TV, the open window behind him.  It had just gone dark, the faintest ring of golden sky still visible along the edges of the night, creeping away over the horizon.

“Morning.”

“Evening,” Nicky replied.  Mark pulled him into the chair.  “Jetlag's messing me up.”

“We'll have breakfast at midnight until we get used to it.”  A kiss brushed his cheek.  “Two weeks off.”  Nicky nuzzled his shoulder happily.  He'd definitely been looking forward to it.  “We can watch TV, sleep in late...”

“Mm, sounds amazing.”  Nicky yawned.  Mark kissed his cheek again.  There was some rot on the television.  Nicky grabbed the remote, started flicking through channels.  Mark snorted.

“That's fine, I wasn't watching it.”  Nicky rolled his eyes.  “Or you can pick, I guess.”

“Cheers.”  He heard Mark laugh.  “Nothing on.  DVD?”

“Sure.”  Neither of them moved.  “Off you go.”

“Why me?”

“I'm not getting up.”

“This is fine, then.”  Nicky settled back on what Mark had already been watching, smirked when he saw his boyfriend struggle not to comment.

They fell asleep again in the chair, sometime later.  Woke up early in the morning, Nicky cuddled to Mark's chest, a bad crick in his neck and his arm full of pins and needles.  He needed to go to the bathroom badly.  When he staggered back in, Mark had stirred, was sitting up in the chair, looking in confusion around the dim room.

“Coming upstairs?”

“Yeah,” Mark mumbled.  He fell into bed seconds after Nicky did.  Wrapped around him.  Nicky wriggled sleepily when he felt hardness against him, probably just left over from sleep, but nice nonetheless.  He wriggled again, heard a soft grunt against his ear.

“Help you?” Mark chuckled.  Nicky smirked.

“Was about to ask you the same.”  He pushed back again, meaningfully, until a hand began to palm reverently down his flank, hip to thigh and back up.  A sleepy stroke while Mark began to find the other side of the rhythm.  Slow sway building into a careful rub.  He had a feeling Mark's eyes were still closed.  His own were too.  It didn't matter.

“Feel good,” Mark breathed.  The hand on his side shifted its path, slipped up under his shirt, over his stomach.  Didn't falter.  That same slow stroke, misdirecting goosebumps as it went, dragging a rippling heat that made his boxers tighten.  Not urgent, just a comforting inevitability that had nothing to do with getting off and everything to do with this, the promise of touch, of being held and breathed in, kisses clinging messily to his nape and the hand making long, absent loops over every bit of skin it could reach, the other arm caught under Nicky's neck.

His hand found it, blindly, caught a grip that squeezed back.  The other hand was still moving.  Up the back of his thigh, skating the dip of his lower back.  Tracing the edge of his shoulder blade and back down, pressing harder until Nicky felt his own flesh tug in its direction, dragged, Mark's mouth following it just long enough to make him whimper, the spread of wet lips picking a teasing path down the top few vertabrae while a stiffening bulge ground more insistently again the curve of his thigh and arse.

“Mark,” Nicky choked.  Ran a hand over himself in a slow knead, just to ease the pressure a bit.  The hand skimmed past, down the inside of his thigh and back up, a tease that made him jerk and moan when it thumbed up the cord of muscle hiding beneath the rucked up leg of his boxer shorts.

“Fuck.”  It was a mutter, in between quickening breaths.  Nicky giggled, surprised, when his boxers were yanked suddenly down, only a few inches with the waistband caught under his hip, but enough for Mark to slip a hand in.  Down the curve of his arse, fingers spreading, then tightening, almost possessive, large hand grabbing almost all of him in it's grip.

It let go.  Spread again.  A dragging, possessive grope while Nicky touched himself through his boxers, brought close by the soft panting in his ear.  Felt the touch switch to one cheek and separate him, Mark's cock pushing into the space a moment later, fucking into his crack.  Nicky groaned.  Maybe he didn't want it going in but this was different, a possessive, moaning fuck, Mark's hand still on his arse, forehead on Nicky's nape.  Nicky realised he was watching.  Watching himself move in and out.

The hand in his squeezed hard.  He squeezed back, a sudden flurry of nervous prickling making him twist, thighs bunching up and opening him up further, soles of his feet groping backwards to rest on Mark's knees until Mark moved too.  Curled around him.  Pressed together and Mark still breathing down the back of his neck.

He twisted again.  Caught Mark's mouth, awkward over his shoulder, lips sliding sideways when it broke.  Saw dark eyes that held him for half a moment before they lost each other.

“Love your arse.”  Hoarse against his ear.  Teeth dug into his shoulder before releasing, a tongue soothing the bite.  “Could fuck it forever.  Jesus...”  He broke into a shudder, hips giving a relentless jolt that warned the edge.  “God, do you...?”  The hand on his arse slid to his front, pulled him in tighter.  Mark, trapped between his cheeks, moving close so as not to slip out.  “God.”

“You like that?”  Nicky urged.  Mark felt hot.  Sweat clinging through their clothes and heat radiating between them. The moan that climbed his neck was answer enough.  “What do you want?”

“Want to fuck you.”  Mark's arm tightened again around his waist, braced them closer together.  “God, want...”  He shivered suddenly, and Nicky felt him twitch in time with the soft cry nuzzling into his ear.  “Nicky.”  The hand in Nicky's came down, still holding his, and then Mark was wrapped around him, completely, arms holding him in and legs curving to his arse and mouth scraping down his neck.  Completely encompassed, unable to move except for his right hand, still palming over himself but upping the pressure, sure Mark was close.

“Don't stop.”  He leaned his head back against Mark shoulder, felt him shiver again.  “Don't.”  Soft, gulping gasps in his ear.  “Baby.”

It began as a slow rumble in Mark's throat, escalated to a growl.  Then the seize of him, a sudden hard stiffen, the arm on Nicky's waist tight and his hand squeezed almost painfully, then...

He lost breath at the yank of Mark tightening around him.  A sudden singularity of Mark drawing in on himself, dragging Nicky with him.  Curled into a ball and his lungs forced by the arm across his ribs.  Didn't need it.  Not when Mark was making a low, desperate groan in his ear, while his arse and thighs were flooding with spurts of cum, marking him, teeth in his shoulder and rumbled breaths blasting over him, the hand in his pulling them even closer together.

