The Choice Is Always Yours

The Choice Is Always Yours

Craig rolled his head from one side to the other, sighing with relied as vertebra after vertebra popped into place. Helm's Deep was hell. He had spent the whole night wet, tired and stuck in an uncomfortable costume. He had never been a night person and all Helm's Deep takes had strengthened his belief that he would never be one either. A loud yawn escaped his lips as he glared at the digital numbers on his wristwatch. Five fucking thirty in the morning.

The concrete scrunched ominously under his shoes. Sighing he rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. If only he were home already. Craig frowned, hesitating briefly before walking over to his car. Something white and soggy stuck out from under the windscreen wiper. Still frowning he unfolded the sodden paper, smoothing it down over the windscreen. His heart almost missed a beat.

"Hello?" Craig called softly, checking the parking lots. No, he was alone. He whirled around, almost falling over his own feet as he heard something move within the bushes. Craig closed his eyes, forcing himself to take a deep breath. Panicking had never helped anyone and it was not going to save him now. And yet the hairs on his back were prickling, were telling him that someone else was close, probably even watching him.

"Hello?" He called again, his voice breaking. Only the night answered him. Craig swallowed the lump in his throat, grabbed the paper and jumped into the car. Only after locking the door did he noticed how frantically his heart was beating. Its unsteady rhythm was a painful thunder in his chest, thudding against his ribs.

"Calm," he told himself, still scanning the surroundings, "Just stay calm, there's no one out there. You're all alone. No one's lurking outside, waiting to get you. And even if they were, they couldn’t get in. You locked the door, you are safe." But what if they used something to smash in the windows?

"No." Craig told himself again, shaking his head. He forced himself to take another deep breath. When had his breathing sped up again? He flinched as a sickeningly sweet smell suddenly assaulted him. His eyes jerked to the rear-view mirror, glued themselves to the glass, trying to make out a figure in the dark rectangle. He knew the smell. Craig gulped again. His throat was almost painfully dry. "Hello?" he croaked. "Is someone there? In the back of the car? You can come out now, it's not funny anymore," he added as an afterthought.

He held his breath, waiting for someone to show up. Endless moments crawled by and then, all of a sudden, the smell was gone. Completely. Craig closed his eyes, inhaling the now-clean air with relish. His car smelled the way it was supposed to. Slowly he pried his fingers off the steering wheel, grimacing as he noticed how white his knuckles were. The paper still clung to the palm of his left hand.

Craig's fingers were trembling like a leaf as he slowly unfolded the paper for a second time, this time with the resolve to actually read what was written upon it. The knot of apprehension in his stomach tightened. He squinted at the soggy paper, finally making out the words. His throat became even drier within seconds. It could not be.

Hello Crumbs, the message said,If you're up for a game post this note to your fridge and receive a treat tomorrow. If you want to deny me throw the note away and he prepared to pay the price. The choice is always yours.

A shiver crawled over Craig's spine as a big grin slowly spread across his face. An all too familiar heat pooled in his stomach, making him squirm in his seat. Groaning he let his head fall against the steering wheel. Gods, he was pathetic. At least the pain made it more real. All these years and one little note from Mark was still enough to give him a hard on. He had been so wring.

When he had walked onto the set on his first day he had been sure that he knew no one there and suddenly Mark had walked into the room. Stubborn, grinning, beautiful Mark. And he looked almost exactly like Craig remembered him. Except for a few wrinkles here and there.
Five years and Mark was still beautiful. Mark. The heat in his stomach tightened. Craig froze, mentally slapping himself. Arousal tingled through him as he withdrew his hand. Just a little note from Mark and here he was, jerking himself off through the fabric of his jeans without even noticing it. The fucking trousers were too tight.

He shifted again, willing his erection to fade, thinking of every disgusting thing he could think of. The result was miserable. He tried again. Gimli in drag? No way he was going to wank in his car.
Gingerly he placed the paper on the passenger seat before starting the engine and shifting into first gear. He needed to get home.


