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sickrentheadcanons · 4 years

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1 New Message - Chapter 2

It was fair to say that Simon Williamson was unfamiliar with the concept of guilt. He had never been one for apologies, nor was he a blame-shifter; if there was one thing that could be said for Simon, he was always happy to hold his hands up and admit what he had done but would he apologise? Never. Guilt was not a regular feature in Simon's emotional cycle. Shit happens, you deal with it; 'The gig goes on.' but then so had his Grindr correspondence with Mark.

They spoke for hours, days, weeks even; both men completely and utterly enthralled with one another. Simon would skirt around the topic of “Face pics” and they would text about their day, what they were making for dinner, what their plans for the weekend were (Simon always quick with a lie... but then what was new?). Sometimes Simon wasn't sure why or how he had ever missed this side of Mark. He was sweet and clever and funny, genuinely funny. Simon had never found Mark funny, not really; he was just less of an irritating cunt than the rest of their friends. Simon tolerated Mark, or at least that's what he told himself as he sprawled across their sofa, phone in hand while he scrolled through their most recent conversation.

Mark was working another late shift behind the bar at The Mousetrap and while Simon would usually take advantage of an empty flat by finding a lassie to keep himself occupied, tonight was different. Tonight he was bored, bored of everything and everyone but Mark. He missed the wee ginger fuck and he'd only been gone two hours. Two hours wasn't that long and Simon was far from needy (regardless of what his Ma would tell you) but that was still two hours of radio silence on Grindr; not a single message since Mark had told David his shift was about to start, signing off with an amorous “Don't miss me too much.”

Si was fairly certain that he had learned more about Mark Renton (the real Mark Renton) in the past two and a half weeks than he ever had during their time together as friends. He had learned that Mark was a Pisces and actually believed in all that astrology bollocks, that his favourite colour was Orange but he couldn't stand the fruit. He learned that Mark suffered from anxiety, that he was medicated for it and that he never really felt comfortable enough to open up about it; not to his mates, not to his da, not to anyone. That one had hurt and Simon couldn't deny it. He knew he had no right to be offended, not when he was betraying Mark's trust the way he was but he couldn't bring himself to pull away now; not after weeks of sharing jokes, stories and intimate details about their... well, Mark's life. Almost everything Simon had divulged to Mark had been completely fabricated, too scared of being caught in the lie and held accountable; finally, a transgression that Simon Williamson wasn't completely nonchalant about having committed.

Simon had given up all hope of hearing from Mark for the evening, deciding instead to stop staring at his fucking phone and go to bed where he could at least mope somewhere warm and comfortable. He laid in the dark, eyes closed while his brain worked overtime; thoughts of how Mark was getting on at work at the forefront of his mind.

Was he enjoying his shift? Was he missing their conversation as much as Simon was? Was he thinking about 'David' at all? Was he flirting with anyone? 'Is the Mousetrap even ae buftie bar?' Simon wondered. He had never thought to ask; never really had a reason to.

He grabbed his phone, intending to google 'The Mousetrap, Leith' when curiosity took hold and he found himself opening Grindr for what he was sure was the 100th time that evening. It was becoming habitual and Si blamed his addictive personality. A smirk tugged at the corners of Simon's mouth when the app greeted him with a new message from Mark.

Mark>> Hope you're no missin me too much? ;-p

What if a am? <<David

Mark>> Well then you'd be in trouble.

Trouble? <<David

Mark>> Aye.

Whys that? <<David

Mark>> Because I told you not to.

Oh aye? And what ye say goes does it? <<David

Mark>> Aye. It does.

Simon felt his stomach flip. Now this was a side of Mark that he had certainly never seen. Assertive and dominant were not words that Simon would ever associate with Mark Renton but Mark, Simon was quickly learning was full of surprises.

Ye dinny seem like the authoritative type, Mark. <<David

Mark>> Let me hear ye say that with my cock down yer throat.

Fuck. They had never done this before; this was new fucking territory and Simon was just thankful that nobody was there to witness the violent shade of red that had instantly flushed his cheeks. 'Wit the fuck am a supposed tae say to that?' He swallowed hard and worried his lower lip between his teeth as he considered his options. He should have ended it there, deleted the profile and the app and let David disappear into the night but that could have potentially hurt Mark and Simon didn't want that. He could have just brushed the comment off, made a joke of it and hope that Mark wouldn't press the issue any further.