“Mmnn...”  Possessive grunts as he finished, croaking every breath.  Nicky whimpered when he finally could, felt the arm on his ribs loosen and rolled himself over to drag Mark into a kiss.  A thigh slipped between his, unspoken, as though Mark knew he needed it.  Something to push against, Mark's arms back around him and the trickle of slick cooling absently and making him shiver.

“Please,” Nicky gasped.  Mark was still growling into every kiss, holding him in tighter.  Smelled amazing.  Like heat and cum and want.  “Baby.”  A hand wrapped around him, began a trembling stroke while Mark nuzzled into him.  “Baby.  Uh.”

A thumb flicked over the head, the rest of the grip a hard knead.  He clung.  Fingers yanking tight into soft hair sticky with the sweat of sleep and sex.  Rolled so he was on top, grinding himself into Mark's thigh, Mark's hand.  His own hair in his eyes and Mark staring up, eyes dark and mouth parted until Nicky sealed it closed with a hard, sloppy, desperate kiss.

He came growling.  Mark's teeth in his bottom lip and a hand making obscene gropes through the cum splattered up his crack.  A jolting, filthy moment of connection then he was arching, each of them with a possessive hand in the other's hair.

He collapsed, panting.  Mark was laughing underneath him.  He managed a giggle too.  Sticky fingers settled affectionately into the small of his back.

“I love you,” Nicky whispered.  A kiss pecked to his temple.

“Love you too.”

*

“So how long has it been now?”

“Um.”  They looked at each other.  The others were staying respectfully silent, as they tended to do when this subject came up in interviews.  “Ten years almost,” Mark replied, though there was a question in it.  Nicky nodded.

“Be ten in December,” he agreed.

“Any plans?”

“Don't know.”  It was a few months away.  Nicky had gotten used to answering these questions.  Not ideal, having their relationship be the subject all the time, but they'd discussed it then and it was better than pretending to hide, having to deal with this sort of banal intrusion.

Worse was the occasional times they weren't fine.  If they were tired or arguing.  Having to put on the charm and be loved up when they couldn't stand to look at each other.

Today was good.  Today Mark kept holding his hand under the table.

“I wouldn't ruin the surprise,” Mark added.  Nicky nudged him, laughing.  “No. Think just a quiet one?”  Nicky nodded.  It was close to Christmas anyway and they'd be in the middle of album promotion.  It always seemed to sweep by in the blur of everything else going on.

Dinner, maybe.  A nice romantic one in a private corner somewhere, where they could share dessert and maybe neck a bit over a few bottles of wine.

She was already onto the single release.  Nicky realised he was still smiling into his lap.

It had been an odd day, when they'd come out.  Removed.  He'd spent most of it sat in the living room, the phone off the hook and Mark flicking through channels as though there was anything on to watch that might be more interesting than the front page of the gossip rags.

They'd gone to Mark's family's place once it had died down.  People were still calling for interviews but they'd already given the ones they'd planned on, allowed people into their lives as much as they'd been willing to.  By the time they'd come back people were onto the next celebrity scandal and they were scheduled on breakfast television the next morning to talk about the tour as though nothing had changed.

And nothing had.  Except they didn't have to hide.

“Did you mind?” he murmured.  Shane looked up.  He and Kian sat on the other side of the van on the way back to the hotel.  Mark was looking out the window, though he glanced over his shoulder.

“What's that?”

“Did you...”  He sighed.  Realised he'd started now and had to finish.  “Me and Mark, I mean.  Would you have preferred it if we weren't-”  Mark's attention was on him now, careful.  “You know.”

“Eejits?  Sure, but you can't help that,” Kian teased, though his eyes were kind while he tried to break the tension.  “Schooling system these days.  Terrible.”

“Ha.”  Nicky kicked at him.  Shane was watching them, face unreadable.  “I don't know.  What if it had sunk us?  Or like... if we'd just turned into the gay band and nobody liked us any more.”

“It didn't, though,” Shane pointed out.  Mark was looking worried, bless him.  They all were.  “All worked out.  Anyway, you two were happy, what were we going to do?  Split you up or something?”  He nodded at Mark.  “You ever try to get this stubborn eejit to do what he's told?  Let alone you.”  Nicky snorted, unable to help it.

“It was a surprise,” Kian allowed.  “I won't say I wasn't worried you'd break up.  But we talked about it and we agreed there wasn't much we could do but be supportive.”

“You talked?”

“Course we did, ya deutz,” Kian sneered playfully, “we had to do something while you two were sneaking off to Mark's room.”  Shane giggled.  “Drown out the racket at least.  We were brothers.  Still are.  This'll be over one day and what are we going to say, that you could have spent the rest of your lives together but we split you up because we were scared?.”

“Exactly.”  Shane leaned forward, touched Nicky's hand.  “Something wrong?”

“No.  Just been thinking.”  He leaned sideways, let Mark's arm settle around him.  “Did I say thank you?”

“Probably.”  Kian shrugged.  “Doesn't matter anyway.”   Shane nodded in agreement.  “Stopped Mark going off the rails, so we should probably thank you.  And him, for keeping you in check.”  A kiss pressed to Nicky's temple, laughing.  “You're both shite, but you're less shite together.”

“Thanks Kian,” Mark chuckled.

“Welcome.”  The van was slowing.  “Ooh, hotel.”  He began to unbuckle himself.  “Few drinks in mine then head to the bar?”  That seemed a decent enough plan.  “Give us half an hour for a shower and I'll see you.”  They piled out after him.  A few fans gathered, holding out pens and CDs, some looking near tears.

Nicky turned towards them, Mark's voice warm and soft behind him.

*

“What was that about?”

Nicky hitched a shoulder, unable to answer with the toothbrush in his mouth.  Mark had just stepped out of the shower behind him and Nicky was waiting until the steam settled to bother fixing up his hair.  It clung to his skin, tacky.

“Anything you want to talk about?”

Nicky shrugged again.  Bent forward and spit down the drain, then began to run the tap while he gave his teeth a last scrub.  Another spit and Mark already had a towel around his waist, was drying his hair with another.

“Dunno.  Ten years.”  Mark raised an eyebrow.  “Maybe I'm taking stock or something.”

“Oh yes.”  Careful.  “And how's that going?”