~***~


The drive home had been even more hellish than even the worst Helm's Deep night could ever have been. The sweet scent returned as he closed the car door behind him. Craig froze, rooted to the spot as he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He recognized the smell now. Vanilla, cinnamon and something indefinable yet musky. The air smelled of Mark.

Craig groaned as he found himself harden again. Great. He had managed five years without Mark and yet his cock was still in love with the other man.
"Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it!" Craig muttered under his breath, walking stiffly towards the house. He needed a drink. And his hand. Definitely his hand. And maybe a shower while he was at it. No matter in which order. Right.
Mark's smell left him as suddenly as it had come. Sighing he fumbled for his key, taking care not to brush against his erection, which was straining against his trousers. Again. Alcohol, wank, shower, sleep. Nothing else would do.


~***~


Craig shuddered in spite of the warm water running over his skin. He could still feel the burn of the scotch in his throat. He let his head fall back, laughing as the water ran into his mouth. The bottle of shower gel almost slipped from his fingers. He kicked it aside, letting the gel slowly run over his fingers and drop onto his chest.
"Oh.... fuck!" Craig's moan echoed off the tiles as the first cool drops hit his heated skin. He spread his fingers, dragging his hands across his chest. Pleasure jolted through him, running from head to toe, before pooling in his stomach again as his fingernails scraped over his hardened nipples. The smell of grapefruit and mint wafted up, curling around his senses as it mixed with the hot steam rising around him.

"Mark..." Craig gasped, one hand teasing his nipples, rolling the hardened nubs between his fingertips. Tremors ran through him as he collapsed against the cold tiles, his right hand firmly encircling his throbbing cock. Craig bucked up into his fist, forcing himself to still and take a couple of deep, laboured breaths. He wanted to draw out the pleasure for as long as he could. He pumped a few times. A groan of disapproval rose from his throat as the back of his head collided with the cold wall. Fuck. Stopping again had been almost impossible. He watched his breath form tiny, swirling puffs in the mist. His whole body was trembling, quivering with the need for release.

"Oh fuck..." Craig gasped, flicking his thumb over the head of his cock. He could smell the salty tang of sweat on his lips as pre-come slickened his fingers. "Mark..." he whimpered, starting to pump frantically, finally giving in to the need to thrust. His breath came in short, shallow gasps, the half-chocked moans drowning in the falling water. Warmth spiralled along his spine, pooling in his groin as he lost himself in the frenzied rhythm of his thrusts. With one strangled moan Craig spilled himself, watching the spurts of pearly liquid coat stain his fingers and stomach before the water carried them away.
"Oh god." Craig whispered, closing his eyes as the last waves of pleasure ran through him. He grabbed the wall, trying to find something to hold onto, as he inhaled the moist, hot air. Water and steam clung to his skin, enveloping him like the memory of a lover's embrace.


~***~


Frowning Craig stood in front of the refrigerator, fiddling with the note and the tape in his hands. Dared he tape it to the fridge? Dared he not to? And how would Mark find out whether he did it or not?

Craig's frown deepened. The bottle of scotch on the counter was calling for him. And its call grew louder with every passing second. He knew that Mark had added that last sentence for a reason.

A deep sigh escaped his lips as he stalked over to the light switch and plunged his kitchen into twilight. The fridge looked almost forbidding in the early morning gloom. Craig hesitated another second before marching up to it and sticking the note to the smooth, white surface. He stared at it for some seconds and then, grabbing the bottle of scotch as he passed, ran to his bedroom. He had to go now, before his courage decided to leave him again.


~***~


"Fuck you." Craig told his stomach, glaring angrily at his middle section. The damned thing had been doing somersaults all day and was still refusing to desist. He had managed to sleep well in spite of the note, but his nerves had been giving him hell ever since he had finally forced himself out of bed.

"Fuck." He grumbled, walking to the kitchen once more. He had already spent the whole afternoon in the kitchen, desperately trying to learn his lines. He had tried to read the script in the living room but he had been unable to finish even a single page without getting up and checking that the note was still safely attached to the fridge.

The note was just like a herd of pink elephants. The moment he decided not to think about them was exactly the moment in which they started dancing circles around him. If pink elephants were distracting, then the note was a herd of dancing pink elephant in violet skirts. Even more distracting.

