[ almost immediately, billy senses that he might have fucked up. he watches the way marcus' eyebrows shift, notes the way he doesn't laugh or smile at his dumb lawnmower metaphor, and his own laugh immediately dies in his throat, sending the small dorm room into a silence that isn't quite uncomfortable, but doesn't make him feel like he can relax, either, despite the weed in his system doing its best to loosen him up. the corners of his mouth soften, the quiet joy kind of melting out of his expression until, like marcus, he just looks mostly neutral. nervous, still, but mostly unattached.
but he's still attached, his hand still steady on marcus' hip despite the feeling that he's fucked up somehow. he watches quietly as marcus finishes the joint, unbothered, and when marcus tips his head back to exhale and stare up at the ceiling, billy follows the line of his throat with his eyes, up under his chin where it looks soft. his thumb taps gently against marcus' hip, some part of his brain telling him he can't reach up and touch the underside of marcus jaw the way he wants to, another part of his brain telling him he might like the way it tastes, if he just gives it a try.
marcus moves, stepping forward and dislodging billy's hand from his hip, dislodging him from his own slow, dangerous thoughts. billy blinks, his hand still hovering in the space marcus just stepped out of for a moment before he lets it fall, the soft heel of his palm thumping quietly against his knee. and then marcus is just - there. suddenly, marcus is on his fucking knees in front of billy, putting his hands on billy's thighs and looking up at him and all billy can do for three solid seconds is sit there with slightly widened eyes and a dry mouth, staring back down at marcus.
this feels like something else. billy's had his fair share of handjobs, but this feels distinctly like something else - or maybe he just wants it to be more than what it is, maybe he's just reading too much into marcus being on his knees instead of sitting next to him, the way billy expected this was going to go. sorry, marcus says, quieter than billy expects, and without thinking about it too much, he moves his hand from his knee and puts it over the back of one of marcus' in what's meant to be a forgiving, reassuring gesture. when marcus starts to move his hands, billy doesn't stop him, lifting his own hand out of the way, but still leaving it hovering in the space between them, unsure of what he's supposed to be doing despite the fact that between the two of them, he's the one with more experience here.
his brain shuts off. marcus' fingers pull at his waistband, tugging at the front of his belt as they try to work the worn strap of leather through the buckle, exposing the button underneath, pushing it through the buttonhole. billy watches this in a way that feels disorienting, both hyper-focused and from a distance. when marcus looks up, billy's slow to meet his eyes, but it's not out of shyness or hesitation - it just takes him a second to realize marcus has paused for a reason. billy glances up, his brows furrowing slightly, silently questioning whether marcus is okay, trying to suss out if he's uncomfortable, if they should stop. his hand is still hovering, slightly off to the side now so it's out of marcus' way.
maybe lay down, marcus tells him, but billy doesn't move to obey. instead, he just continues to stare at marcus, uncharacteristically silent, but it doesn't take longer before his hovering hand starts to move, carefully closing around one of marcus' wrists at his belt. ]
Uh, [ he starts, his voice a little lower than normal, a little rough. he wets his lips, drags his tongue along the inside of his bottom teeth, swallows again as he tugs gently on marcus' wrist. ] ... You should come up here. You could.
[ he pulls again on marcus' wrist, starts to slowly scoot himself backwards, inching back but wary that marcus might not want to follow. suddenly, all he can think about is marcus sitting on his lap, knees on either side of him. he clears his throat quietly. ]
I, uh. I want to be able— ... I can't reach you. If you stay down there, I mean.
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but he's still attached, his hand still steady on marcus' hip despite the feeling that he's fucked up somehow. he watches quietly as marcus finishes the joint, unbothered, and when marcus tips his head back to exhale and stare up at the ceiling, billy follows the line of his throat with his eyes, up under his chin where it looks soft. his thumb taps gently against marcus' hip, some part of his brain telling him he can't reach up and touch the underside of marcus jaw the way he wants to, another part of his brain telling him he might like the way it tastes, if he just gives it a try.
marcus moves, stepping forward and dislodging billy's hand from his hip, dislodging him from his own slow, dangerous thoughts. billy blinks, his hand still hovering in the space marcus just stepped out of for a moment before he lets it fall, the soft heel of his palm thumping quietly against his knee. and then marcus is just - there. suddenly, marcus is on his fucking knees in front of billy, putting his hands on billy's thighs and looking up at him and all billy can do for three solid seconds is sit there with slightly widened eyes and a dry mouth, staring back down at marcus.
this feels like something else. billy's had his fair share of handjobs, but this feels distinctly like something else - or maybe he just wants it to be more than what it is, maybe he's just reading too much into marcus being on his knees instead of sitting next to him, the way billy expected this was going to go. sorry, marcus says, quieter than billy expects, and without thinking about it too much, he moves his hand from his knee and puts it over the back of one of marcus' in what's meant to be a forgiving, reassuring gesture. when marcus starts to move his hands, billy doesn't stop him, lifting his own hand out of the way, but still leaving it hovering in the space between them, unsure of what he's supposed to be doing despite the fact that between the two of them, he's the one with more experience here.
his brain shuts off. marcus' fingers pull at his waistband, tugging at the front of his belt as they try to work the worn strap of leather through the buckle, exposing the button underneath, pushing it through the buttonhole. billy watches this in a way that feels disorienting, both hyper-focused and from a distance. when marcus looks up, billy's slow to meet his eyes, but it's not out of shyness or hesitation - it just takes him a second to realize marcus has paused for a reason. billy glances up, his brows furrowing slightly, silently questioning whether marcus is okay, trying to suss out if he's uncomfortable, if they should stop. his hand is still hovering, slightly off to the side now so it's out of marcus' way.
maybe lay down, marcus tells him, but billy doesn't move to obey. instead, he just continues to stare at marcus, uncharacteristically silent, but it doesn't take longer before his hovering hand starts to move, carefully closing around one of marcus' wrists at his belt. ]
Uh, [ he starts, his voice a little lower than normal, a little rough. he wets his lips, drags his tongue along the inside of his bottom teeth, swallows again as he tugs gently on marcus' wrist. ] ... You should come up here. You could.
[ he pulls again on marcus' wrist, starts to slowly scoot himself backwards, inching back but wary that marcus might not want to follow. suddenly, all he can think about is marcus sitting on his lap, knees on either side of him. he clears his throat quietly. ]
I, uh. I want to be able— ... I can't reach you. If you stay down there, I mean.