“Fine.  Just... I was thinking about the early days a bit and how mad it was and... like, I guess it's perspective.  We felt so grown up but we were twenty.  How did we know we were doing the right thing?”

“How do we know now?” Mark pointed out.  “Ten years time we'll be looking back thinking how we were stupid when we were thirty.”

“I think that now.”  He glanced over his shoulder.  Mark was shrugging into a t-shirt.  Wandered out into the main space of the hotel room.  When Nicky caught up he was stepping into a pair of shorts.  He pulled them up, knotted the drawstring, then nudged back past to hang up his towel, leaving Nicky stood on the carpet, a bit directionless while Mark picked up a comb.

He caught up, after a minute.  Both of them jostling playfully for space while they sorted out their hair.  Mark finished first.  Handed Nicky the comb, which he took gratefully.

“Wait...”  Nicky blurted.  Mark paused on his way out.  Patiently stood while Nicky teased out the little curl in front that always looked cute flopped over his forehead.  “Perfect,” he explained.  Mark pecked his nose.

“If you say so,” and wandered out without checking it.  Without needing to look in a mirror because Nicky had said so.

Nicky smiled at his reflection while Mark began to hum gently in the other room.

*

“You look nice.”

“Thank you.”  Mark ducked his head a little to check himself in the kitchen window, just reflective enough in the early evening to make sure his hair was still alright.  “Shouldn't be too late.”  Nicky nodded into the TV Guide.  “What will you get up to?”

“Not sure.  This.”  He waved the remote vaguely with the hand not holding the guide.  “Wait up?”

“I'll text you round eleven?”

“Cool.”  Nicky yawned.  They'd probably be texting earlier, if their usual routine was anything to go by.  He was glad they had separate friends.  It was healthy, when they were always in each others pockets, and at least gave them each someone to take to activities the other would only feign interest in.

Mark was going to his weird theatre thing, and that was fine.  Nicky would stay in and put his feet up, rather than watch folk in too many scarves sing in riddles at each other.

He wasn't entirely sure that was what they did.  Had only been once or twice.  Something to do with jazz and jokes that sounded filthy that he couldn't understand head nor tail of.  Maybe he liked a bit of cock but it was all just a bit gay for his tastes.

Mark gave himself another check in the mirror, ducked over the back of the sofa to kiss Nicky's cheek, and then departed.

And Nicky was sat on his own, staring at the TV Guide.

There was nothing on.  Disappointing for a Friday night, when usually there was at least a decent film on, but after watching an hour of some rom-com he realised he was spending more time wandering in and out of the living room to get cups of tea than actually paying attention to the story and switched it off, settling down in Mark's huge arm-chair for some space.

It was comfortable there.  He wriggled around a bit until he got more comfortable, then hooked a magazine that was within reaching distance.  Some pap nonsense Mark had been reading on the plane a few days before and must have shoved in his carry-on.

It was alright.  Usual made-up dross.  Big Brother girls falling out of clubs.  Something about David Beckham seen out training, shirt off and glistening as though he was trying to win a prize.  Looked good, actually.  Nicky had been starting to get into weights and stuff himself, maybe build up a bit of muscle, and he skimmed the article briefly, lingering on the pictures maybe more than he needed, but...

He huffed out a laugh when he realised what he was doing.  What his downstairs was doing.  Turned the page, rolling his eyes at himself, figuring it was just bloody typical.  That Mark would laugh when he mentioned getting half-mast over Beckham's low-slung shorts.  Would probably climb on and help him get back to full-mast again if he played his cards right.  Get off on it too, the cheeky eejit.  With his nonsense about playing around.

Nicky hesitated.  Flicked back a couple of pages.  Beckham was still there, dripping and chiselled, and well...

Well.

He bit his lip.  Stupid move.  First thing they said not to do, especially when you were famous.  Hacking and paparazzi and all that.  But...

It didn't take much before he was grabbing his phone.  Snapped a quick picture and checked the number a hundred paranoid times before he was finally ready to press send.

Held his breath.

The reply was quick.

Is that right? ;-)

Nicky giggled to himself.  Couldn't help it.  That stupid floating picture of his erection, hand gripping the base, the shadow over Beckham's glossy face.

Cat's away ;-) he tapped back.  Could almost picture Mark.  That stupid smirk, just edging through a careful poker face.  He'd have tilted his phone closer so nobody would see.  Probably sat at a weird velvet-covered table back from a pallet stage while some lass covered herself in paint and everyone argued about metaphors.

Nicky was definitely having a better time here.

Slut

Definitely a better time.  And if he hadn't already been hard that message would have done it.  Still, he could almost hear it.  Mark calling him that.  The little possessive growl in that normal chocolate-sweet voice.  Closed his eyes and tilted his head back, letting his hand play.

Another soft ding.  Glanced down.

What you doing?

He grinned.  Fumbled the phone into the right position to text with his free hand, other one keeping up a slow tease near the base, rolling his balls occasionally as it passed.  Nice.

Thinking if I go out now I can find someone to take care of it.   Not sure if he was doing the right thing.  If this was what Mark wanted but-

What if I catch you?

What if you do? Nicky replied.  Won't be home until later.  Think I can't find someone in time?

Bet you'll have them gagging. Nicky groaned.  Never would have thought it of himself, getting hot over Mark slamming the door open, finding him under someone else.  Fucking someone else. 

Another soft ding.

My Nicky could have anyone he wants

Your Nicky?? ;-) Adjusted himself in the chair.  Fuck.  Mark's Nicky.

Mine.   Jesus fucking Christ.

You couldn't stop me.   Treading thin ice, maybe.  But fuck.  Mark just... stood in the doorway while he slammed into some pretty boy with too many abs, ruined him over the back of the sofa.  And Mark watching.  Raising one eyebrow, crossing his arms.  That smug look.

Couldn't I?

I'll be fucking his arse in the living room and what are you gonna do?

Fuck.  Head back, wrist a sudden blur.  Forced himself to slow it down.  Knew Mark too well, that he'd be chewing his lip now, eyes dark as midnight.  Cheeks a slapped pink he'd blame on the heating if asked.  Sat at a table in public and.

Long minute before the reply.  Two.  Eyes squeezed shut and biting his own shoulder occasionally to hold it back.  Hoped to hell Mark hadn't been busted.  That he hadn't been forced to put his phone away in deference to the show.  That-

He jumped on the next ding like a starving man on a hot meal.

