Chapter Text
It had started innocently enough, or at least that’s what Marvin told himself. Really, it had been an accident, a random alignment of the universe which had led to what should have been an equally random and trivial encounter. Really, it was Trina’s fault; if she’d remembered to pick up coffee when she’d done the groceries then he wouldn’t have had to stop at a café on his way to work, and he wouldn’t have happened to glance out the window at the park across the street at the exact moment that the jogging man had gone past.
He was, to put it mildly, gorgeous; tall, and fit, and tan, and dressed in clothes that were absolutely clinging to his form. Marvin couldn’t help but stare, he was only human after all, and really there was nothing wrong with looking. The tip of Marvin’s tongue caught between his teeth as he watched the man pause in his run, leaning against a tree to catch his breath. His cheeks are flushed with exertion, lips parted just slightly, and chest heaving, hair sticking to his forehead from sweat.
Marvin’s coffee is ready; he keeps staring.
Behind him the barista clears her throat, and Marvin nearly jumps out of his skin. He turns and grabs his drink, pointedly avoiding her gaze as he does.
It’s as he turns to leave that he sees the man looking back at him, their eyes meet through the window, and the man arches an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching in a knowing smile. It’s just a second, the briefest of interactions before the man returns to his jog, but it makes Marvin’s mouth go dry all the same.
And that was how it had started.
It would be nice to say that Marvin had gone on with his day and forgotten about the man entirely; that he’d gone home and gone to sleep holding his wife, his mind clear of thoughts of a beautiful man with long legs and a knowing smile.
This was not the case.
It would be easy to chock it up to a simple curiosity, to ignore the underlying problem and push it off to one side, as had been his well-established pattern for years. Truthfully he knew it was more than that, it was an old itch that he could never quite scratch, something that crawled up in the back of his mind no matter how often he tried to force it back down.
He had, of course, indulged that itch in the past; there were those messy, half-remembered nights in college; those mornings when he’d woken up and had to scrub his skin raw just to feel clean again after what he’d done.
But things were different now; he was different now. He had a wife, and a son; the picture-perfect family that he’d always wanted. He had the life he was supposed to, the life he’d dreamed about since he was a child. Yes, for all intents and purposes, Marvin should have been happy. So why then was he so fucking miserable?
It was three days later that Marvin found himself leaving earlier than usual for work. He stopped in the same cafe, got a coffee and a newspaper, and then he found himself a space to sit on a bench in the park, and opened the paper to read. Pretending to read may have been a slightly more accurate term, if he was being honest, because he wasn’t really absorbing the words on the page, just waiting. Sure enough, after about fifteen minutes, the jogging man appeared. Marvin glanced up over the top of his newspaper, his eyes trailing over the man’s form as he ran.
So it went on like this, Marvin would leave a bit earlier than usual for work, and he would go to that park, and he would sip a coffee with his newspaper, and he would watch the man. It was harmless, really. After all, he was only watching, it wasn’t like he was technically doing anything wrong. It would be fine, so long as nothing escalated.
It was harmless, he reminded himself, until he almost believed it.
*****
Whizzer wasn’t an idiot. Sure his intellect wasn’t exactly his best quality -to be fair, it was hard to beat his ass- and sure he hadn’t necessarily graduated from high school- though the latter had less to do with intelligence and more to do with his parents kicking him out. Still, it didn’t take a genius to figure out that the man in the park was interested in him. He wasn’t even subtle about it, always leering over the top of his newspaper, eyes darting away whenever Whizzer looked in his direction like he thought the other man wouldn’t notice.
He was handsome, certainly, though his dress sense could be improved, and Whizzer wouldn’t say he didn’t like the attention. Actually, it would be more accurate to say he reveled in it, putting just a little extra sway in his hips whenever he felt the stranger’s eyes on him.
It was a fun little game, but he found himself rapidly getting bored of it. He wanted more, he was curious about the man. But every day he sat on the bench and didn’t approach, and Whizzer quickly found himself getting impatient. Something would have to change to make the game more interesting, and if the stranger wouldn’t make the first move, then Whizzer would have to do it himself.
*****
It was after five days that it happened. It starts the same as it always has, with the jogging man observing his normal patterns; except on his second lap around the park, he disappears from view. Marvin waits for his return, but the man is nowhere to be seen. He frowns, huffing a bit, and lowers his newspaper to cast his gaze around the park. It’s at that point that Marvin nearly jumps out of his skin.