With an impatient growl Craig faced the fridge, wrestled a bottle of milk from its icy grasp and kicked its door shut again. "Bloody fucking hell!" Craig yelled, jumping back as the milk swapped over the rim of the bowl he had been pouring it into. He had done it too quickly. Perhaps it would be better to take the note off and forget that he had ever found it. That would certainly be better for his nerves. Sighing he threw the bottle towards the sink, grinning as it hit the metal with a resounding clink. He needed Oreos. Now. Comfort food and coffee were always able to put him back on track. And he knew that he would need more coffee than could possibly be good for him to get him through another night of Helm's Deep. So. He sighed again. Comfort food it was. Never mind the ensuing chubbiness.

Craig sat dawn, wincing. His knees cracked as he tucked his legs in under himself, perching somewhat precariously on the chair. A chocolaty smell wafted up as he ripped the wrapping open, snatched the first two Oreos from their hiding place in the plastic and dropped them unceremoniously in the bowl of milk. They looked somewhat helpless he decided, cocking his head. Kind of tiny and forlorn. He poked the nearest Oreo, watching in fascination as it swam to the other side of the bowl. Not that it had very far to swim.

He felt his stomach begin to settle as he fished the first biscuit out. The soggy, brown mess clung deliciously to his fingers. A small hum of appreciation vibrated through him as he swallowed, savouring the taste for as long as he could. His fingertips tingled as he cleaned them, his tongue swirling around them to lap up even the last crumb. All too soon the second Oreo joined its brother and Craig found himself pouting at the now Oreo-less bottle of milk. He could still smell the hint of chocolate on the air, though. A frown marred his brows as his gaze flickered to the empty and cracked milk bottle in the sink. He still needed to do the dishes. And he needed something to eat. It would be suicide to try Helm's Deep on nothing but an empty stomach and scotch. His gaze returned to the fridge.

Nah, no pizza today. Sighing he decided to actually try to find his jacket. Food was more important than baby-sitting a note. Even if it was from Mark.


~***~


Craig frowned at the waiter in surprise as the man approached him yet again. He blinked a few times, staring irritatedly at the glass the man had just placed in front of him. Craig coughed, trying to glare at the waiter through the smoke-filled air.
"I didn't order anything else." He said coldly. "That drink isn't mine."

"Oh, it's yours alright, mate" the waiter drawled, nodding into the direction of the bar. "The big fellow over there bought it for you."

Craig turned, letting his gaze travel slowly over the four men at the bar while trying to decide which one of them could be described as a 'big fellow'. None of them was tall or broad enough.
"Which one...." Craig started, snapping his mouth shut in mid-sentence as his gaze hit the spot where the waiter had been.
"Bastard." Craig muttered under his breath, fixing the glass with an evil stare. Sighing he closed in, sniffing the clear liquid. A big grin almost immediately threatened to split his face into halves. Vodka. At least his anonymous benefactor had taste. Craig's head rolled back with a satisfied sigh as he downed half the glass in one go, concentrating completely on the liquid fire running down to his stomach. Wonderful.

A tear teased his eyelid as the stinging fire reached is destination.

"So you still like that awful stuff." Mark's voice suddenly said next to him. Craig froze on the spot, his eyes still closed and the glass still halfway raised to his lips. No fucking way. He had to be hallucinating. Maybe if he kept his eyes closed and counted slowly to ten?
Clothes rustled and a soft chuckle reached his ear as Mark slid into the booth at the opposite side of the table.

"I'm not going anywhere, Craig." The warm voice said. "You accepted my dare." He paused, leaning so close, that Craig could actually feel the older man's breath ghosting over his skin. "Will you at least look at me?"

Craig cocked his head to the left, finally cracking an eye open. For a minute he lost himself in the lines of Mark's face, his gaze following the shadows the dimmed lights painted on the other man's skin.
"Hello Mark." He said slowly, lowering the glass to the table, tracing the rim in lazy circles. "Is the vodka supposed to be my treat or do you have anything else in store for me?"

