"That's..."

I waited impatiently for Mark to say something, anything that'd put me out of my misery. I'd given him the out he needed. Now he could leave and blame me. For wanting too much. For becoming obsessed with someone I barely knew.

For falling in love.

"That's..." he repeated with a curious glitter in his feral looking gray-blue-green eyes. "...flattering."

Flattering? He was flattered by my interest. What was this, a job interview? What was I, a prospective employee? Huh. Maybe I was. After all, Mark Renton seemed like quite the little entrepreneur and I had encroached on his turf, no matter how accidentally.

Don't get me wrong. I wasn't angry. Or even hurt. I mean, how could I be? I wasn't stupid.

I was fucking crazy. Because whatever this feeling was, it wasn't going away, and I still wanted him. Even though he was probably thinking of a polite way to say goodbye.

"So..."

This was it. The proverbial kiss of death. I didn't realize I was backing away from him till my back hit the door behind me.

"You want us to be like...*exclusive*?"

God. If I didn't know any better, I would swear he sounded almost unsure of himself. Mr. I've Got an Answer for Everything was disturbed by something I said? I didn't know I could do that.

I wanted to do it again.

"Yeah," I said, cursing the hoarseness in my voice that betrayed how much that meant to me.

"That's pretty scary."

Ouch. He was unfailingly honest. But so was a Boy Scout. And Mark Renton was definitely not one of those.

"I'm not asking you to marry me, Mark," I snapped.

"Good. Cause I mean, as a proposal goes, it more or less sucks, y'know?"

"Thanks," I replied sarcastically.

"How can you be offended by the answer to a question you never asked?" Mark spoke indecently slowly, and I was struck once more by how his softly-accented voice poured over me like honey.

He was too close, and I had nowhere to go. He must have sensed my inner agitation because his hands crept into my hair and set up a restless rhythm there. "I dunno why you'd want me to actually hang around. Seems like I'd be the one getting the better half of the deal, if you ask me. But..."

Again he paused. Again I waited anxiously for a word of confirmation. Or denial. So I could go on living my life. Or some semblance of it. Because it wouldn't be the same without him. I didn't even have to go there to know that.

"What do you want me to say, Alan?"

"What..." I began again. "Whatever you want to say, Mark," I whispered, wishing I could mean it. I didn't want him to turn me down. It didn't matter that I never put an offer on the table to begin with. All that counted was that he stayed.

"I want to fuck you again," he murmured in my ear. I could feel his lips caressing my earlobe, and I thought, That's it, I'm going to melt and make one hell of an interesting puddle on the floor.

"Th-that could be arranged," I said in my best imitation of my normally cool, calm and collected self. "Only..."

He growled against my neck, and I closed my eyes in an effort to remain focused. "Conditions? We don't even have a fucking relationship yet, but you want to make conditions?"

He sounded vaguely outraged, and I supposed that was a good thing. It meant that he was engaged on some level other than sexual. Not that sexual wasn't the be-all and end-all of existence for me right now. "Just one," I managed to choke out.

"Oh, yeah? And what's that?"

"You don't screw anyone else but me," I said breathlessly, already contemplating the consequences as well as the obvious rewards of that.

He pulled back to study my face, and as much as I bemoaned the loss of his flesh pressed against mine, I enjoyed the look of cautious optimism in his eyes. "I steal the covers."

"I noticed."

"I squeeze the toothpaste from the middle."

"I think I can get used to that."

He grinned. "I'll probably fuck you stupid the first week."

I stopped breathing. Then I started again. Noisily.

"You don't have to, y'know."

"Well, I guess it wouldn't be too hard," I said.

He rubbed up against me with more enthusiasm than finesse. "Feels hard enough to me," he purred in that low sensual Scottish burr.

"That'll never fit," I breathed into the suddenly minuscule space that separated our mouths.

"Wanna bet?"

With that, he turned me around to face the door. One flick of his wrist and my pants came expertly undone. He was so close, I could feel him unzip his jeans. A moment later, his hot, swollen cock slid between my cheeks, wetness already leaking from its tip. I jiggled agitatedly against the door, my own erection nearly as impressive as his. His fingers were cold and slick with lube as they probed inside me. I didn't want to wait. I wanted him now.

"In me. Now. Please." I was having trouble speaking. My mouth felt completely disconnected from the rest of me, and I wanted nothing more than to come.

Somehow he understood my impassioned attempt at speech, incoherent as it seemed. He abandoned his attempt to penetrate me with his fingers and coated his dick with lube. With a defiantly heartfelt sigh, he spread me and entered me, almost in one smooth movement.

In spite of the lube, I burned. I felt impossibly full and tight, and if I was honest, a little bit sore. But when I considered exactly how I got that way, I started to push back eagerly. I braced myself on my hands, willing Mark to thrust deeper and harder, and he obliged as if he'd read my mind.

I could barely control my breathing now. But I went over the edge the moment his teeth sank into my shoulder, marking me as his. He ground his hips against my buttocks and came with a tortured sound that was half groan, half whimper.

I'd never come with that kind of intensity, not even the first time we fucked. Maybe it was because now I knew that I loved him. Maybe it was because now I knew that he loved me.

That was the true meaning of that little inarticulate noise that he made when he came. He didn't have to put it into words. His body knew mine intimately, and what it had to say was convincing on every possible level.

He slid out of me and sank down on the bed, taking me with him. I sprawled across him, my body instinctively shaping itself to his, and he didn't even seem to mind how sticky we were.

"You still want me to stay?"

"Was that an audition? Think we could get better if we practiced?"

"Christ, if things got any better, I think my head would explode," Mark groused goodnaturedly.

"So...does this mean you're going to stay?" I asked, pretending that the wrong answer wouldn't fucking kill me.

And I swear to God, he looked right into my eyes and said as plain as day, "Kiss me."