The man is leaning against the side of the bench -though Marvin couldn’t say how he’d managed to get there without being noticed-, the corners of his mouth are quirked in a sly sort of smile.
“Sorry, do you mind?” His voice is sharp, though not unpleasantly so. He swings one foot up onto the bench, gesturing to his untied shoe, which Marvin has only just noticed. “Easier when I can get a leg up, you know what I mean?”
“I-” Marvin’s eyes trail over the length of the man’s calf, past the bend in his knee to where his already revealing shorts have hiked up to reveal his toned, tan thigh. He swallows. “Yeah, right.”
“Thanks,” the man flashes him a grin that makes Marvin's stomach flip. He stoops to tie his shoe, his hair falling into his eyes almost carelessly. Marvin briefly entertains the thought of reaching out to push it back, wondering how it might feel to run his fingers through those silky strands. He turns his gaze very pointedly back to his newspaper, hoping his face isn’t as flushed as it feels.
There’s a long moment of silence before the man speaks again. “Anything interesting?”
Marvin glances back in his direction, the man still has his leg up on the bench, elbows resting on his knee, leaning close enough that Marvin catches the slightest hint of the deodorant he’s wearing, apparently unconcerned about the effect his current position is having on Marvin.
“Sorry?”
“Well, I’m not much of a current events man myself, but you must be, since you’ve been here reading that paper every day this week…” the man cocks his head to one side, one eyebrow twitching up just slightly. “Unless there’s another reason you keep coming back…” his eyes trail over Marvin as he says it, tongue darting out to wet his lips.
Marvin’s stomach drops at that. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replies carefully, not meeting the other man’s gaze.
“Don’t you?” The man’s eyes rake pointedly over Marvin’s form, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek in a way that Marvin finds incredibly distracting. “That’s a shame.”
Marvin opens his mouth to reply, but the man quiets him with a wave of his hand.
“Tell you what,” he seems to consider his words carefully, “I’m gonna go into that bathroom over there, which I happen to know for a fact is very empty at this time in the morning, and whatever you decide to do is up to you,” he casts a wink in Marvin’s direction. “Just don’t take too long to make up your mind.”
And just like that, he’s turning and walking off in the aforementioned direction. Marvin watches him go, eyes lingering on his long legs, on the deliberate sway of his hips. He chews his lower lip absently.
Not for the first time in his life, Marvin is distinctly aware of the presence of his wedding ring on his finger, the weight of it, it seems so heavy for such a small thing, trapping him in place, frozen in the moment, sitting on the park bench as he watches the handsome stranger disappear into the bathroom. Marvin waits two more minutes, then he comes to a decision; pointedly slipping the ring off his finger and depositing it in the pocket of his blazer before following after the man.
*****
Whizzer barely has a chance to greet the man before he finds himself pressed up against the metal wall of a bathroom stall, strong hands all but tearing at his shirt. Not that he was complaining, it was a pleasant surprise really, and he gasped as one of those hands came to tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging just enough to make Whizzer’s head tip back. And then all at once he’s trailing biting kisses down the side of Whizzer’s neck, driving Whizzer’s legs apart as he slots a thigh between them in an effort to get closer.
“I’m Marvin,” he manages between kisses, and Whizzer laughs breathlessly, his own hands fumbling to take off the other man’s absolutely hideous tie.
“Good for you-” he yelps as teeth sink into the junction of his neck and shoulder. “Now are we gonna get on with this? Because I’d really like to blow you.”
Marvin makes a low noise, somewhere between a growl and a grunt, that Whizzer can only assume is a rather enthusiastic yes.
*****
Afterwards, as they clumsily readjust their clothing, it slips out of his mouth. He’s not sure why he does it, he doesn’t make a habit of introducing himself to his hookups, never has, it’s easier that way. Still, there’s something about Marvin that makes him say it.
“Whizzer,” he says, and Marvin frowns at him. “That’s my name,” he clarifies.
“Right,” Marvin is still fumbling with the knot of his tie, Whizzer takes pity on him, batting his hands away before deftly redoing the knot. “Thanks.”
“For the tie or for giving you the best head of your life?”
“Glad to see modesty's among your virtues,” his eyes drop to his watch and he swears. “Shit! I’m- I gotta go,”
“Sure,” Whizzer flashes him a smile. “I’ll see you around, Marvin.”
“Right, yeah.”