“Fucking hell,” he muttered.  Front of Mark's black trousers, hand gripping an impressive ridge that curved to the left and away from his thigh.  Taken in the bathroom.  He was still staring when the message came through.

I'll show him how it's done right

Nicky groaned.  Was hitting the contact button before he knew what he was doing.

It picked up.  No greeting.  Just breathing on the other end.

“Home,” Nicky grunted.  “Now.”

“Wouldn't want to interrupt.”  Cheery, if a little rough.  Nicky growled.  “Be home later.  Love you, have fun.”

The call disconnected.  Nicky stared at it in horror.  Realised his other hand had stopped, shocked, gripping his cock.

He squeezed it absently, a little dazed and not sure what to do with it now.  The magazine was on his lap still.  Felt wrong so he threw it back onto the coffee table, feeling a bit ridiculous sat here with his knob hung over his jeans.

The message was a surprise.

If I was to be home in 15 min I wouldn't want to catch you doing something you shouldn't.

Nicky giggled.

Oh right.

Right.

*

“Nicky!”  Shuffling in the hall.  Nicky bit his lip.  Felt a bit stupid, hidden in the dark, in his own bedroom.  It had been slapdash.  Throwing off his clothes, grabbing a robe and everything else he needed.  Dimming the lights.  He'd almost burnt himself twice trying to light the candles too fast, then had ended up stood, back to the door, waiting for the noises that meant Mark was home.

The crunch of gravel in the drive, the familiar steps down the hall and slowly climbing the stairs.  The gentle tread along the upstairs hall toward...

He slipped out the through the bedroom door.  Closed it quickly behind himself and pressed himself against the wood, all smiles, while Mark baulked slightly at his sudden appearance.

“Er...”  He looked Nicky up and down.  “Hi.”

“You're home early,” Nicky said quickly.  His love raised an eyebrow.  “Erm...” He cringed slightly against the door.  “Take your coat?  We could go back downstairs.”

“I wasn't feeling a hundred percent.”  He reached for the doorknob.  Nicky blocked his way.  A slight smirk.  Nicky had to stop himself giggling.  “I'd like to go to bed, actually.”  Nicky blocked him again.  “What are you hiding?”

“Nothing.  Just...”  He shrugged.  “Been rearranging.  It's a bit of a mess.”

“Oh.”  Mark looked him up and down, eyes prickling as they went.  Slow.  “Well, I don't mind.  You can finish in the morning.”  He reached again.  Pressed close and Nicky couldn't help but breathe him in, slight sweat mixed with the cologne he was wearing.  “Nicky, I'm starting to get suspicious.”

“About what?”  They stared at each other.

Nicky dropped his eyes first.  Stepped away.  Mark sighed and pushed open the door.

“Nicky...”  He actually sounded overwhelmed for a second, bless him.  “This is...”  The candles on the dresser, drapes drawn and sheets already pulled back, scattered with petals.  He'd pulled a handful from a bunch of flowers the record company had delivered the day before and though they were starting to wilt they were doing a decent job at short notice.

“Um.”

“This is so romantic,” Mark murmured, then glanced over his shoulder.  “I wasn't going to be home for another two hours.”

“Um.”  Two steps across the room.  Wrenching open his robe until it was half down his arms, trapping them.  

“Who's this for?”

“No-nobody,” Nicky stammered, eyes big.  Eyes raked over him, taking in the tight black boxer briefs, barely concealing his erection.  “It's only you.”  He pressed his palms to Mark's thighs pleadingly, as high as they'd go with the robe trapping them.  “He didn't mean anything.”

No reply.  Just eyes.  Possessive, raking eyes.  Nicky gulped.

Mark leaned in.

“Did you fuck him?”

“No,” Nicky whispered.  Hot breath on his neck, Jesus Christ.  “I wouldn't, baby.  Not without your permission.”  Grunted in surprise at the careful clasp that slid around his jaw, holding him as still as the sleeves of his robe.  “We just played a little; honest.”  Nuzzled as well as he could into Mark's cheek.  “He said he wanted me.”

“You don't think I want you?” Rasped in his ear.  “Have I done something wrong, love?  Making you think I don't?”

“No, course not,” Nicky said quickly.  “Just... I was horny, baby.  So hot for someone to touch me and you weren't here.”  He pouted.  A shamless pout but fuck it.  “Bet if you touched me I'd forget all about him.  If you touched me I'd never want anyone else.”  He managed a cheeky nip on Mark's jaw, felt the hand on his own clamp tighter.  “Forgot whose I am.”

“Whose are you?”

“Remind me,” Nicky whimpered.  He felt Mark shudder against him.  “Put your hands on me so I never forget again.”

“Jesus fuck,” Mark muttered.  Nicky grinned.  Hid it quickly when he realised blue eyes were peering at him, close.  “Stay.”  Slight fumble out of Nicky's view and then he yelped when he felt a tight cinch on his wrists.  The belt.  Mark had knotted them behind his back, trapped in the sleeves and restrained by the belt.  “My Nicky,” he growled.  “Mine.”

Nicky closed his eyes and let Mark remind him.

*

“How you feeling?”

Nicky huffed a breath, rubbed himself into the sheets.  Mark was behind him, kissing into the dimples of his back.  Teased them with a tender nibble.

“Like melted ice-cream.”  That got a low chuckle.

“I'll have to lick you up.”  Nicky giggled as a tongue trailed down his crack, swirling at his balls when they reached them.  He squirmed, more ticklish than anything, too sated to be turned on.  Three in the morning, maybe later.  Mark's mouth on him.  “Sorry I got jealous.”

“No you're not.”  A nip at his inner thigh, shaped like a smirk.  “You'll have to catch me more often.”

“Apparently.”  Soft hair and the weight of Mark's head rested on the back of his thigh, slow breath, the scrape of stubble.  Nicky closed his eyes, utterly content.  “It's okay?” he said quietly.  “I don't want to push you or anything.”

“You're not.  Anyway, it's not like we've really...”  He let the sentence go unfinished.  Felt long eyelashes tickle his skin.  “I didn't know you could get like that.  Possessive and stuff.  Why didn't you tell me earlier?”

“Dunno.  I wasn't keeping secrets or anything.  It just sort of... it didn't come up.”

