#WOO okay- only one more drabble to go!! so so sorry these took awhile

[kpopfanfictrash]

Fine Line

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You / Mark

Rating: 18+ (smut)

Prompt: “Please put your penis away.” / Smut / It’s a fine line between love and hate. At least, that’s what you tell yourself in order to remain blindly oblivious to the fact that, despite your best efforts, you have a definite attraction to your roommate. A roommate who may or may not like you back. 

Word Count: 2,330

It’s well past 1:00 AM when you decide you can’t sleep. Rolling out of bed and heading into the kitchen. The apartment is quiet, as dark as the night outside. The gentle hum of the refrigerator is the only sound - that, and your footsteps on cold tile.

You open your refrigerator to peer inside. Squinting at the bright light spilling out to create a perfect sliver on the floor. You grab the milk, pressing it into the crook of your arm as you search for hot chocolate mix.

The approaching sound of footsteps interrupts your struggle, enough to make you jump, almost dropping the milk as you whirl around.

Mark stands framed in your doorway.

Mark Tuan, your roommate. You didn’t really know him before he moved in. He’s the friend of a friend, barely an acquaintance who moved to your city around the same time your roommate was moving out. You were left with an open bedroom and need for rent – two things Mark was able to fill.

It’s now been over a month and he’s still here. You two were quiet at first. Tip-toeing around each other as you learned new schedules and routines. 

Slowly though, you found little things about him that are annoying. Like the way he places empty milk cartons back into the refrigerator as a reminder to buy new ones. Or how he forgets his laundry is in the washer and you end up transferring it into the dryer. Or Mark’s friends, hanging out and playing video games at all hours of the night.

Around the end of week two things started to get hostile. You decided to start dropping passive-aggressive reminders of whose apartment this really was. Throwing his empty milk cartons away. Dumping his laundry on the floor when it was done. Inviting your friends over before Mark left his office, grabbing the TV first.

Mark caught on quickly. You saw him scowl when you did these things, watched his eyebrows furrow as he looked at you. That’s how you knew your message was getting across. Hiding your own smile when he’d stomp back into his bedroom. Filled with the vindication that you’d won.

At least, you were winning - until Mark started to fight back. Bringing the dish detergent into his room so you had to purchase your own. Vacuuming at weird times, hammering picture frames in the middle of work calls. Each time you’d glare at him and each time he’d look back, wide-eyed and innocent. All smiles as he quickly turned the vacuum off.

And so the cycle continued.

Now you shut the refrigerator door, wincing as your eyes re-adjust to the dark. When you can see normally again, Mark is frowning back at you. 

“You woke me up,” he mumbles.

Turning, you place both milk and chocolate on the counter. “Sorry.”

Behind you, Mark snorts. Walking over to the fridge and throwing it wide open to bathe his front in light. “Are you?”

“Do you care?” you shoot back, pouring milk into the mug.

He shuts the fridge and faces you, frowning. Mark is dressed in a plain, white t-shirt, paired with navy boxer-briefs. They hug his body, highlighting all the right places. Mark is annoying but what’s most annoying about Mark is how completely unaffected he is by you.

The first time you met, your jaw nearly dropped. With that dark, floppy hair and defined jawline, you felt more than a little weak in the knees. Medium height, medium build and wow – that face. 

Mark also worked out. The first time you came home to find him doing push-ups in your living room – well, let’s just say it was a day you haven’t forgotten. Hot and sweaty, pushing himself up from the ground. You swallow, remembering.

Mark, though – Mark never seems to see you as anything but his roommate. Someone to help him out in a tough spot but never more than friends. He’s never indicated he cares for more, which bothers you. Maybe more than you want to admit.

Pushing these thoughts from mind, you gently stir the your hot chocolate mix into your mug.

Mark watches you do this. “Aren’t you cold,” he asks, “sleeping in just that? Did you forget your sweatshirt?”

You glance down at the camisole and boy shorts and slightly flustered, you open the microwave. “You’re one to talk,” you mumble. “Please put your penis away.”

