[ 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.
[ it's strange - the air between them is tense and stiff, all this awkward, fumbling anxiety ruining what should be an otherwise enjoyable, easy distraction from all the shit in marcus's head, and marcus wasn't sure that anything would break the ice between them, at this point. the depth in billy's voice, though, the roughness in that uh... something about it is just funny, to marcus, who finds himself laughing softly, a sharp smile cutting through the cynical expression he'd been wearing. billy is the kid who runs through life with flailing arms, voice cracking and screaming at the slightest provocation, and there's just something about the disconnect between marcus's image of him and the overtly sexual atmosphere that just... tickles him. ever since billy asked him to come to vegas, marcus has been seeing him in more and more new lights.
but marcus's smile fades, when billy touches his wrist and invites him on the bed, the raw, intimidating energy of what they're doing creeping back into him full force. he's not sure why that feels like more of an intimate invasion of billy's personal space than what he's already done, being down here on his knees, but it still feels like a step he wasn't prepared to take. that doesn't stop him from moving - he carefully rises to his feet and takes a hesitant step forward, then turns and sits down on the edge of the mattress, close enough for his knee to touch billy's. he sweeps his hand back through his hair, chuckles a little awkwardly, and finds himself hitting a bit of a roadblock. he barely managed to find his flow, and now that it's been interrupted, he's not sure what to do next.
marcus drops his head, resting his ear on his shoulder, looking at billy sideways. there's a stretch of silence, marginally more relaxed than any silence that came before it, but still a little tense. marcus looks at billy like he's trying to decide something, and when his eyes drop down to billy's neck, his throat, his chest, he figures he just needs to go for it. that's always how he wins in situations like these, right? he finds a fledgling sign of interest, a small show of need or acceptance, and he chases after it as hard as he can. billy's here for a reason - marcus is the only one holding things up.
no more half-hearting this. no more thinking about stiles, no more second-guessing what he and billy's friendship will look like when this is said and done - marcus is straight, marcus knows he's straight, but he also knows that if he takes billy to his room only to be a clumsy, sloppy lay, if he and billy even fucking get that far, then he's going to damage their relationship more than if he commits to this the way he decided he would when he first offered to jerk billy off. marcus knows he has to move in for the kill. ]
Hey - close your eyes for me.
[ when billy does as he's told - marcus will wait, eyebrows raised and patient, until he does - marcus moves closer, the subtle shift felt through the mattress dipping beneath his weight. marcus sets one hand on billy's thigh, stroking the inner sides of it with the side of his thumb, and without thinking, with his eyes hypocritically still open, he leans in, pressing his lips to the corner of billy's mouth. he moves his hand up billy's thigh, brings it back towards his belt, and when he unthreads the last of it, when he pries open that top button and slowly tugs down his zipper, he only deepens the kiss, keeping billy from talking.
he parts his lips first, pressing the tip of his tongue forward, seeking out billy's, eyes still open as if watching for the slightest reason to believe that billy doesn't want this. it's not out of empathy, exactly, though he of course cares enough about billy to want him to enjoy this, to not want to take from him anything billy doesn't want to be taken - but marcus is prioritizing self-preservation. killing for billy, killing for willy, attacking chico, survivng for saya, it all felt like the right thing to do in the moment, just like this feels like the right way to keep billy tied to him - but if he's wrong, the consequences could be disastrous. no half-measures.
marcus has his fingertips moving down the front of billy's pants when he breaks back from the kiss, clenching his jaw and throwing even more of himself down on the line, here. he has to go in hard, if he wants billy to keep him. he drops his voice to a whisper, blinks for the first time in too long, and hopes for the best. ]
[ maybe marcus should have stayed where he was down on his knees, billy thinks, and then immediately kind of hates himself for it, because marcus is fine right next to him, too. he doesn't have to know about the weird, unexpected feeling of disappointment that settles somewhere low in billy's stomach when his imagination doesn't bleed over into real life, when marcus doesn't end up in his lap the way he'd hoped.
this is just as acceptable, and probably more appropriate. billy's getting a little carried away in his head about what any of this is going to be, letting his attraction to marcus influence his thoughts more than he knows he should. if he's not careful, this might get really fucking weird, and marcus might - spook, or freak out on him, and the last thing billy wants is to destroy one of the most important relationships he's got over a hand job and some maybe-secret feelings.
marcus pushes his knee against billy's, so billy focuses on that instead, looking at the point where the two of them touch before glancing up at marcus, who's already looking at him, head tilted, ear on his shoulder, eyelashes long. something about the closeness, the quiet between them, makes him relax a little, or - or maybe it's just the weed. whatever it is, though, billy welcomes it, letting it chase away some of his anxiety over ruining this friendship over stupid shit. his fingers itch to touch marcus literally anywhere, but despite being the one to call marcus up onto the bed with him, billy doesn't immediately shift to move his hands, keeping his weight leaned back and braced on them.