“Why now?”

“I just... I didn't want to be that person, you know?  Like, getting jealous.  And I'm not.  It's good we have space.  Our own things and stuff.  But like... sometimes you were flirting and I'd think I was supposed to be annoyed or something.”

“You weren't?”

“No.  I mean, I trust you or whatever.  Just I see what it's like.  When someone's talking to us and I could be anywhere else because they only see you.”

“I only see you,” Nicky murmured.  Mark hummed gently, making him smile.

“I know.  It's my favourite.”

“Mine too.”  He twisted awkwardly to peer over his shoulder, got a glimpse of messy dark hair and one eye looking up.  “Get up here.”  Mark groaned.  Shoved himself onto all fours and clambered awkwardly up before collapsing beside him.  “Hey.”  He shuffled onto his side, snuggling in until they were locked together, head to toe, Mark's thigh over his.  “People see you, you know.”  Mark snorted.

“Not like that.”

“The fans...”

“Come on, Nicky.  You know that's different.”  Nicky shrugged.  Probably true.  Blind devotion wasn't exactly objective.

“Okay.”  He bit gently at Mark's nose.  “Maybe people look at me, but you know what it's like standing next to you and you say something so clever or funny and I just feel like I'm talking bollocks?”  Nose wrinkled in disbelief.  “People ask for your opinion, and not just on the football.  They ask for advice and they want to know what you think about things.”

“I'm alright.”

“You're amazing,” Nicky murmured.  “You don't know how gorgeous you are.”  He palmed gently down Mark's cheek, unable to help himself.  “I'm obsessed with you.”

“Weirdo.”

“Jealous,” Nicky shot back.  “Anyway, you'd leave me in a heartbeat if you realised how much better you could do.”

“Couldn't.”

“Could.”  They grinned at each other.  Stupid and overtired and Nicky still like melted ice-cream and the smell of spunk still thick in the air and tacky on his stomach where Mark had ridden him, Nicky coaxing out a second orgasm neither of them had expected.  “My turn to be jealous.”  He pecked a swollen bottom lip.  “Pick someone up,” he suggested, surprising himself.

“What?”

“Pick someone up.”  It still didn't sound quite real.  “Next time we're somewhere nobody knows us.  My Mark could have anyone he wants.”  Wide eyes, a little bloodshot at the late hour.  “Do it, and I'll decide when to stop you.”

“Nicky...”

“This was your fantasy, right?”  His boyfriend was chewing his lip.  “You suggested it.”

“Yeah but...”

“Then I get to be jealous too,” Nicky pointed out.  “You want to sleep with other people, okay.  Let's see how far you get before I rip their hands off you.”  A disbelieving chuckle that made Nicky grin despite his hammering heart.  “I can be jealous too.”

“Maybe we should get some sleep.”

“Maybe.”  Mark stifled a yawn, which Nicky caught a moment later, both of them covering their mouths, the duvet more and more inviting though it was bunched at the bottom of the mattress and he really didn't want to have to get it.  “Just an idea.”  He pecked Mark's cheek.  “I don't get it, but I get you.  If it's something you need, okay.”

“I just need you,” Mark murmured.  Nicky nudged him gently.

“I need you.”  He kicked at the duvet.  Grinned when Mark did as well, until they were both able to hook it, pincer it between their shared feet and drag it awkwardly up.  Nicky hooked it with one hand when it was high enough, pulled it over both of them.  “Teamwork.”

“Teamwork,” Mark agreed.  “Love you.”

Nicky snuggled closer and yawned the words back.

*

“You're both looking well.”

Nicky nodded.  Accepted the glass Marie handed him.  He'd meant to be doing something, but stopped on his way to whatever it was when he'd caught sight of Mark.

He looked adorable.  Sat on the floor in his awful Christmas sweater, cheeks still a little pink from the cold, playing with one of his cousins' kids.  Some pink castle contraption with little dolls, playing out a trapped dinosaur and a brave Barbie saving it from an evil teddy bear holding court in the turrets.

“That's not the sound a velociraptor makes,” she scolded.  Mark was already apologising.  Nicky smirked.

“What sound does a velociraptor make?” Marie laughed.

“Not sure.  Not that one,” Nicky reasoned.  She snorted.  “Thanks for having us.”  She rolled her eyes as though there was any way they'd have escaped a Feehily family Christmas.  Next year was a Byrne event, but this year was all about Mark, playing with the kids and annoying his mam in the kitchen.  They'd all gone on a ride round a field in a horse-drawn cart that morning, squashed in amongst the hay and giggling over every bump and stone.

Nicky still smelled like horse.  He didn't mind.

“Ten years last week.”

“He said.”  Nicky hid his smile in a sip of champagne.  “Can't believe it meself.  Seems it was only yesterday him bringing you to dinner.”

“Thought he was going to burst into flames.”  He'd been bright red.  Mumbled out a hurried explanation over roast potatoes and boiled cabbage, his hand gripping Nicky's tight under the table.

“Utter mess.  When you'd gone to bed he was going on and on.  Think he realised it was okay and just wanted to talk about how fabulous you were.  It was like a cork popping out.”  Nicky chuckled.  That was Mark.

“Caught him practicing his speech in the mirror before we left Dublin.”

“Bless him.”  They both realised Mark had looked up, was studying them both, whispering near the stairs.  “How's the dinosaurs, love?”

“It's a work in progress,” he said cheerfully. She was poking him in the arm, annoyed by his distracted attentions.  He turned back in, looking serious when she handed him a cluster of Lego people and started pointing to where she wanted them.

“He's great with kids.”  A pang he hadn't expected.  She touched his arm gently.

“World's changing.  You'll be married with three of your own one day, no doubt.”

“Start with one,” Nicky joked, though when Mark began to tickle her he couldn't help a jolt of sadness.  For what they were.  The little less he knew they'd always have to make peace with.  “If we can't, he's enough.  Anyway, can't go to Paris for a romantic weekend with kids,” he added.  They'd booked it on a whim, just to get some time on their own.  Nicky suspected they both knew what they intented to happen there.

“You two deserve more than that.”  She patted his shoulder, was gone a moment later, off to deal with some crisis in the kitchen.  Nicky wandered over to sink into a nearby armchair.

“Hey.”  Mark was still wrestling her fists out of his hair, while she squawked and he tried not to knock over all their hard work.

