in which the narrator tries her hand at presmut and fails.

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mark's bed always has been the comfiest place to lay, in jacks opinion.

especially when he's not the only person occupying it.

"jack, can you move? my arm is numb."

"no."

jack huffs, childishly, crossing pale arms over his chest as mark sighs.

"jack, move."

the irishman doesn't respond.

"jaaaaack, please?"

there's only a giggle in response.

jack knows he's being difficult, and thinks to himself;'what's the fun in doing what people say'.

mark knows there's no way of getting him to move, and he might as well resort to plan b.

jack doesn't know what's hit him, and before he can save himself, marks using all of his strength to roll him off the bed and onto the floor.

"mark, you dick! i was comfy."

there's a flash of green, and a bout of laughter before mark has jacks whole body weight on his stomach and they're launched into a round of playful wrestling.

"payback, bitch."

"oh, you're so dead."

they're a mess of limbs in less than seconds, with the duvet wrinkled and pillows being used as shields. and it's all just a blur of green hair and tan skin and dark clothing.

it's more aggressive now, harsh hands and knees pinning one another to the mattress before they're at it again, causing friction between them both.

neither will stop until they win.

marks pushing his hands roughly over the youngers shoulders, holding him tight to the mattress and smirking down at him. jacks face is burning pink and scattered with blotches of red where marks knuckles have bumped a little less softly against his skin.

and there's a plan forming in marks head.

"you look good beneath me."

jack doesn't know how to respond, and he feels himself start to flush, and grow hot. marks still smirking, one knee between the youngers legs and his hands moving slowly down the irishmans chest.

he's confused - curious even - as to why marks all of a sudden become so...dominant and intimate.

but something's screaming on the inside, and telling him that he shouldn't stop.

because maybe jacks enjoying it.

maybe he likes the way marks looking at him, with glazed over and hungry eyes, smiling almost belittlingly at the boy who's too afraid to move.

and maybe he likes the way marks hands roam his torso, with gentle fingers ghosting over his chest and sides, barely touching but still there.

and maybe he likes the attention.

jack hasn't had another's hands on him like this before, venturing lower, holding him down and making him so riled up and needy.

but maybe that's only because they're marks hands.

"m-mark."

"yes seán?"

marks using his real name, which is only ever used when he's begging scolded or when the school are sending letters home. and jacks washed over with need and want at the sound of it.

"what-what are you doing?"

the youngers voice is barely there, a mere whisper of what it once was before and drained of all confidence.

mark would rather avoid the question, because honestly he doesn't know what he's doing, and he too blinded by want to care. he enjoys the site of jacks eyes, blown out in bliss and need and he has the urge to make him want more.

so instead he leans closer to jacks face, ghosting cold breath over his neck as the younger shudders, and he's speaking low into his ear.

"well, what would you like me to do?"

upon hearing the sharp intake of breath, and soft sigh of surprise leave the youngers lips, mark chuckles, and ghosts his lips against the skin behind jacks ear.

"are you going to answer me, or am i going to have to figure it out by myself?"

heavy breathing is all that follows.

because jacks afraid to talk, and answer, and beg because what if this is all some sick joke? what if mark just wants something to hold against jack, and blackmail him with?

what if mark doesn't want jack as much as jack wants mark?

"you can't stay silent forever, seán."

there's a momentary pause before marks pressing his lips softly against jacks jaw where it meets his neck. and callous hands are trailing further and further down the irishmans body, touching skin beneath the boys shirt that's riding up and resting at the youngers hips, to stop him from moving.

and jacks whimpering lightly and arching his back as each kiss lay on sensitive skin gets harsher, and rougher, and there's patches of deep purples and red that stain white porcelain with marks of lust and greed.

"m-mark, please."

the elders hands move from jacks hips to beside his head, holding himself above the younger as he smirks lightly.

"i win."

"w-what?"

"i told you you couldn't be quiet forever."

jack glares through half lidded eyes, his iris swirling deep blue, and sprinkled with glints of pleasure and want.

"d-did you really just...do that?"

"do what? i didn't do anything, seán."

mark shifts position, now rolling over to lay beside the flustered boy. he props his elbow on the pillow, holding his head up as jack turns to send a swift frown the elders way.

"you're a fucking tease, fischbach."

"and what are you gonna do about it?"

"this."

jack tackles mark, the korean boy on his back with the irishman straddling his lap. and there pale hands on the elders chest, pushing down so he can't move and jack matches the cocky smirk that mark wears.

"you want to fight again? you know i'm gonna win, mcloughlin."

"i was thinking more, this."

marks taken aback by jacks sudden confidence, and the pair of lips that lock with his own slightly-parted ones.

but he rests, and feels himself soften as he pushes a hand through green locks and rests the other on the small of the youngers back.

and they kiss, gently at first, but both growing hungry for more. and they speed up, and add passion and lust and soon enough they're interrupted by the constant buzz of marks ringtone.

they part, panting with a string of saliva connecting their lips.

"you gonna answer that?"

"no."

and they're back at it.

and the buzzing eventually is drowned out by other sounds, and marks housemates don't question it.

because it's about time.

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i really don't know what i was going for with this, i literally thought of this in my maths exam. i don't know if i'm ever gonna write more of this.
-a