Part 6: Exercising Their Lips
Posted 8.1.02


"If human beings don't keep exercising their lips, he thought, their mouths probably seize up. After a few months' consideration and observation he abandoned this theory in favour of a new one. If they don't keep exercising their lips, he thought, their brains start working."
--The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy


"And they're in a play with one another!" Mark's mother said for the umpteenth time. "Isn't that marvelous, Cindy?" Cindy grit her teeth and grinned at the lot of them.

"Oh, I'm sure they play with one another a lot, mother," she said with the same charming smile. His mother did not seem to pick up on subtle shift in wording. The boys, however, winced. Another grin from Cindy. And as Mark's mom began to prattle on about how wonderful it was for the boys, Mark and Roger began their own, silent conversation.

*Kill me,* Mark's look clearly said.

*Awww, it's okay, baby, it'll be over soon,* Roger's eyes replied.

*I can't wait that long! I just want to leave! It's not fair!*

*We'll be home soon and then we can pick up where we left off before.* They both smiled at each other and Mark felt Roger's foot wrap around his ankle.

*That's all you think about, isn't it?* Mark's look said quite obviously.

*Awww, I love you, baby.* Mark rolled his eyes at Roger's pathetic puppy dog look as he felt the musician's foot drift up closer to his knee.

*You didn't answer my question.* Roger smirked again and Mark couldn't help but grin a little in return. Roger's left hand slipped nonchalantly from the table and onto Mark's knee. The filmmaker almost jumped in surprise.

"Christ!" he said aloud. His mother and Cindy stopped talking and stared at him. Roger's hand was back on the table. *Jackass...* "Uh...stubbed my toe..." he muttered, his cheeks turning slightly red. Oh. Roger would definitely pay for that...

"Oh, are you alright, dear?" his mother asked fretfully.

"Fine, Ma," Mark replied through his teeth, glaring at Roger. "I'll be fine."

"First a bruise and now this! Oh, I don't know what to do with you, Mark!" she exclaimed, about to get up. Mark glanced down at his lap. He glanced up at his mother and at Roger's amused expression as he took in the sudden tightness of Mark's pants.

"No!" he shouted quickly. His mother stopped. "No, I'm fine. It stopped hurting. Yeah, uh. Dinner is great!" And once again, Mrs. Cohen returned to her seat and started talking endlessly about the meal and how it was prepared. If Mark had learned one thing in the eighteen years he had spent in this house it was how to distract his mother. Roger smirked at him again. Cindy glared. He sighed.

"Oh, we're out of salad!" Linda said, glancing at the empty bowl with a frown.

"I'll get it," Roger said quickly, anxious to get somewhere he could laugh without being looked at like a total mental case.

"I'll help," Cindy replied just as quickly, giving her brother a cool smile before following his lover into the kitchen.

Roger was chuckling to himself as he refilled the salad bowl from the strainer in the sink. Oh, he was going to have fun with Mark tonight...that is, if Mark didn't decide to make him pay for all of the tricks the musician was pulling this afternoon. Not that that would necessarily be a bad thing. In fact, it would be very good...

"You gave my brother that hickey, didn't you?" Roger turned and saw Cindy standing behind him. Roger smiled smugly, assuming she was merely admiring his handiwork.

"Maybe..." Cindy stomped down on his foot with her entire body weight and grabbed the salad from him as she left the room.

"Pervert!" she hissed back to him. Roger paused to think about this. He didn't really consider himself a pervert. Sure, he had an awful lot of sex, but it was monogamous sex, and it was good sex, so that didn't count....right?

He followed Cindy back into the room with a thoughtful look on his face. Mark noted that and realized that it was never a good sign. The last time that he had looked quite that thoughtful he had announced to half the supermarket that if he got really desperate, he was willing to try to use hair gel as lube. (The author implores you to read her deliciously amusing account of this shopping trip by clicking here.) Cindy, on the other hand, looked slightly perturbed and smug at the same time. And they had just been in a room together.

Oh no. Oh....oh no.

"Oh, look, we're out of biscuits too, I'll go get some," he said suddenly, jumping from his chair and pulling Roger after him by the ear. As soon as the door to the kitchen was firmly closed, Mark whirled to Roger. "What the hell did she say to you?" he asked, holding Roger by the arms a little too tightly. Roger looked at him for a long moment.

"Fuck, you're sexy when you're frustrated."

"Wha-" And he couldn't say anything else because his mouth had two tongues stuffed in it and it was hard to concentrate with Roger's hand down his pants.

*You know this won't end well,* Mark's mind reminded him as he kissed Roger back, grabbing two fistfuls of the musician's shirt and pulling him even closer.

*Well, I guess a pervert would do something like this...but, well, I mean it's not like we can have sex in the dining room...so it's more of a lack of options than being perverted...right?* Roger's mind thought absently as he lifted Mark onto the counter and felt the other man's legs wrap around his waist.

"Oh my!" Mrs. Cohen's mouth said as she walked into the room.

*Oh shit,* Mark and Roger's minds said as they cracked their eyes open to see Mark's mother standing in the doorway, looking quite confused as to why her son was wrapped around his best friend.

"What's going on?" she asked frantically. "You're not practicing in the kitchen!"

"Roger was choking," Mark said without thinking. After a moment he realized it was hard to hear what he said while his tongue was still in Roger's mouth. "Uh, yeah. He was choking. I was giving him mouth to mouth."

And she bought it.

And she fretted.

And Mark prayed that whatever gods were smiling down upon them on that day would continue to do so.


To Be Continued...

Get the Hang of Thursday...

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