“Hey.”  Breathless and giggling.  “I'm being attacked.”

“Will you survive?”

“If I can survive you, I'm sure I'll be okay.”  He managed to scoop her up somehow, lift her over his head and into a struggling hug.  “Gotcha.”  She went sullenly limp.  “Love you.”  She mumbled it back.  He let her free to go back to her toys.  “What were you two gossiping about?”

“You know.  Marriage.  Kids.”

“You running off with me mam?”

“Ha.”  Mark winked.  “I would, with you,” he said quietly.  “If things were different.”  Too many lunchtime champagnes.  He was getting sentimental.  Mark's smile softened.

“Same,” he murmured.  Scooted a little closer so his back was against Nicky's calves.  His cousin was too caught up with her game to notice.  Nicky ran his fingers through hair that had mostly dried from the light snowfall outside.  “It'll sound stupid, but I've done it in my head a few times.  Like... we'll be walking somewhere pretty and I'll just look at you and suddenly I wish I had a ring because I'd be down on one knee, y'know?”

“You're down on both more than enough,” Nicky teased.  A grin was tossed over a broad shoulder, though it tweaked in the corners with nerves.  “You can propose to me whenever you want,” he added.  “The answer's yes.”  Mark snorted.

“Not much point, is there?”

“No, but we'll know.”

“I suppose so.”  He tilted his head back, strange, looking up from between Nicky's thighs.  “Did we just get engaged?”

“Think so.”  He bent awkwardly to drop a kiss on Mark's forehead.  “Love you, gorgeous.”  A hand fumbled at his arm until it could catch his fingers in a squeeze.  Undramatic, he supposed, but it was enough to have Mark smiling like that.  Oddly perfect for them.  Something close and just for two.

“Adore you,” Mark murmured back.  They both jumped at a clatter from the kitchen, realised they were still in a crowded room, though the chatter of other people had drowned them out.  “Should we see if mam needs help?”

“Suppose.”  He pecked Mark's forehead again, then helped him up.  Smiled when he was pulled into a close hug that let him breathe in this beautiful man.    Strong hands on his lower back, his face buried in the strong shoulder beneath a scratchy Christmas jumper.

He meant to move.  Instead he stayed, for a moment, gripping Mark tight.

*

“I dunno.”

“You look amazing,” Nicky chuckled.  Felt weird laughing, dressing Mark all sexy so he could go out and pick up someone else, but here they were, in a hotel room in Paris, getting ready to pimp Mark out.  “Delicious, honestly.”  He reached up to adjust the collar of Mark's shirt, a sheer black that clung to him in ways Nicky didn't think he could cope with.

“I can just stay home.”

“No you can't,” Nicky argued.  Mark was looking more and more torn.

“I don't have to-”

“You do, though,” Nicky reasoned.  And he did.  For both of them, Nicky suspected.  To play this thing out until its end until they could both say for certain that it had been ticked and put away.  The uncertainty since that surprise announcement all those months ago.  “Whatever happens, we deal with it.  I won't love you any less, alright?”

The quirk at the corner of Mark's mouth said that was what he'd been worried about.  Nicky tweaked it away with the edge of his thumb, stroked gently into the perfect curve of a cheek, freshly shaved and still hot from the water.

“Maybe a different shirt?”

“You've tried on five,” Nicky pointed out.  “Pull up your jeans, you're not sixteen.”  Mark did so, laughing.  “Right, go fix your hair.”

“Yes, mam.”  His boyfriend slumped off, though there was something sweetly sexy in his walk, something edging at excitement.  Maybe not confidence, but almost.  He came back in a mist of hairspray, fumbling his watch on with one hand.

Nicky stepped in to help.  Linked it gently then secured it.  A silver Cartier Nicky had spoiled him with two birthdays ago.  When he looked up Mark was watching him, lashes lowered slightly over midnight eyes.

“We need to go,” he murmured.  “Right now.”

“Why?”

“Because I'm so fucking hard I won't leave otherwise,” Mark croaked.  Nicky swallowed.  Felt himself thrill at the brush of just the hairs on Mark's arm against his own wrist.  The hand that had settled on his hip at some point and was idly rolling a squeeze with every other heartbeat.

“Yeah?”  He let their noses pass, just the barest whisper of a nuzzle.

“Yeah.”  Dark eyes darted down.  Back up.  “Look alright?”

“Like dinner and dessert.”  The hand on his hip slid round a little, almost palming to his arse.  Nicky peeled it away gently, Mark's eyes locked with his the whole time, and began to fish in his pocket for his phone.  “I'll call the taxi.”

*

Mark stood by the bar.

The club was busy.  They’d gone out late.  Maybe they weren’t known well in France but it was easier not to risk it.  Packed nightclub, people already under the influence.  Dark and strobe-lit and the music so loud there was no point trying to talk.

They’d danced.  Danced again.  Had a few drinks.  Crowded enough that he’d felt people rub up against them more than once, maybe not always on purpose.  He’d seen the looks though.  Dinner and dessert, he’d said, well Mark was breakfast, lunch and a cheeky afternoon charcuterie on top of that.

He’d been a boy, when they’d started out.  Both of them young and skinny and pouting for the camera.  Painfully aware of themselves.  Stupid in youth.  Gangly limbs clutching awkwardly at making sense of what they felt.

Now he was a man.  And fuck, Nicky liked men.  A thought he’d have giggled through the side of a twisted mouth ten years ago.  But men he liked, and Mark was a gateway drug and rock bottom all in one.  Sell his house, sell his car, but he’d be feeding a habit like Mark for the rest of his life.

Nicky had promised not to interrupt.  Stood in the shadows as a blonde in a shimmering mesh top paused and said something over a martini.  Mark grinned.  Shy almost.  Gaze darting as though looking for Nicky’s.

But no.

He’d let Mark get as far as he wanted.

Until Nicky decided it was enough.

Swallowed.  Light hand on Mark’s forearm, teasing at the shirt fabric.  Tilted head.  The boy was a flirt .  Mark was laughing back.

They hadn’t done this.  Nicky hadn’t flirted so much as followed Mark about like a puppy.  Adored him and raged at himself.  Felt that tight-throated panic whenever Mark’s gaze had locked on him, even for a half-second.  As if seeing him.