*****
That should have been the end of it; a quick fuck for Marvin to get it out of his system, and then he could go back to the way things were before. He shouldn’t even be thinking about Whizzer anymore. The problem was, as it turned out, their short-lived tryst had done the opposite of helping Marvin get it out of his system. To put it plainly, now that he knew what it was to have Whizzer, he wanted more.
It had always been a problem of his, wanting too much, wanting everything all at once. He wanted to see Whizzer again, wanted it so bad it was making him sick. It was dangerous, this wanting , but he couldn’t help himself, couldn’t stop his mind from replaying the little noises Whizzer had made when Marvin touched him, the way he’d melted into Marvin’s touch.
He makes it three days before he goes back to the park.
This time Whizzer doesn’t approach him, just glances in Marvin’s direction, flashing a sly smile before making his way to the bathroom.
An invisible string snaps taught between them, tugging at Marvin’s chest, and he follows.
****
They fell quickly into an arrangement of sorts. Marvin no longer went to the park every morning, now he only went about one or two days a week. It’s far easier than Marvin would like to admit; lying about needing to put in extra hours. He’s not sure Trina believes him, but she doesn’t call his bluff either. She simply seems resigned as ever, that quiet, submissive sort of upset that Marvin has grown to hate so much. He’d rather a fight, at least that would have some passion to it.
Passion is what he feels when a man he hardly knows slams him against the wall of a dirty bathroom stall, hands tearing at his shirt with such frantic intent that a button pops off, bouncing across grimy tile. It’s hot, and it’s filthy, and it’s wrong, and it’s so fucking good that he can’t help but keep coming back from more.
Still, it’s strange, when he really thinks about it. They don’t really know anything about each other, and that should be fine, but Marvin wants more . He wants to get to know this man who can set his body on fire with just a glance, which is probably why he says it.
It’s just after their fourth such liaison that it happens, that Marvin lets the words slip casually from his lips despite the way his hands tremble. “There’s got to be a better place to do this.”
Whizzer glances up from where he’s been re-buckling his belt, his face unreadable. “Why? You got somewhere in mind?” apparently picking up on Marvin’s hesitance, he laughs. “No offence, Marvin, but you don’t exactly look like the type that could get away with bringing a guy home.”
Marvin snorts. “Better than the alternative.”
Whizzer’s eyes narrow just slightly at that. “I haven’t noticed you complaining,” he replies sharply. There’s a pause, and he purses his lips. “You got a pen?”
“Yeah, why?”
Whizzer doesn’t respond, simply holds out a hand expectantly. Marvin rolls his eyes, but complies, pulling a pen from his pocket and depositing it in Whizzer’s waiting palm. Whizzer grips Marvin’s wrist, pulling the cap off his pen with his teeth. Marvin makes a small noise of protest as Whizzer scrawls out his number a bit messily on his palm, but knows it’s not worth complaining.
“Give me a call sometime, and we’ll figure something out,” he pulls Marvin in for one last kiss, sinking his teeth into the other man’s lower lip, and drawing a small moan from the other man before he pulls back. “Don’t keep me waiting.”
Marvin scoffs at that. “You’re really making yourself worth the trouble.”
Whizzer cocks an eyebrow at that. “I think we both know I don’t have anything to prove in that department,” a pause. “Now, don’t you have to get to work?”
*****
Sure enough, Marvin calls him a few days later. It’s late when the phone rings, almost one in the morning, and Whizzer’s just gotten home, his head a bit foggy with drink. He briefly considers letting it go to the machine, kicking his shoes off and passing out with his jeans still on, but his curiosity gets the better of him and he answers.
“Hello?” His voice comes out a little hoarse.
“Sorry, did I wake you?” Marvin’s voice comes quiet through the receiver.
“Marvin?” he frowns. “Isn’t it past your bedtime, Mr. Nine-to-Five?”
Marvin huffs a laugh into the phone. “It’s Friday.”
“Okay?”
“One of the advantages of a nine-to-five is consistently having your weekends off,” there’s a slight hint of condescension in his tone. “Did I wake you?” he repeats.
“Does it matter?”
“Guess not.”
Whizzer sighs, running a hand absently through his hair. “No you didn’t, I just got in. It’s Friday, like you said.” The words are pointed, careful, but there’s a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You still haven’t told me why you’re calling me this late, got something on your mind?”
