Fic: Skin Poetry (Brotherhood II, Harlan/Marcus, NC17)
Title: Skin Poetry
Fandom: Brotherhood II
Pairing: Harlan/Marcus
Rating: NC17
Summary: Harlan isn't a poet, but he likes writing anyway.
A/N: For my kink bingo card. The kink is Writing On Skin (for the wildcard spot), with bonus Humiliation (Private) (sort of), and Object Penetration (Not a Sex Toy), because I can't seem to stick with just one kink in these things. Go figure.
If there was one thing Harlan learned from his father, it was not to waste time and energy regretting stuff that had already happened. He didn't regret what they'd done to Marcus; it was just a joke, for one thing, and if Marcus couldn't take a joke then Harlan didn't want anything to do with him anyway. Besides, if they hadn't done that whole thing with the marker Harlan might never have discovered just how much Marcus liked this, and that he'd regret.
Marcus fought him at first, after the whole shower thing. When Harlan first brought up the idea Marcus rolled his eyes and told Harlan he was fucking crazy, but he flushed too, and his breath got a little shallower, so Harlan could tell he was into it. Even if he hadn't practically started salivating at the idea of letting Harlan write on him, he was the one on his knees behind Marcus in the showers that day, and he'd seen the way Marcus reacted to the idea of Harlan writing on him the first time. He'd seen the way Marcus' dick twitched, and he knew half the reason Marcus was so pissed at the time was because he was worried that one of the might notice that he wanted it a little. Maybe not in front of Randall and Alex, sure, but he'd followed them into the locker room for a reason, and once he was on his knees Harlan was pretty sure he knew what that reason was.
So even though he bitched about it, Marcus let Harlan peel his clothes off anyway, and he didn't argue when Harlan rolled him onto his stomach and straddled his thighs. He bitched about the showers in the dorm, and okay, he had a point there, but when Harlan promised to clear out the locker room and help him clean up after, he stopped arguing altogether.
The first time Harlan wrote on him Marcus squirmed the entire time, asking a million questions about what Harlan was writing and craning his neck until he practically sprained it trying to see. "Hold still or I'm gonna write 'whore' on your ass and take a picture to post on the school website," Harlan threatened. And he probably wouldn't post it, but he wouldn't have minded a picture of that. When Marcus squirmed again and mumbled some empty threat into his shoulder Harlan smacked his ass hard enough to surprise a yelp out of him, leaving a bright red spot in the shape of his hand. It only lasted a second before it faded, so Harlan did it again and traced it with the marker this time.
"Looks good," Harlan said when he was finished. "Maybe you should get my hand print tattooed on your ass."
"In your dreams," Marcus said, but he was pressing up into Harlan's hand, hips thrusting against the mattress underneath him, and now he knew something else that got Marcus off.
Harlan smacked his other cheek, then he flipped the marker over and dragged the end of it down the cleft of Marcus' ass.
That made Marcus squirm even harder, really fighting to get away this time. "Jesus, Harlan, don't. I'll never get the ink out."
Harlan just laughed and pressed his free hand against Marcus' hip, holding him firm against the mattress. "Relax, the cap's on."
He dragged the marker a little further down, just to prove his point. When he heard Marcus suck in a sharp breath he pressed down a little, just enough to see whether or not Marcus would let him. It was tempting to take it even further, to see if Marcus would let Harlan fuck him with the same marker he'd been so scared of that first time in the shower. He hadn't bothered to grab any lube, though, and even he wasn't that big of an asshole. Marcus was pushing back into it, though, breathing hard through his teeth and man, that was hot.
"You're such a slut, Ratner," Harlan said, pulling the marker free before he leaned over and opened his mouth against Marcus' neck.
"Fuck you," Marcus said, but the way he was panting sort of ruined the effect.
Harlan laughed against his skin and kissed him again, teeth grazing the thin skin behind Marcus' ear. "What? It's a good look for you."
He straightened up and gripped the marker again, settling back on Marcus' hips and studying the pale expanse of his back. "Should I write 'slut' across your shoulders? In big block letters, so everybody can see it even through your shirt. Then everybody will know exactly how much you like this."
"Or maybe..." Harlan trailed off as he pressed the marker against Marcus' shoulder, hand steady as he drew a line starting at Marcus' shoulder blade and trailing down a few inches.
"What?" Marcus asked, pushing up on his elbows to try to see what Harlan was doing. "You're not writing 'property of Harlan Ratcliffe' on my back, are you?"