He hadn’t wanted to be seen.  Had wanted it more than anything.

While Mark had flirted with other boys and Nicky had waited button-lipped and pretended he hadn’t felt what he’d felt.  Like tears hadn’t stung in the corners of his eyes.

Shuddered a breath out.

Hadn’t expected this.  To feel small again.  Stood in the corner of the bar, a wilting bud watching a flower bloom.

Maybe that was why he’d clung to Mark, at first.  When they’d first kissed.  Every other move after that.  Slow and respectful.  What Nicky had needed.  Too many walls and Mark not knocking them down.  Just asking, politely, if he was allowed.

Not like this.  Mark leading a shimmering boy onto the dance floor, pressing close.  Like he had before when Nicky had felt not enough because other boys didn’t need a safety presentation and a waiver.  Other boys didn’t back off twice for every step forward.

He wasn’t that boy any more.  And neither was Mark.

Nicky swallowed.  Felt himself stir in his trousers.  Tall, broad man with burgeoning crows-feet and stubble despite the shave.  Filled out in all the best ways.  Pulling close someone who could have been Nicky, ten years ago, if he hadn’t been so frightened.

He’d have liked it.  Realised he was running two fingers up his own throat when he shivered.  Let them purse at his lips on the way past.  Those hands on him.  Maybe not Mark’s, maybe someone else’s.  But god he was always Mark’s.  He just…

Dark eyes flicked the room.  Searching for him.

He stepped back into the shadows.  Let his teeth scrape his inner wrist.  His other hand dropped to rake fingernails up his thigh.  Little touches.  Like when Mark had finally laid him, shivering, back on the bed and asked him what felt good.

Mapping him.  His own hands clumsy and just grasping at what they could reach.  Backhanded stroke down mesh sides, tugging the rhinestones as they went.  Lips against Mark’s jaw in response.

Nicky breathed in.  Could still smell Mark’s cologne on his collar.  Lifted it a little to get the sense of it.

If he’d been brave, he’d have done something.  Walked up to Mark on a hundred dancefloors.  Interjected.

But he hadn’t.  Had watched and felt warring jealousy and arousal.

Mark had never got to feel that.

Nicky gulped.  Stepped out of the shadows.  Saw dark eyes meet his and light up, fixing.  Nicky’s mouth was open.  His trousers tight.  Mark’s hand closed on a perfect arse-cheek.  Eyebrow quirked up.

Stop me, it said.  Say something.

Nicky strode forward.  Four steps.  Paused.  Stood in the middle of the dancefloor, a writhe of people between them.

The boy tried to kiss Mark.  Mark turned away deftly, let the lips graze his cheek instead.  Probably wouldn’t, the second time.

You never stopped me, the look said.  You didn’t have the balls.

Exhale.  Lightheaded.  Sharp sweat and alcohol on the inhale.

If he’d just…

Scratchy hair under his palm.  The wrist he’d grasped flexed, then settled.

“Nicky.”

“Mark.”  The boy was watching idly, tucked under Mark’s chin.  “Sorry to interrupt.”

“Everything alright?”

Nicky snorted.  “No.”  Watchful gaze.  “No it’s not.  I…”  He glanced at the boy, who took the hint and evaporated into the crowd.  “I’m stupid, actually.”  Quirked eyebrow.  “I watch you dance with other boys and can’t admit that every time you do I fall more in love with you.  But I’m too chickenshit to say anything.”

“Oh.”  Not the way Mark had expected this to go.  Nicky hadn’t either.  “Okay.”

“I fell in love with you the moment I saw you, and I won’t admit it to myself.  I probably still won’t, until I get really drunk and kiss you and I’ll probably let you take the lead because that’s what feels easier.  Instead of standing up for myself and saying what I feel.  And I’ll keep doing that for… fuck, ten years because I’m terrified I won’t be enough.”

“Will you?”  Worry, now, flicking at the corner of Mark’s smile.  “Nicky…”

“I don’t need to know what it feels like to see you with someone else.”  His hands tucked into Mark’s collar, straightened it.  Then tugged Mark in.  “I’m staking my claim,” he growled.  Felt Mark stiffen against him.  Bit his earlobe.  “Like I should have.  I’m not chasing you, love.  Not any more.”  Bit again, behind it.  Felt the whine rumble through delicate skin.  “I’m taking it.”

He pulled back.  Blown pupils dragged dazedly up him.  Swollen lips mouthed what was probably a curse.  Nicky’s heart pounded in his throat.

A tongue darted out.

“Get a cab,” Nicky growled.  “I’m taking you home.”

*

It wasn’t far to the hotel.  The silence rippled.  They sat in the back.  Nicky stared out the window.  Knew if he looked, to where Mark’s eyes were on him, he’d be gone.  Could feel the gaze on the back of his neck, prickling.  Saw it, when the cab finally stopped and he turned.

Dark.  Bottom lip sagging and damp.  Teeth pinned it for a moment then released.  Flushed cheeks and a slouch that made room for the warped line of Mark’s fly.

He stepped out.  Strode away, leaving Mark to pay the driver.  Felt the scurrying of footsteps after him.

“Nicky-”

“Shh,” Nicky murmured.  Felt the tenseness beside him in the lift.  Mark was twitchy.  Nicky grasped his wrist for a moment and let go when he tried to cling back, heard a soft groan.

The room was dark.  He slotted the key into the light.  Stepped back and let Mark through.

“Take off your clothes,” he breathed.  “Get on the bed.”

Waited in the hall.  Heard the shuffling and ran his hand over the front of his jeans.  Angry and aching.  Agony when he released himself and pumped twice, eyes fluttering shut.  Stifled a moan.  Heard Mark’s own sigh and realised the shuffling had stopped.  The bed was creaking as he settled himself.

When he walked around the corner it was bliss.

Mark moaned.  Stretched.  Stripped and hard, chest heaving in easy gasps.  Nicky’s hand was still on his own cock, he realised, and he stroked it again.  Gentled at the head while Mark watched with bright, hungry eyes, fingers digging into the sheets.

“That’s gorgeous,” Nicky muttered.  “Christ, love.”  Stood at the foot.  “Whose?”

“Yours,” Mark breathed.  “Only yours.”