close your eyes, marcus says. for me, he says, and that's really nearly all it takes for billy to do what he's told without question. he hesitates though, eyebrows pinching together slightly with confusion and mild curiosity. he murmurs a what? almost under his breath, but marcus just sits there and waits, looking at him expectantly, so billy caves, and he blinks a couple times before shutting his eyes.
he doesn't know what to expect, if he's honest. maybe marcus will get up and leave, though billy doesn't see the point in having him close his eyes first, because he'd just hear marcus trying to leave anyway, and it wouldn't soften the blow. maybe marcus is just nervous, and doesn't feel like he can do anything with billy watching him, maybe he's one of those guys who thinks it's not gay if someone's got their eyes closed, or whatever other bullshit they tell themselves to justify or write off screwing around with another dude. who the fuck knows.
certainly not billy, that's for sure. one second he's trying to figure out what the point of this is, and the next, marcus is kissing him, and for a moment, his mind just goes blank. instinct makes him stiffen up a little, makes him turn his head away just a fraction of an inch before he realizes that's the opposite of what he wants and catches himself, tilts his head back in. it takes him a couple more seconds to register the hand on his thigh, creeping upward, his cock already semi-hard with interest, and when marcus gets his hands on billy's belt again, when he opens his mouth like an invitation, billy thinks, oh, fuck it. there's no going back. he leans in, tilting his head a little for a better angle, a soft, quiet sound catching in his throat, allowing marcus' tongue into his mouth and meeting his with a careful lick of his own.
before billy can move his own hands, marcus pulls back and breaks the kiss, fingers pushing into the front of billy's pants as he whispers some bullshit about if you want to, as if billy hasn't been fantasizing about doing weird shit with his friend for the last ten minutes, if not the last couple months. he opens his eyes, tongue darting out to wet his lips, hands grabbing at marcus' waist. it's an awkward angle with them sitting side by side, with marcus reaching into the front of billy's pants, but billy tries his best to maneuver around it, attempting to coax marcus over into straddling his lap. ]
Jesus, dude. Just come here.
[ as soon as he's got marcus where he wants him, one knee on either side of his thighs, he drops his hands lower, eyes watching his hands as his fingers pull at the front of marcus' pants, fumbling with the button, the zip, his breathing a little quicker than it has been so far up until this point. marcus being in his lap makes him a little taller than billy, so when billy eventually tilts his head back up, his nose bumps against the edge of marcus' jaw, breath hot against the underside of his chin as he murmurs, fingers curling over his waistband, tugging downward a little. ]
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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.
no subject
but marcus's smile fades, when billy touches his wrist and invites him on the bed, the raw, intimidating energy of what they're doing creeping back into him full force. he's not sure why that feels like more of an intimate invasion of billy's personal space than what he's already done, being down here on his knees, but it still feels like a step he wasn't prepared to take. that doesn't stop him from moving - he carefully rises to his feet and takes a hesitant step forward, then turns and sits down on the edge of the mattress, close enough for his knee to touch billy's. he sweeps his hand back through his hair, chuckles a little awkwardly, and finds himself hitting a bit of a roadblock. he barely managed to find his flow, and now that it's been interrupted, he's not sure what to do next.
marcus drops his head, resting his ear on his shoulder, looking at billy sideways. there's a stretch of silence, marginally more relaxed than any silence that came before it, but still a little tense. marcus looks at billy like he's trying to decide something, and when his eyes drop down to billy's neck, his throat, his chest, he figures he just needs to go for it. that's always how he wins in situations like these, right? he finds a fledgling sign of interest, a small show of need or acceptance, and he chases after it as hard as he can. billy's here for a reason - marcus is the only one holding things up.
no more half-hearting this. no more thinking about stiles, no more second-guessing what he and billy's friendship will look like when this is said and done - marcus is straight, marcus knows he's straight, but he also knows that if he takes billy to his room only to be a clumsy, sloppy lay, if he and billy even fucking get that far, then he's going to damage their relationship more than if he commits to this the way he decided he would when he first offered to jerk billy off. marcus knows he has to move in for the kill. ]
Hey - close your eyes for me.