He notes with satisfaction the slight hitch in Marvin’s breath. “Might be,” then a pause. “I couldn’t get away until now.”
“Away from?” he can’t help his curiosity.
“Does it matter?” His tone is a clear mocking of Whizzer’s earlier remark. Whizzer’s too tired to push tonight, so he doesn’t.
“Guess not,” it’s not a good sign, objectively. There’s clearly something Marvin is keeping from him, still it’s not really Whizzer’s business, it’s not like he’s ever made a habit of getting to know the guys he fucks anyway.
“I wanna see you again,” Marvin says, in lieu of a response. “Somewhere proper, somewhere we can, I don’t know… talk or something.”
Whizzer bites his lip. He should say no, it goes against all his rules; makes things messy, complicated . He doesn’t do that sort of thing. He should just hang up the phone. He doesn’t, instead he laughs into the receiver, a smile creeping across his face. “What? Screwing in a dirty public bathroom twice a week not doing it for you anymore?”
“It’s not ideal,” there’s a long pause, as though Marvin is considering his next words carefully. “Besides, I feel like we hardly know anything about each other.”
“Do we need to?”
“I’d like to.”
Whizzer bites down hard on the inside of his cheek. “Alright,” he says after a moment, surprising even himself. “But if it costs anything, I hope you know you’re paying. And I’m an expensive date.”
Marvin snorts. “Yeah, fine. Dinner?”
“No,” it comes out quicker than he meant it, harsher. “I don’t do dinner, it’s too…” he struggles to come up with a better word than romantic. “Old-fashioned.”
Marvin scoffs at that. “ Dinner is old-fashioned?”
“Or corny, or whatever,” he feels suddenly a bit self conscious, reaches up to fidget absently with the hair at his nape. “Look, I just don’t do that kinda thing, okay?”
“Okay,” he wishes he could see expression on Marvin’s face, his voice isn’t quite enough to gauge his reaction. “What then?”
“Hmm…” he presses his lips together thoughtfully. “Drinks?”
“Yeah, that could work,” there’s some noise in the background, a door opening, Whizzer thinks. “Listen, I’ve gotta go,” his voice is more hushed than it had been before. “I’ll call you again soon to figure out the details.”
“Sure,” he licks his lips. “And Marvin?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m glad you called.”
“Yeah,” he hears the hint of a smile in Marvin’s voice. “Yeah I am too,” and then there’s a click and the line goes dead.
*****
Whizzer had actually put a lot of thought into picking the bar, not that you would have been able to guess by the ambiance of the place. It was kind of a dive, in all honesty, but it had been the best balance of not too far from his apartment, and not so overtly queer as to frighten Marvin off. Still, the man appeared noticeably uncomfortable regardless, his head low between his shoulders as he sits in the back corner of the booth.
It takes a bit of coaxing, but once they’ve both got a drink in them, Marvin seems to loosen up a bit more, some of the tension leaving his shoulders as he leans close to talk to Whizzer. Whizzer’s never been one for small talk, always preferred to just skip right to the good part, but he finds he does genuinely like talking with Marvin.
He’s a bit embarrassed when Marvin asks him what he does for work and he admits, a bit sheepishly that he’s working a retail job for the moment while he works on getting somewhere with his photography on the side.
Marvin surprises him by not being dismissive but showing a genuine interest. He asks if he could see some of the photos some day, and Whizzer has to hide a soft smile behind the rim of his glass. “If you’re lucky,” he says, his tone light, playful.
Marvin doesn’t say much about his own job, other than that he works in finance, one of those pricks who moves other people’s money around, Whizzer guesses. He can’t imagine doing something like that, without getting bored enough to start smashing his head off the desk. Maybe that’s just him though, he never was good at sitting still for long.
As the night progresses the conversation moves in a more flirtatious direction, and this is familiar ground for Whizzer, this is what he’s good at. He leans close to Marvin, bats his eyelashes, watches with satisfaction as the other man’s cheeks flush just a bit under the dim lights of the bar, his eyes dropping to Whizzer’s mouth when the other man licks his lips. He really is handsome, in that irritating, clean-cut, uptight way of his, and Whizzer is struck by the realisation that he wants to take his time with Marvin. This quick and messy thing they’ve been doing isn’t enough, he wants to take him home and take him apart piece-by-piece; wants to map out every inch of his skin; wants to find out what he could do if he had the man alone for a couple hours rather than their usual fifteen minutes.