Craig shuddered with pleasure as Mark grinned at him. Heat ran down his spine. Mark's grin was even worse than Mark's smile. Still capable of giving him and instant hard-on. He licked his lips, his eyes almost automatically dropping to Mark's mouth, following the deliciously curved line of his lower lip, gluing themselves to the glittering sheen pf moisture on the other lip. Mark smiled again, licking his lips in return.

The sight sent another tingle of aroused warmth to Craig's already throbbing cock, which was pressing uncomfortably against the seams of his jeans.
Craig's breath hitched as Mark's fingers cupped his own, taking the glass from his trembling hands. He swallowed audibly, unable to look away as Mark downed the rest of the vodka in slow, deliberate gulps. Craig's mouth went dry and he desperately licked his lips, his eyes now fixed on Mark's bobbing Adam's apple. He longed to attach himself to that tender spot of skin, to lick the sweaty smell of sex from Mark's skin and taste the other man once again.

The remaining ice cubes clinked incredibly loud against each other as Mark put the glass down, strong fingers gliding off the glass ever so slowly. With another wink at Craig Mark stood up, turned around, stood perfectly still for a moment and then walked over to the men's room.
Craig forced himself not to groan out loud as he watched Mark walk, no, he corrected himself, strut across the room, cold cigarette smoke twirling around his legs. Craig's eyes followed the greyish swirls, travelling up over shapely legs till they finally fixed on two almost perfectly rounded, denim-hugged ass cheeks.

"Ohgodohgodohgod...." Craig stifled a moan; his eyes incredibly wide as he slammed some money onto the table, grabbed his jacket and, holding it strategically over his crotch, walked stiffly after Mark. He could feel the heat blossoming on his cheeks as one of the few patrons gave him an appraisingly lingering glance. He was sure everyone could see straight through the jacket, could see exactly how hard he was. Halfway there.
He forced himself to take a deep breath and concentrated on the door to the restroom. Almost there now. He only had to manage not to stumble over his raging hard-on somehow.


~***~


"Mark, what are you..." Craig started to ask, when all air was suddenly knocked out of his lungs. A low moan escaped from his lips as he was slammed hard against the cold tiles of the wall.

"Hello Craig." Mark's face was mere inches from his, lust-darkened, brown eyes glittering down at him and vanilla and cinnamon filling his nostrils.
"I was glad to see your decision. Now," He positively purred, one hand pinning Craig's wrists against the wall, "You've really been good enough to deserve a treat."

"I have?" Craig arched into the other man's touch, Mark's free hand heavy and hot on his shirt. He could feel the burning outline of every finger, every wrinkle on his palm, could feel them burning into his skin.

"Oh yes, you have," Mark's hand came up to Craig's face, his index finger gingerly resting on Craig's cheek before stroking along the smaller man's jaw. "But have you learned your lesson?"

"My.. what?" Craig gasped, staring at Mark through half-lidded eyes. "There was a lesson?"

"Yes." The corners of Mark's mouth twitched. "There was. And still is." He leaned in for a slow, simmering kiss, sucking and nibbling along Craig's lower lip. "This time the choice is always yours." Mark whispered, drawing back and gazing intently at Craig."
"Do you want me? All of me?" He added almost as an afterthought. "No holding back. No secrets and sneaking around this time." Mark paused, frowning slightly. "Do you still want me? Do you think you can learn to love and trust me again?"

"Yes." Craig's broken whisper echoed eerily off the cold, white walls. "I think I can."

"Good." Mark's grinned was laced with relief. Slowly he released Craig's hand, pressing a kiss to the inside of both palms. "Because I never stopped loving you."

Craig blinked, staring at Mark through a haze of bemusement and lust. "You never stopped loving me?"

"Never." Mark said solemnly. "Now," a mischievous smile suddenly lit his eyes, "I believe there is the small matter of a treat I still owe you..."

"There is indeed," Craig rasped out, pushing himself off the all and into Mark's waiting arms, "And I think the choice is mine."

"It is." Mark agreed, eyes fixed on Craig's kiss-swollen lips.