From the corner of your eye, you see Mark start. Glancing down quickly before realizing he’s completely covered. His face, looking back up, is annoyed at best.

You’re unable to hide your laughter, giggling wildly as you press start. “Made you look.”

“Super mature,” Mark groans, rolling his eyes. “Why don’t you just pants me next time?”

That thought makes you blush though, so you turn away. Not quick enough for him not to see. Something in Mark’s expression changes and he steps forward. 

“Hey,” he says, suddenly serious. “Can I ask you something?”

The microwaves beeps, signaling your drink is done. As you press the off button, you debate whether or not to look at him. “What is it?” you ask, ignoring the way your pulse pounds.

Mark takes another step. “I just want to know…” He trails off, clearly at war with himself. “I just want to know why you hate me so much? What did I do?”

Your hand drops from the microwave, thrown by his statement. After a long pause, you turn to face him. “I – I don’t hate you.”

His eyebrows shoot way, way up. “You act like you do. Always rolling your eyes when I enter the room. You never sit with me, you always go straight to your bedroom. We’ve barely spoken for more than five minutes since my arrival. Actually – this is probably the longest conversation we’ve ever had.”

Your mouth is suddenly dry because you have no way to answer him. You can’t tell Mark that the reason you avoid him is because of exactly the opposite of what he fears. You actually don’t hate him at all.

At your continued silence, Mark shrugs. “Whatever,” he says, eyes carefully roaming your face. “I guess it doesn’t matter. I just thought – never mind.”

As Mark turns to leave, you exhale. Struggling to slow your racing heartbeat. It’s better this way, better if he never knows. You reach for the microwave. Halfway there, his hand closes over yours and Mark turns you to face him. 

Mark presses into you, lips finding yours as his hands slide over your body. You gasp, lips parting as your palms press tightly to his chest. Mark’s chest, still warm from bed. He slows the motion of his lips against you, slowly pulling away.

His arms stay wrapped around you. “I’m sorry,” Mark whispers, though he doesn’t move.

You don’t move either, blinking up at him. “What was that?”

Mark’s hand drifts up to slide a piece of hair behind your ear. “I just wondered,” he breathes. “Have been wondering since I moved in, what that would be like.”

There’s a brief pause. A moment when things seem to fall in order. That annoyance you feel, that crumbling feeling of wanting what you can’t have. Those feelings are gone. Replaced by a feeling of fullness, this knowledge that all this time – Mark wanted you, too.

Instead of responding, you kiss him. Rise up on tip-toes to press your lips to his. Nothing like the insistent, needy kiss of earlier. No, this one is quiet. Soft. Almost like breathing. Mark’s hands slide tremblingly along your jaw. Cupping your face and pressing back.

The refrigerator switches on. Its sudden noise startles you enough to step backwards, taking Mark with you. His hands catch his balance on the counter, leaving you pressed between him, hovering between his legs. Mark’s hair falls forward and you find it hard to breathe.

“So you like me, too?” he murmurs, voice hopeful.

Slowly, you nod. Hardly daring to let yourself feel this way. “Yes.”

Mark cocks his head, pulling back. “Then why did you act like you hated me?”

“I, uh.” Your lips part staring back at him. “I didn’t think you liked me.”

Mark laughs quietly, winding his fingers into your hair. “Wrong.” He bends to kiss you again, hips digging into yours. 

You arch upwards, struggling to slow your racing thoughts. His arms move to your waist, then thighs as he lifts you onto the counter. Mark kisses you lazily, slowly, as though you have all the time in the world. You groan when his lips leave your mouth, sliding down your neck as his fingers flutter against your hipbones.

“I can’t believe you wear this to bed,” Mark murmurs, dropping a kiss to your collarbone. Sliding a hand beneath the camisole to slide down your arm.

You suck in your breath, shivering when the pad of his thumb brushes over your nipple. “Mark.”

“Mm?”

You take a deep breath, focusing. “I haven’t seen what you’ve done with your bedroom. You know, since you moved in.”

He stills. “My bedroom?”

You nod. 