[ when billy does as he's told - marcus will wait, eyebrows raised and patient, until he does - marcus moves closer, the subtle shift felt through the mattress dipping beneath his weight. marcus sets one hand on billy's thigh, stroking the inner sides of it with the side of his thumb, and without thinking, with his eyes hypocritically still open, he leans in, pressing his lips to the corner of billy's mouth. he moves his hand up billy's thigh, brings it back towards his belt, and when he unthreads the last of it, when he pries open that top button and slowly tugs down his zipper, he only deepens the kiss, keeping billy from talking.
he parts his lips first, pressing the tip of his tongue forward, seeking out billy's, eyes still open as if watching for the slightest reason to believe that billy doesn't want this. it's not out of empathy, exactly, though he of course cares enough about billy to want him to enjoy this, to not want to take from him anything billy doesn't want to be taken - but marcus is prioritizing self-preservation. killing for billy, killing for willy, attacking chico, survivng for saya, it all felt like the right thing to do in the moment, just like this feels like the right way to keep billy tied to him - but if he's wrong, the consequences could be disastrous. no half-measures.
marcus has his fingertips moving down the front of billy's pants when he breaks back from the kiss, clenching his jaw and throwing even more of himself down on the line, here. he has to go in hard, if he wants billy to keep him. he drops his voice to a whisper, blinks for the first time in too long, and hopes for the best. ]
You can reach me now. If you want to.
no subject
this is just as acceptable, and probably more appropriate. billy's getting a little carried away in his head about what any of this is going to be, letting his attraction to marcus influence his thoughts more than he knows he should. if he's not careful, this might get really fucking weird, and marcus might - spook, or freak out on him, and the last thing billy wants is to destroy one of the most important relationships he's got over a hand job and some maybe-secret feelings.
marcus pushes his knee against billy's, so billy focuses on that instead, looking at the point where the two of them touch before glancing up at marcus, who's already looking at him, head tilted, ear on his shoulder, eyelashes long. something about the closeness, the quiet between them, makes him relax a little, or - or maybe it's just the weed. whatever it is, though, billy welcomes it, letting it chase away some of his anxiety over ruining this friendship over stupid shit. his fingers itch to touch marcus literally anywhere, but despite being the one to call marcus up onto the bed with him, billy doesn't immediately shift to move his hands, keeping his weight leaned back and braced on them.
close your eyes, marcus says. for me, he says, and that's really nearly all it takes for billy to do what he's told without question. he hesitates though, eyebrows pinching together slightly with confusion and mild curiosity. he murmurs a what? almost under his breath, but marcus just sits there and waits, looking at him expectantly, so billy caves, and he blinks a couple times before shutting his eyes.
he doesn't know what to expect, if he's honest. maybe marcus will get up and leave, though billy doesn't see the point in having him close his eyes first, because he'd just hear marcus trying to leave anyway, and it wouldn't soften the blow. maybe marcus is just nervous, and doesn't feel like he can do anything with billy watching him, maybe he's one of those guys who thinks it's not gay if someone's got their eyes closed, or whatever other bullshit they tell themselves to justify or write off screwing around with another dude. who the fuck knows.
certainly not billy, that's for sure. one second he's trying to figure out what the point of this is, and the next, marcus is kissing him, and for a moment, his mind just goes blank. instinct makes him stiffen up a little, makes him turn his head away just a fraction of an inch before he realizes that's the opposite of what he wants and catches himself, tilts his head back in. it takes him a couple more seconds to register the hand on his thigh, creeping upward, his cock already semi-hard with interest, and when marcus gets his hands on billy's belt again, when he opens his mouth like an invitation, billy thinks, oh, fuck it. there's no going back. he leans in, tilting his head a little for a better angle, a soft, quiet sound catching in his throat, allowing marcus' tongue into his mouth and meeting his with a careful lick of his own.
before billy can move his own hands, marcus pulls back and breaks the kiss, fingers pushing into the front of billy's pants as he whispers some bullshit about if you want to, as if billy hasn't been fantasizing about doing weird shit with his friend for the last ten minutes, if not the last couple months. he opens his eyes, tongue darting out to wet his lips, hands grabbing at marcus' waist. it's an awkward angle with them sitting side by side, with marcus reaching into the front of billy's pants, but billy tries his best to maneuver around it, attempting to coax marcus over into straddling his lap. ]
Jesus, dude. Just come here.
[ as soon as he's got marcus where he wants him, one knee on either side of his thighs, he drops his hands lower, eyes watching his hands as his fingers pull at the front of marcus' pants, fumbling with the button, the zip, his breathing a little quicker than it has been so far up until this point. marcus being in his lap makes him a little taller than billy, so when billy eventually tilts his head back up, his nose bumps against the edge of marcus' jaw, breath hot against the underside of his chin as he murmurs, fingers curling over his waistband, tugging downward a little. ]
Lift your ass up for a sec.