“That’s it.”  The bed creaked as he knelt up on the foot.  His hands caught him on all fours, cock aching as he let gravity take it.  “S’okay love, I’ll go slow with you.”  Pressed a kiss to a trembling shin.  Into a creamy thigh.  Delicate skin below his teeth.  Muscles strong.  “Tell me how to touch you.”

“Nicky…”

“I know it’s scary the first time, baby.  I won’t hurt you.”  Thready gasping breaths.  “You play the slut but I know you’ve been waiting for me.”

“They don’t do it for me like you.”

“Mm… good.”  Fingernails raking through his hair.  Urging.  “That’s it,” he murmured.  “I’ve sucked a lot of cocks, you know.”  A slightly unhinged giggle as fingers clawed through his hair.  Nicky grinned.  “Tell me how you like it.”

“Like it… like it wet.  When it’s deep in your throat and I can feel you drooling on me.”

“Yeah, baby?”  He knew that well enough.  Start bobbing and it was all over.  “I’ve got you.”

He sank down.

Hips jumped.

Intoxicating.  Mark writhing and folding around him.  Nicky went slow.  Sank and swallowed and sank and swallowed.  Mark had taught him.  Breathe around it.  Find an angle and just… fuck… just focus on how it felt.  Not an intrusion.  A feast.  Something to hold inside you.

“Fuck fuck fuck… ”  High, whining sob.  “That’s…”  Feet clawed the sheets.  Nicky screwed his nose into the base, breathing in sweat and hair.  Growled around it.  Sharp flutter of Mark’s stomach.

Let the seal loosen.  Saliva soaking out onto Mark’s groin, down his balls.  Sucked again.  Felt a knee knock wildly into his shoulder.

“Fuck.  Play with my…”  He groaned.  Nicky resisted the urge to rub himself off into the sheets.  Too gorgeous, Mark in his throat and falling apart.  He wondered if he’d been like that, at first.  Had been too embarrassed to notice.  “Finger me.  Slow.”

Puckered knot on his finger, jumping at the touch.  He did it gentle.  Knew it wasn’t enough.  Knew from ten years that Mark would want-

“Harder.”  Rasp.  “God, your mouth…”  Nicky looked up.  Wrecked.  Blazing while Nicky twisted past the breach.  Started a slow, smooth jab.  He shivered.  Arching mess of sweat.  Looked back down, gaze searching Nicky’s, hectic flush bleeding from cheeks to chest.  “Two fingers.  I want…”

He obliged.  Scissored them.  Tight passage that rippled on his hand, knuckles deep and palm settled beneath seizing balls.  Mark was riding them.  Cock nudging Nicky’s throat and though his eyes were watering he’d not stop.  Not while Mark was like that, rocking on his hand and into his mouth, thighs juddering around his head, a squeezing, desperate embrace.

A heel slammed into the bed, too close to his head.  Mark was laughing.  Nicky was muffled by cock.

Warning jerk, slightly hysterical.  Pulled up.

“Are you going to come?”

“Yes,” Mark exhaled.  Swollen lips.

“I want to fuck it out of you,” Nicky growled.  Not difficult, with how raw his throat was.  “I’ll be gentle to you.”  Kissed his way up Mark’s stomach, letting the bobbing erection rub against his chest.  Mark hissed.  “You want me, I can feel it.”

He bit into one nipple.  Mark arched, whined.  Spread his thighs and let Nicky’s planted knees push them apart.

Electric.  Dark eyes fluttered as he stared into their depths.

“Yours,” Mark breathed, as Nicky guided home.

*

“You want to talk about it?” Mark asked.

It was late.  Mark snuggled to his chest, one leg thrown over Nicky’s.  He felt bad for the  housekeeper because, Christ, mess was an understatement.  There’d been clawing.  Biting.  The fitted sheets were half off the mattress, the duvet had knocked over a lamp when Mark had hurled it off the bed.

They were sharing a pillow.  Nicky wasn’t sure where the other one was.  It had been propping up Mark’s hips at some point.

“I’d suggest we do that more often, but I don’t think we’d survive,” Nicky admitted.  Felt a sleepy laugh.  “You okay?”

“Sore.”  He yawned.  “Feels good.”

“Yeah.”  Nicky kissed his forehead.  Patted a firm arse that was still dripping three loads down his thigh.  “Clean you up at some point.”  Noncommittal hum.  Nicky hadn’t thought he had it in him.  He wasn’t nineteen anymore.  “Love you.”  A responding kiss to his chest, open-mouthed.  “I’d forgotten how it felt, wanting to grab you all the time and you having no idea.  Not feeling like I deserved it.”

“I knew,” Mark murmured.  Nicky looked down in surprise.  “Maybe not like that, but I saw you watching.”

“You didn’t say anything.”

“What would you have done?”

“Run away, probably.”  Mark snorted against his chest.  “Never talked to you again.  Set up a shack in the mountains somewhere and turned into a monk.”

“You did shave your head that one time.”

“We agreed not to talk about that.”  He raked teasing fingernails up a supple back.  Mark grinned into his shoulder.  Craned a little to peck his cheek.  “You never came up with a point three,” Nicky said.  “Point three is maybe we don’t need to sleep with other people.  Maybe we just need to be honest.  About what we want.  I think I was always afraid of rocking the boat, but you were right.  We were treading water.  I want more than that with you.”

“What’s that?”

“I want to fuck like that occasionally,” Nicky laughed.  “Take you out and do kinky things and remember what it’s like.  Being young and stupid.”  The rippling panic of letting his mam down.  Not being the son he’d promised.  Too scared to even ask, as though he didn’t deserve it.  “I want to get a bigger place.”

Mark swallowed.  Thoughtful silence.  Nicky couldn’t look down.

“Shane owes us an eternity of babysitting.”

“I was thinking the same.”  He exhaled.  Realised he’d been holding his breath.  Looked down to a small, fond smile that didn’t look scared.  “I want to have a conversation about it.”

“We could start researching it.”  He snuggled back into Nicky’s chest.  “But it’s four in the morning, so how about we finish this holiday, and when we get home we’ll make some phonecalls, alright?”  Nicky nodded.  “You know, when I said bringing in other people, this wasn’t what I meant.”

“Complaints?”

“Not a single one.”  There was half a sheet slung off the side.  They worked it up together, got it over both of them.  “Teamwork,” Mark muttered.

Nicky grinned and kissed his hair.