He rests a hand on Marvin’s knee, and the other man jumps, accidentally spilling beer down the front of his shirt. “Shit.”
“Easy,” Whizzer grabs a fistful of napkins, dabbing quickly at the fabric. “There, all better. God, you closet queens are all so jumpy.”
“That’s not-” Marvin frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” Whizzer slides a hand up the side of Marvin’s neck, cupping the other man’s cheek in his hand. Marvin’s eyes flutter just slightly, and he leans into the touch, “you can relax. You’re safe here baby, trust me.”
Marvin’s breath hitches just slightly at the pet name. He looks almost vulnerable like this, one shaking hand coming up to clutch at the fabric of Whizzer’s shirt like a lifeline, their lips only a breath apart. Whizzer ducks his head, planting a light kiss to the place where Marvin’s jaw meets his neck, and it’s as he does he catches just the briefest whiff of it, a woman’s perfume on Marvin’s skin.
Ah. Well that would explain some things.
He must falter for a moment, because Marvin frowns at him. “You alright?”
Whizzer flashes Marvin a smug smile at that. “I’m all good, you wanna get out of here?”
Marvin looks him up and down, heat clear in his gaze. “Yeah. Do you have somewhere we can go, or…?”
He makes the decision in the moment. “Yeah, my place isn’t far from here.”
“You do that on purpose?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Whizzer casts him a wink. He stands, holding out a hand to Marvin. “Coming?”
Marvin quickly downs the last sip of his beer before reaching out to take the offered hand, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. They make the walk back to Whizzer’s apartment in relative silence, the anticipation of finally getting to be alone together weighing heavy between the two of them. He can feel Marvin’s gaze burning into him as they wait for the incredibly slow elevator -Whizzer would be damned if he’d take the stairs, he’d rather lose feeling in his legs after getting fucked, thank you very much.
As soon as the elevator door shuts, Marvin presses him against the wall, and Whizzer makes a small, pleased sound against his lips, his hands coming to rest on Marvin’s hips, hauling him closer before one hand snakes lower, sliding into his back pocket, giving his ass a squeeze. Marvin groans, his tongue sliding across the roof of Whizzer’s mouth in a way that makes him shudder.
The elevator door dings and the two men break apart breathlessly. Luckily there’s no one in the hallway to see two disheveled and blushing men come out of the elevator and make their way very quickly to an apartment. To be fair, the people in this building have likely seen far worse.
Whizzer’s hand shakes a bit as he fits the key in the lock, and he can see Marvin fidgeting at his side, both men hardly able to wait until they can get their hands on each other again.
Once inside, Marvin casts a glance around Whizzer’s apartment, his brow furrowing just slightly. “This is… nice.”
“It’s a shithole, bedroom’s this way, come on,” he grabs Marvin by the wrist and all but drags him down the hall. Marvin, for his part, doesn’t seem to mind one bit.
*****
“Christ,” Marvin murmurs, his face half-pressed into the pillow.
“Nope, still just Whizzer,” he rolls over, flashing Marvin a tired smile.
Marvin bats him lightly on the shoulder, but huffs a laugh nonetheless. He groans, stretching before sitting up and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. “I should go.”
Whizzer rolls onto his side, watching Marvin get dressed with one eye cracked open. He huffs a sigh, and then pushes himself into a sitting position, wincing at the dull ache already starting in his muscles. “If we’re gonna make this a regular thing, I should make some things clear.”
“Okay,” Marvin glances up at him from where he’d been rebuttoning his shirt, his brow furrowed.
“One,” Whizzer holds up a finger to accentuate his point, “none of that romance shit. I’m not your boyfriend, got it? We fuck, it’s fun. That’s it.”
“What a wonderful outlook you have on life you have,” Marvin chides. “But sure, that’s most convenient for me.”
“Shut up, I’m not finished.”
“By all means,” Marvin gestures sarcastically.
“The other thing, and this is important,” Whizzer pushes a few strands of loose hair out of his face. “I’m still gonna fuck whoever I want, don’t expect anything exclusive, I don’t do that shit either.”
“Yeah, fine,” a muscle in the corner of Marvin’s jaw twitches. “Look I gotta go. I’ll call you in the couple days.” He doesn’t have to say it for Whizzer to get the message. Don’t call me . He thinks of the perfume on the other man’s neck, and bites the inside of his cheek, wondering for just a moment if he may have gotten himself into something deeper than he’d anticipated.