plaguedrat | [for Marius

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marius pontmercy

[for Marius - cont.]

Rat laughed, low and throaty, before letting the sound get swallowed up in the kiss. His hips pressed down against Marius', not quite grinding so much as making him aware of their closeness, the pressure. Skin touched skin, both of them lean and warm. It wasn't the same as Grey, there was no replacing him. Rat was fully aware that it was Marius he was kissing, that it was Marius who was filling him with need.

"I won't scare you."

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Marius can't remember the last time he slept so soundly; surely not for some months, now. The process of awakening the following morning, however, is anything but. He groans as the morning light pricks its way beneath his eyes, all but glued shut. When he manages to find the strength to open them, he winces, greeted next by a pounding headache and his stomach in the midst of its own rebellion.

That's when he recognizes the voice next to him, just as he realizes that there is, in fact, a warm body snuggled up to him.

"Oh..." He gapes a bit, blushing crimson as last night comes back full force into his head. "Shit."

"Water," Rat muttered, deliberately ignoring the real source of Marius' distress. "Water and pain killers." God his head felt heavy. Even as he said it, Rat didn't do much to leave Marius' side while he fumbled in the nearby minibar.

Two bottles landed on the bed between them. "Drink."

His head pounds and his mouth feels as though someone stuffed notebook paper within it overnight. As much as he might want to move, Marius finds himself all but kept in place by his aching head and a stomach all but promising mutiny if he makes the wrong movement.

Gradually, he turns himself on one side to reach for the water bottle Rat tossed onto the bed. He groans as sharp pain shoots through him; his hand shakes a bit as he manages to get the cover off to take a deep, nourishing gulp of water.

All the while, figments of last night keep swirling around in his brain, only adding to his dizziness.

"Shit," he croaks, repeating himself as he tries to ignore the rising nausea within him.

Rat curled back into bed, forgetting to keep his back out of view in favor of hiding his face in the darkness of his pillow to block out any light. Hung over, still tired, and aware of the realities seeping back in, he enjoyed the last moments of Marius' warmth before the inevitable happened and the other man ran out in a panic.

"If it's at all reassuring," Rat said, still muffled through the pillow. "You have a very impressive grasp of poetry."

It was woefully off mark.

Marius' instinct is to run out in a panic; his head swirls and aches at once, and he would like to be able to clear it. His body sticks to the sheets around him, and he can feel his legs tangled in the bottom half of them. He knows that to indulge in his instincts would be to send himself falling flat on his ass. And then make him lose what little substance he has in his stomach.

"I could say the same to you," he replies, unsure of what else to say in this situation. He still can't believe what he did last night.

He glances at Rat, stuffing his face into a pillow, and decides to follow suit.

But not before he catches sight of his back.

"What happened?" He asks, before he can think not to.

That, despite the ache it earned him, made Rat's head snap up. Something in his gut turned over sickly. "You're fucking with me right?" Rat asked. "You remember exactly what we did."

It was as if he was trying to make himself believe that.

He winces at the other man's tone, the sharpness of it cutting through to his aching head. He could lie, he ponders briefly. But he has always been a terrible liar, and with his hangover currently rendering him motionless, he doesn't want to spare the energy for it.

"Yes," he says. "I remember everything. I was talking about your back - what happened?"

Rat cursed and flipped onto his back, hands on his eyes. He'd forgotten himself. "I was burned. I don't want to talk about it," he snapped, digging his hands further into his eyes. "Don't worry, it's not catching."

"Okay," Marius winces again, and his stomach churns. God, please don't let me be sick, he prays, desperately. "Just...stop snapping, please." He wishes he could burrow himself into the pillow and not emerge for...a very long time.

"Water," Rat repeated before going for a different tack and putting the pillow over his own eyes instead. No more whiskey. No more drinking. If his head had been on remotely straight, this would never have happened. Should never have happened.

"Food..." He needed to eat but the idea of food was simultaneously revolting.

Marius still can only manage tiny sips from the water bottle at most, in between blocking his face from the outside light. His thoughts are a mess of confusion; he should never have drunk so much to begin with. He shouldn't have gotten into such a situation. But more than that, he shouldn't have enjoyed it as much as he did. Because, even in the midst of his turbulent stomach and aching head, he still recalls the shivers of pleasure he'd enjoyed with Rat. He tries not to linger too long on that thought.

And then Rat mentions food, and Marius' stomach clenches in preparation for the inevitable.

"Fuck," he swears, stumbling out of bed to try and make it to the bathroom. His eyes screwed shut against the blinding light, however, he doesn't see where he's going, and collides with the wall, nose first.

"Damn it!" He yelps, falling back flat on his ass and wincing at the pain blossoming in his nose.

But, oddly enough, it distracts him enough to keep him from getting sick.

Under the pillow, Rat heard a thump and cursing before yet another thump. Even though his head ached, he sat up, staring at Marius sprawled out on the floor, resisting the urge to laugh and smirking more than was probably fair.

"Don't worry your pretty little head," he said, looking around for his shirt and zipping up the pants he'd never fully removed. "I'll go."

Dragging a hand down his face, he stood up and tossed the hotel key to Marius. If he could just endure another hour, he'd be home.

It's only as Rat speaks again that Marius realizes he is fully sprawled out on the floor, entirely naked, having fallen out of his pants after rolling out of bed.

He swears in French this time, covering his face with his hands as he burns bright red in embarrassment.

"Have a good morning?"

It's as awkward as any other turn of phrase he's come with over the years, but it'll do. He catches the hotel key with another grimace.

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[for Marius - cont.]

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