"That's not a bad idea, now that you mention it." He grinned and leaned forward again, hands braced on either side of Marcus to press his lips to Marcus' ear. "You are mine, Marcus. And you love it."
Marcus didn't answer, but he didn't try to deny it, either, and that was good enough for Harlan. He slid a hand into Marcus' hair and pulled his head back just hard enough to get Marcus' attention, fusing their mouths together for a thorough kiss before he let go and straightened up again. He'd been planning to write 'fuck me' on Marcus' shoulders, maybe with an arrow pointing down, just to be funny. But Marcus would just get pissed, and then it would be awhile before Harlan could talk him into this again. Instead he picked up the marker and made the line that had started out as an 'f' even thicker, dragging the marker across Marcus' skin in a curve that wrapped around his left shoulder blade.
When he had the first part of the design filled in he started on Marcus' other side, drawing more or less the mirror image on his right shoulder blade. He wasn't an artist -- not even close -- but it looked pretty good, for a first effort. He drew a line down the left side of Marcus' spine, then back up the right side, letting the marker curve into the thicker design he'd drawn already across the top of Marcus' back. It looked good, all that dark ink against pale skin. It needed something, though, and Harlan grinned and gripped one of Marcus' shoulders while he leaned in to write his name across the base of Marcus' neck.
"What are you doing now?" Marcus asked, pressing up into the hand holding him down.
"Just signing my work." When Harlan finished he leaned back to admire the result, tilting his head to one side and then the other to make sure everything was more or less even. "Looks good on you, Ratner. Maybe you should get some ink."
The noise Marcus made was somewhere between a laugh and a whine, and judging by the way his hips were moving under Harlan, he figured Marcus wasn't in the mood for conversation. He put the cap on the marker and tossed it in the direction of his nightstand, then he turned his attention back to the body still spread out underneath him. He pressed a kiss to Marcus' neck just above the 'Harlan' scrawled on his skin, grinning at the sight before he moved down Marcus' back. He pressed kisses along the edge of his design, stopping at the base of Marcus' spine to look up at his work from a new angle.
Marcus squirmed under him and looked back over his shoulder, face flushed even darker red now. "Are you going to do anything or are you just going to stare at me all night?"
"Jesus, Ratner, you are a slut," Harlan said, but he slid a hand between Marcus' legs and cupped his balls, rolling them carefully between his fingers as he pressed his thumb up toward the cleft of Marcus' ass.
Marcus rocked his hips up into Harlan's hand, trying in vain to get his thumb where he wanted it most. Harlan let go of his balls and let his thumb slide over the entrance to Marcus' body, grinning at the low moan Marcus let out. He pulled his thumb away and leaned over, one hand pushing Marcus' cheeks apart and the other holding him up as he leaned in and pushed his tongue as far into Marcus as it would go. That got him a sharp gasp and a hard thrust of Marcus' hips, hard enough to make Harlan pull back. He pushed Marcus' legs apart and knelt between them, repositioning himself so he could hold Marcus still with one hand while he pushed his tongue back inside.
Marcus moaned this time and pressed back against Harlan's hand, hips rocking minutely in an effort to get Harlan even deeper. Harlan's own cock ached with the need to be touched, but he ignored it and focused on opening Marcus even further. He slid a finger inside, twisting just a little as he slid his tongue over his own finger and up the crease of Marcus' ass. And he liked the view even better from here, the outline of his hand print standing out against Marcus' ass and his skin splotched with red under the black ink Harlan had left all over his skin. He pressed a second finger into Marcus, pumping them in and out in time to the rocking of Marcus' hips.
"Fuck," Marcus gasped, and it was close enough to an invitation for Harlan. He thought about getting up long enough to grab some actual lube, just to make things a little easier, but as soon as he pulled his fingers free Marcus moaned and murmured 'fuck me' into the pillow. There was no way he was going to pass on that, so he spit into his hand and stroked his own cock a few times before he pulled Marcus onto his knees and lined himself up.
He pushed halfway in, pausing when he met a little resistance and waiting until Marcus pressed back to take him the rest of the way. Harlan groaned and gripped Marcus' hips hard, leaving fresh prints to trace as he pulled out and then pushed into Marcus again. And maybe next time Harlan would trace the outline of his hands on Marcus' hips, just so Marcus could look down later and remember exactly the way it felt to have Harlan holding onto him while he fucked him.