'Or... a could just reply? Give the needy wee cunt a bit of what he's after and then no ever think aboot it ever again. It's no like he'd even ken it's me.'

Mark>> David??

Reclining back against the headboard, Simon drew a deep breath and typed out his response.

Sorry. A wis just a bit surprised. <<David

Mark>> Did I make you uncomfortable? Shite, sorry.

Naw. Nothin like that. Just... curious? <<David

Mark>> about?

The size a wit i'd be choking on ;) <<David

Mark>> Are ye askin' me for a dick pic, David?

Simon wasn't sure. Was he? Why had he said that? Of all the fucking things... he was curious about the size of Mark's cock now? 'A mean aye, ad be lyin' if a said ad never thought aboot it; Diane seemed keen enough aw those years back. A bit a curiosity is normal like... a just wanty see wit aw the fuss is aboot.'

Wit if a am? <<David

Mark>> Be a good boy and ask nicely.

Si could feel the undeniable pressure of a rapidly forming hard-on against his thigh as he read Mark's response; surprised at the dizzying affect the words had on his body. He cast a glance down at his tented boxers and sighed in defeat. 'Traitor.'

Please may a see yer cock? <<David

Better? <<David

Mark>> Much better.

Mark>> I've got tae get back to my shift now but if you can wait until the morra I'll do you one better? ;)

What does that mean? <<David

Mark>> You'll see.

Mark>> Talk later. X

And with that Mark was gone. The little green dot beside his name turning grey and leaving Simon both confused and painfully hard. 'Fucking tease.' With a frustrated groan he threw his phone back down onto the bedside table and shoved a hand inside of his boxers to wrap around his aching cock. 'It's no gay if a don't think aboot him... or what his cock would look like while am on ma knees in front of it, just waitin' fer him to give it tae me.. beggin' him fae it while he teases me; or what it would feel like, aw heavy against ma tongue while he fucks ma mouth and tells me how fuckin' braw a look suckin' him off. That a wis made to suck cock... made for him' Simon's breath hitched and his legs instinctively spread wider as his hand tightened around his leaking cock, hand speeding up to stroke himself faster 'Made to be his good boy... Fuuuck!'

with a stifled moan Simon came, spilling across his hand and into his own boxers.

He had laid there; sticky, wet and utterly blissed out. He would have been embarrassed at how quickly he had cum if it wasn't for the fact that he currently had bigger things to worry about... like the fact that he apparently wanted Mark Renton to skull-fuck him into oblivion all of a sudden. 'Wit the fuck am a meant tae do with that information? Is no like a can tell him.. Oh, hi Mark; how wis work? Oh, aye? Good wis it? Don't suppose you'd mind bein' a pal and lettin' me choke on yer cock?' Simon groaned outwardly; the short lived afterglow of his orgasm slowly subsiding and giving way to annoyance and frustration. He peeled away his soiled boxers, using them to clean himself up before tossing them to the floor where he didn't have to look at them and be reminded of what he'd just done... or of how badly he wanted to do it again.

#Trainspotting #T2 #Simon Williamson #Sick Boy #Mark Renton #Rent Boy #SickRent #Slash #Fanfiction #Jonny Lee Miller #Ewan Mcgregor #m/m

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sickrentheadcanons · 4 years

Text

1 New Message

Simon had desperately tried to mind his own business when Mark's phone chimed obnoxiously from the kitchen counter top of their now fully co-habituated flat. He cast a curious glance in the general direction of the iPhone that Mark had carelessly abandoned ten minutes prior in favour of a shower. “Clean body, clean mind, Si,” He'd called over his shoulder on his way into the bathroom. “Ye should try it.”

Under any normal circumstance he wouldn't give two shits about what Mark Renton's few and far between friends had to say but three texts in seven minutes was enough to pique even Simon's interest. He filled the kettle, fished himself and Mark a mug from the cupboard and came to rest casually against the counter beside Mark's phone where he definitely was nottrying to talk himself out of checking his best friend's notifications. 'Since when dae I give a fuck what the cunt gets up tae?' he had reasoned with himself only to counter his own point seconds later with a 'could be his Da. Could be an emergency like; a better check. Just incase.' and with that Simon found himself pressing a thumb to the side of Mark's phone, eyes scanning the screen as it illuminated.

