Jackson groans, rubbing faster and with more fervor as the image of Mark pops up in his head.

Mark. He's going to come. Mark. He's going to come. Mark. He's going to come.

On cue, Jackson hears the jingle of keys through the closed bedroom door and the distinct bright call of "I'm home!" in English and curses under his breath. Mark's come home, he's nowhere near done, and his dirty deeds are about to be found out. He hears footsteps nearing but there is nothing he can do but await his imminent fate. He squeezes his eyes shut and hopes for the best when the door swings open.

"Is that...?" Mark ogles at what Jackson is cradling in his hands before realisation dawns and he screeches. "Jackson ing Wang! You are so dead!"

Jackson cringed. He really shouldn't have sneakily worn Mark's favourite Jordan sneakers out to play basketball by the Han river and got them dirtied.