And Harlan wouldn't have guessed it before they started sleeping together, but Marcus was a talker. He was talking even more than usual today, keeping up a steady stream of 'fuck' and 'harder' and 'Jesus'. His voice rose sharply when Harlan got just the right angle to hit his prostate, so he tilted his hips to hit the same spot again and again. By the time Harlan let go Marcus had devolved from actual words into a high-pitched sort of moan, almost like he was in pain. He was still rocking back hard on Harlan's cock, though, and when Harlan thrust forward one last time and came Marcus pushed back until Harlan was buried as deep inside him as he could get and reached down to close his hand around his own cock.
All it took was a few hard strokes and Marcus was coming too, tightening around Harlan and sending a shudder of not-quite-pain through his oversensitive cock. Harlan waited until Marcus stopped shaking before he pulled out, collapsing onto the mattress next to Marcus. He glanced over to find Marcus stretched out on his stomach again, Harlan's hand print standing out in sharp relief on his ass and the design on his back running just a little at the edges from sweat.
"Next time I am bringing a camera," Harlan said, reaching over to run a finger along Marcus' skin.
"Fine, but no pictures of my face," Marcus answered, eyes closed and his breath already starting to even out. "If they end up on the internet I want to be able to deny it's me."
"So you'll let me fuck you but you don't trust me to take a picture of you? Pretty sure that does make you a whore."
"Takes one to know one," Marcus said, opening his eyes to grin when Harlan laughed. He wondered what Marcus' friends would say if they knew where he was right now. If they knew what he let Harlan do to him they probably wouldn't be his friends much longer, but that was okay with Harlan too. He shifted on the mattress until he was close enough to press their lips together, hand sliding around Marcus' neck to rest at the spot where his name was written on Marcus' skin.
"I hope you were serious about clearing out the locker room," Marcus said when they came up for air, "because you're scrubbing all this shit off my back."
Harlan grinned and pulled him even closer, hand trailing down Marcus' back to settle over the hand print traced on his ass. "I keep my promises."
Fandom: Brotherhood II
Pairing: Harlan/Marcus
Rating: NC17
Summary: Harlan isn't a poet, but he likes writing anyway.
A/N: For my kink bingo card. The kink is Writing On Skin (for the wildcard spot), with bonus Humiliation (Private) (sort of), and Object Penetration (Not a Sex Toy), because I can't seem to stick with just one kink in these things. Go figure.
If there was one thing Harlan learned from his father, it was not to waste time and energy regretting stuff that had already happened. He didn't regret what they'd done to Marcus; it was just a joke, for one thing, and if Marcus couldn't take a joke then Harlan didn't want anything to do with him anyway. Besides, if they hadn't done that whole thing with the marker Harlan might never have discovered just how much Marcus liked this, and that he'd regret.
Marcus fought him at first, after the whole shower thing. When Harlan first brought up the idea Marcus rolled his eyes and told Harlan he was fucking crazy, but he flushed too, and his breath got a little shallower, so Harlan could tell he was into it. Even if he hadn't practically started salivating at the idea of letting Harlan write on him, he was the one on his knees behind Marcus in the showers that day, and he'd seen the way Marcus reacted to the idea of Harlan writing on him the first time. He'd seen the way Marcus' dick twitched, and he knew half the reason Marcus was so pissed at the time was because he was worried that one of the might notice that he wanted it a little. Maybe not in front of Randall and Alex, sure, but he'd followed them into the locker room for a reason, and once he was on his knees Harlan was pretty sure he knew what that reason was.
So even though he bitched about it, Marcus let Harlan peel his clothes off anyway, and he didn't argue when Harlan rolled him onto his stomach and straddled his thighs. He bitched about the showers in the dorm, and okay, he had a point there, but when Harlan promised to clear out the locker room and help him clean up after, he stopped arguing altogether.
The first time Harlan wrote on him Marcus squirmed the entire time, asking a million questions about what Harlan was writing and craning his neck until he practically sprained it trying to see. "Hold still or I'm gonna write 'whore' on your ass and take a picture to post on the school website," Harlan threatened. And he probably wouldn't post it, but he wouldn't have minded a picture of that. When Marcus squirmed again and mumbled some empty threat into his shoulder Harlan smacked his ass hard enough to surprise a yelp out of him, leaving a bright red spot in the shape of his hand. It only lasted a second before it faded, so Harlan did it again and traced it with the marker this time.
"Looks good," Harlan said when he was finished. "Maybe you should get my hand print tattooed on your ass."