"Okay." Craig grinned, walking over to a stall and holding out his hand, waiting for Mark to follow him. "I think I know what I want."

"And that would be?" Mark pushed down Craig onto the id of the toilet, closing and locking the door behind them.

"You. Or rather your lips." Craig clarified, eyes unfocused but never leaving Mark. "Your lips on my cock, sucking me dry while I try not to scream down the place with pleasure."

"I think I like your idea of a treat." Mark rasped out, already sinking to his feet in the cramped-up space.

Craig moaned as nimble fingers undid his zipper and slipped into the waistband of his jeans, pulling down trousers and boxers alike.

"Mark..." Cool air hit his cock as it sprang free, standing thick and throbbing between them.
"Please..." Craig spread his legs, his head lolling back as he rocked his hips at Mark. He could feel short puffs of hot air tantalizing his sensitive skin, swirling around his already leaking cock.
"Oh god..." Craig whimpered as Mark ran his tongue experimentally along his straining shaft. So good. Not enough. Never enough.

"Please Mark... now..." he gasped, "Not long...." He bit his lips, tasting blood. "Ohgod..." A strangled groan reverberated through his chest a Mark kissed the head of his cock, sucking a few drops of pre-come from his slit. "More..." he demanded, hips rocking helplessly.

"Relax...." Mark whispered, sucking one of Craig's balls into his mouth and toying with it with his tongue. "I want to make this good."

Craig screwed his eyes shut, clenching and unclenching his fists at his sides, before finally burying them in Mark's shoulders. "Mark, Mark, Mark..." he chanted helplessly, his breath hitching violently. Mark's chuckle vibrated around his ball, causing him to gasp out in a choked-off sob.
Pleasure ran through his whole body, pooling in his groin. His toes curled. Mark was still kissing him, latching onto the tender skin next to Craig's cock in a bruising kiss. Craig's hips rocked wildly, his hands tugging relentlessly at Mark's hair.

"Stop... teasing..." he managed to gasp out, some small part of his brain telling him that Mark was going to leave a hickey on his perineum. "Oh god...." The thought of Mark claiming him in that manner was almost too much.
"Suck...." he growled, "Now!"

Mark grinned up at him, running his hands over the insides of Craig’s thighs. "Are you sure?" He blinked almost innocently. "We can still stop."

"Now!" Craig repeated, fingers clawing hard enough to pull out a few of Mark's hairs. He never noticed the silken strands falling onto his thighs, gliding over his sin and falling to the ground, where they rested in a tangled heap. "Fucking cock-tease...." He yelped; immediately biting his lips again as Mark finally went down on him, taking his whole length in one go.

"Jeez...." Craig licked his tortured lips, frantically rocking into the wet heat around him. Finally. So good. So good and so Mark. His senses were unable to focus on anything but Mark. His whole body tensed with just a few, sow sucks, emptying itself into Mark.

White light exploded before Craig's closed eyes as he jerked up into Mark's mouth before collapsing into a panting, boneless heap.
"Gods.. Mark..." he whispered, trying to catch his breath as he looked down. Mark still had his mouth on him, was still lapping up the last beady drops of his come. He felt his already flushed face heat even more as he watched his limp, sated cock slipping out of Mark's mouth. A pleasant tingle accompanied the afterglow. He knew he would have gotten hard again if he had been able to.

Craig smiled dreamily at Mark when the other man leaned in for a kiss. He opened to the tender pressure, groaning into Mark's mouth as he tasted himself on the other's tongue. Slightly bitter, but incredibly good. And mixed with Mark.

"I think I still love you, too." He whispered as they finally broke apart for air.

"I meant everything I said." Mark answered, his hands carding themselves through Craig's sweat-dampened hair. Craig leaned into the touch, eyes fluttering close.
"Do you want to take this home?" Mark asked quietly.

"Gods, yes." Craig closed his eyes, his head resting comfortably against Mark's chest. "As soon as I can move again."

"All right." A chuckle rumbled through Mark's chest. "We have to work on your understanding of keeping quiet, though."

Craig merely nodded against Mark, too tired to do anything else.

Finis