4 new notifications:

Screen Time: Weekly Screen Report Available

Grindr: 1 New Message

'Fuckin' Grindr? What the fuck is he daein on Grindr?...is he-' Simon was ripped from his thoughts by the sound of the bathroom door creaking open ever so slightly and Mark calling out for help.

“Si? Could ye git us a towel? A forgot tae bring one in wae us.”

“Uh... wha-? I mean.. aye. Aye, I'll get yae one now.” he called back and okay, maybe he sounded weird and maybe Simon was having some what of a hard time convincing his head catch up with the fucking rest of him but... Grindr... Mark fucking Renton was on Grindr.

Their evening was quiet; a Connery marathon and little to no chit-chat. Simon was thankful to say the least. It wasn't that he cared- 'It's no like a mind if he's a buftie.' he thought, unable to focus his full attention on the film in front of him.

'A just wish he'd ae spoken tae us aboot it.' Simon was hurt, that was it. That's all it was; he was hurt that his best friend hadn't felt comfortable enough to confide in him. He was hurt that-

Mark's phone had chimed again in his pocket and Simon couldn't help but stare as the secretive wee cunt across from him fished his phone out of his pocket to read the message. Simon watched as Mark's mouth pulled itself into a modest smirk and he quickly typed out his reply before planting his phone firmly back in his pocket.

“Somethin' funny?” Simon found himself asking, an undeniable bite to his tone.

Mark only responded with a shrug, his eyes barely leaving the TV. 'Oh, aye. Cunt's got time tae look at his phone and reply tae his boyfriends but won't even look in my fuckin' direction when am speakin' tae him.'

Simon wasn't jealous. He really wasn't; he was just... concerned? Mark was his mate, his bestmate. Always had been and it was highly likely that he always would be. Si couldn't shake the cunt and truth be told he wasn't sure he wanted to. He had grown used to having Mark around again, though the Mark he knew now was a stark contrast to the Mark he had known when they were still wains. This Mark was bigger, stronger; both physically and emotionally. He was domesticated and responsible. This Mark was holding down a job, paying his rent on time, keeping their flat clean, cooking dinner, ironing his fucking boxers for christ's sake. This Mark was his.

Simon shoved himself up from his slumped position across their couch and mumbled nothing more than “Am goin' tae bed.” as he retreated to the dark, quiet confines of his bedroom; door slamming behind him before Mark had a chance to respond. Simon needed time alone, time to think and process all of the information he had acquired in the last four hours. 'Fuckin' Grindr. What if he's meetin' up wae psychos? Doss cunt's gonnae get himsel killed.' Simon didn't know much of anything about dating apps; Tinder, Grindr, Bumble, Hinge... 'all ae load ae old pish!' but he knew enough to know they could be dangerous and honestly? He couldn't fucking stand the thought of anything happening to Mark. He couldn't lose him again. He refused to lose him again; Not this time.

That is how Simon Williamson found himself staring down at his own phone, deep in thought as his thumb hovered apprehensively over the download icon for Grindr. He was just being cautious. Just looking out for his best friend and making sure he wasn't being lured in by the Begbie's of the world; 'Meetin' up wae fellas expectin' ae quick shag an' windin' up wae yer heed kicked in instead.'

With a deep breath, he took the plunge and watched as the app planted itself firmly on his home screen, wee yellow face fucking smirking up at him. 'Cunt.'

The sign up process hadn't been as long and arduous as Simon had anticipated; a few minor details entered, location and notifications turned off and a quick photo of his chest uploaded to his profile, he was set. Mark's profile was easy enough to locate; another shirtless torso but Simon knew what to look for, immediately recognising his friend's undeniably attractive torso and the scar from Mark's surgery. Mark didn't have a bad body, Si would give him that. Broad shoulders, toned biceps and a light dusting of chest hair all combined with strong, trim abs; aye... he could see the appeal (not that he was a wee buftie mind).

Mark (48) Online Now.

Bartender, traveller, fitness enthusiast based in Edinburgh.

Looking for mates, dates & anything in between.