Mark’s eyes darken. He looks up at you, waiting until you nod before kissing you again, wasting no time in wrapping both legs around his waist. His hands move to your thighs as he lifts you, then your butt. Your back hits his door as you enter, causing you to burst out laughing. Mark laughs too, voice catching in a noise that makes you giggle. 

“That’s cute,” you murmur, as he places you on his bed.

“What is?” Mark crosses his arms over his torso, pulling his t-shirt upwards.

You sit up, heart pounding. “Shit,” you say, which makes him grin.

“Your turn,” he nods.

Without looking away, you slide your camisole straps down your shoulders. Pushing far enough to wriggle free. “I think you can do the rest,” you say, leaning back on your elbows.

Mark’s eyes darken as slowly, he sits onto the bed. Pressing his weight to yours as his lips gently trail your skin. His fingers join his lips when he reaches your camisole, pulling until your breasts are free. Mark’s mouth finds first one nipple, then the other. Teasing until you’re arched on the bed beneath him, breathy moans leaving from your lips.

Either your hands or his pull your shorts down – you’re not sure which. His are next, flung to some far-off corner of the room you don’t pay attention to. Then it’s just his bare skin against yours - warm and soft and hard all at once. Your legs part, making way for his fingers.

His fingers, tracing gentle patterns. Sliding inside you, making you gasp. As his index finger moves, Mark captures your lips with his. His tongue makes the same motion as below and it’s too much – you’re shaking when he pulls away.

“I need you,” you say, pulling him closer.

Mark’s eyes regard you seriously, light in the moonlight. “Are you sure?”

You nod.

“Okay.” His hands are unsteady reaching for the condom. Mostly because as his hands are reaching, your own are touching him. Relishing in his hardness beneath your palm. Mark groans, eyes closing as he clutches the headboard above you. “Babe,” he breathes, opening his eyes. “You want me to come right now?”

Grinning, you shrug. “Maybe.”

Mark rolls the condom down, shaking his head to position himself at your center. “I don’t think so,” he murmurs, just his tip entering. “Not yet.”

And then he’s inside, sheathing himself fully. The movement makes Mark bite his lip, hands finding your legs and holding you steady. His forehead finds yours as you adjust to the feel of him inside you. Then he pulls back, pausing for a moment before sinking back into you.

Groaning, you lift your hips. Allowing him deeper, farther. Mark quietly curses, hand sliding to the back of your knee. You moan at the new angle, slow and deep with the motion of his pelvis. His hair falls across your forehead, hand interlaced with your own. He slides your arm above your head, continuing to thrust.

Your bodies move, hips circling with every touch. Before long you’re on edge. Pulling him closer, wanting every part of you together. Your lips connect, mirroring the movements as he whispers small things to you.

“That red dress, I liked that dress.” Long kiss. “When you did yoga on the balcony. Shit.” His tongue slips inside your mouth. “Your hair. Long. Just out of the shower.”

You moan as his tempo increases, other hand sliding down your body. His fingers start a gentle rhythm against you, teasing as he continues to move. You’re trembling, pressing yourself upwards as the pleasure builds.

“Mark,” you cry, burying your face in his neck. You come, shaking with the sensation as your world collapses around you. “Mark,” you sigh, slowly breathing his name to build yourself back together.

Mark lasts only a few seconds longer than you. You feel him tense inside you, muscles taut before he collapses onto the bed. Sliding from your body and pulling you against him. He’s smiling, you realize. Visible even beneath his strands of brown-black hair.

You grin, pushing these away from his beautiful face. Mark smiles back at you. For a second, you’re locked in your own world. Just the two of you;  idiots lost in a moment. Then Mark tugs you closer, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“So you hated me before,” he sighs, kissing you again. “Do you still hate me now?”

You laugh, loving the feeling of his chest on yours, rising and falling. “I never hated you,” you say. “And now I hate you even less.”

Chuckling, Mark slides his fingers through your hair. “Well, if this is how you act when you hate me… maybe tomorrow I’ll leave the milk carton empty.”

“Don’t you dare,” you scold, snuggling into him. “I still have tricks up my sleeve.”

“I’d like to see those.”

“Oh, you will.”

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