Weight: 175lb

Height: 5'10

Body Type: Toned

Gender: Cis Man

Prnonouns: He/Him/His

Position: Vers Bottom

Tribes: Rugged, Daddy, Discreet

Simon found himself biting his lower lip in attempt not to laugh as he read through Mark's profile, thumb flicking back and forth between the other man's photo and his bio. “Never would ae pegged yae as a bottom, Rent Boy.” Simon mumbled, tapping to exit out of Mark's profile with every intention of calling it a night but oh... oh... “Wit the fuck is ae tap?... how do I undo a tap?.. wit have ae done?” Simon's phone buzzed in his hand, altering him to a new message; his first message in fact.

Mark>> Thanks for the tap. Great pic.

Fuck. What the fuck was he supposed to do now? Ignore the poor wee cunt? What was the point in that? He was on here to keep an eye on Mark; nothing more, nothing less. He couldn't do that without at least fucking talking to him... Simon groaned inwardly. Why the fuck did he think this was a good idea to begin with?

Aye. No bother. You look good too.<<David

Mark>> Looks like you're close by. Local?

Somethin like that. <<David

Sorry, am new to all this. A don't really know wit am doin.<<David

Mark>> I get it. I've no been on here long either.

How long?<<David

Have ye met many people off here like?<<David

Mark>> A few. Usually only if they can accom.

Accom?<<David

Mark>> Accomodate. I cannae bring people home. Flate mate.

Is that all Simon was to him? A fucking flat mate?

Oh. A see.<<David

Mark>> Disappointed? ;)

Why would a be disappointed?<<David

Mark>> You tapped me? and there's usually a reason people are on Grindr at 11:44PM.

Aye. Right enough. <<David

Mark>> So, you didn't actually answer my question.

Mark>> Are you disappointed?

Simon took a shaky breath, his palms suddenly clammy as he continued to gnaw nervously as his lower lip. Mark was flirting with him. No, not with him; Mark was flirting with David and it didn't feel bad... It didn't feel bad at all.

If Simon was to be completely and utterly honest with himself, he liked it. He enjoyed this playful, out-going side to his friend that he had rarely (if ever) seen. Maybe Mark had just never felt entirely comfortable around Simon or maybe Mark had spent most of his adolescence too smacked off of his wee ginger tits to worry about flirting and building strong, meaningful relationships. Aye... probably the latter.

Simon stared down at his phone, contemplating his next move. This wasn't right; he knew it wasn't right. He'd heard about this, there was a whole fucking TV show based around the idea. Was he really about to Catfish his own best friend? (or fucking flat mate as Mark would rather have it)...

Aye, fucking right he was.

#sickrent #sickboy #sick boy #rent boy #simon williamson #Mark Renton #slash #m/m #fanfiction #trainspotting #t2 #Jonny Lee Miller #Ewan Mcgregor #rentboy

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sickrentheadcanons · 7 years

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Simon doesn't share.

When Mark & Simon first move in together it’s strictly a platonic arrangement. Mark moves what little stuff he has into Simon’s spare room and Simon’s surprised at how seamlessly they fall into a domestic routine. Mark finds a job and comes home most nights to Simon cooking dinner. They watch movies together; lights off and volume up. When Simon gets tired he lays down on the sofa and rests his head in Mark’s lap. Mark plays with his hair and they don’t overthink it. When Mark starts seeing someone, Simon becomes needy and petulant. He’s jealous. When Mark brings her home for the first time Simon barely speaks a word but he joins them at dinner and glares daggers at her from across the table. Simon knows it’s childish. He doesn’t care and Mark doesn’t notice. Si bides his time. It’s three and a half weeks of third-wheeling and back handed compliments but he finally makes his move one evening while the three of them are watching a Connery movie. He yawns, he stretches and without a second thought he reclines back against Mark (Because of course Simon would make a point of sitting beside Mark so that his girlfriend couldn’t). Mark’s eyes never leave the screen as Simon’s head falls into his lap and Mark automatically threads his fingers through Si’s thinning, bleached mop. It’s routine. This is the kind of blind intimacy they’ve both grown accustomed to. Simon doesn’t have to look to know they’re being watched but when he does, his eyes meet hers. She’s glaring and Simon smirks; it’s sadistic, pitiless and so typically Sick boy. He silently mouths the word “Mine” and that’s the last he or Mark ever see of what’s-her-name.

#sickrent #sickboy #Renton #Mark Renton #Simon Williamson #headcanon #slash #m/m #Trainspotting #t2 #Jonny Lee miller #Ewan mcgregor #rentboy

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