"In your dreams," Marcus said, but he was pressing up into Harlan's hand, hips thrusting against the mattress underneath him, and now he knew something else that got Marcus off.
Harlan smacked his other cheek, then he flipped the marker over and dragged the end of it down the cleft of Marcus' ass.
That made Marcus squirm even harder, really fighting to get away this time. "Jesus, Harlan, don't. I'll never get the ink out."
Harlan just laughed and pressed his free hand against Marcus' hip, holding him firm against the mattress. "Relax, the cap's on."
He dragged the marker a little further down, just to prove his point. When he heard Marcus suck in a sharp breath he pressed down a little, just enough to see whether or not Marcus would let him. It was tempting to take it even further, to see if Marcus would let Harlan fuck him with the same marker he'd been so scared of that first time in the shower. He hadn't bothered to grab any lube, though, and even he wasn't that big of an asshole. Marcus was pushing back into it, though, breathing hard through his teeth and man, that was hot.
"You're such a slut, Ratner," Harlan said, pulling the marker free before he leaned over and opened his mouth against Marcus' neck.
"Fuck you," Marcus said, but the way he was panting sort of ruined the effect.
Harlan laughed against his skin and kissed him again, teeth grazing the thin skin behind Marcus' ear. "What? It's a good look for you."
He straightened up and gripped the marker again, settling back on Marcus' hips and studying the pale expanse of his back. "Should I write 'slut' across your shoulders? In big block letters, so everybody can see it even through your shirt. Then everybody will know exactly how much you like this."
"Or maybe..." Harlan trailed off as he pressed the marker against Marcus' shoulder, hand steady as he drew a line starting at Marcus' shoulder blade and trailing down a few inches.
"What?" Marcus asked, pushing up on his elbows to try to see what Harlan was doing. "You're not writing 'property of Harlan Ratcliffe' on my back, are you?"
"That's not a bad idea, now that you mention it." He grinned and leaned forward again, hands braced on either side of Marcus to press his lips to Marcus' ear. "You are mine, Marcus. And you love it."
Marcus didn't answer, but he didn't try to deny it, either, and that was good enough for Harlan. He slid a hand into Marcus' hair and pulled his head back just hard enough to get Marcus' attention, fusing their mouths together for a thorough kiss before he let go and straightened up again. He'd been planning to write 'fuck me' on Marcus' shoulders, maybe with an arrow pointing down, just to be funny. But Marcus would just get pissed, and then it would be awhile before Harlan could talk him into this again. Instead he picked up the marker and made the line that had started out as an 'f' even thicker, dragging the marker across Marcus' skin in a curve that wrapped around his left shoulder blade.
When he had the first part of the design filled in he started on Marcus' other side, drawing more or less the mirror image on his right shoulder blade. He wasn't an artist -- not even close -- but it looked pretty good, for a first effort. He drew a line down the left side of Marcus' spine, then back up the right side, letting the marker curve into the thicker design he'd drawn already across the top of Marcus' back. It looked good, all that dark ink against pale skin. It needed something, though, and Harlan grinned and gripped one of Marcus' shoulders while he leaned in to write his name across the base of Marcus' neck.
"What are you doing now?" Marcus asked, pressing up into the hand holding him down.
"Just signing my work." When Harlan finished he leaned back to admire the result, tilting his head to one side and then the other to make sure everything was more or less even. "Looks good on you, Ratner. Maybe you should get some ink."
The noise Marcus made was somewhere between a laugh and a whine, and judging by the way his hips were moving under Harlan, he figured Marcus wasn't in the mood for conversation. He put the cap on the marker and tossed it in the direction of his nightstand, then he turned his attention back to the body still spread out underneath him. He pressed a kiss to Marcus' neck just above the 'Harlan' scrawled on his skin, grinning at the sight before he moved down Marcus' back. He pressed kisses along the edge of his design, stopping at the base of Marcus' spine to look up at his work from a new angle.
Marcus squirmed under him and looked back over his shoulder, face flushed even darker red now. "Are you going to do anything or are you just going to stare at me all night?"
"Jesus, Ratner, you are a slut," Harlan said, but he slid a hand between Marcus' legs and cupped his balls, rolling them carefully between his fingers as he pressed his thumb up toward the cleft of Marcus' ass.
Marcus rocked his hips up into Harlan's hand, trying in vain to get his thumb where he wanted it most. Harlan let go of his balls and let his thumb slide over the entrance to Marcus' body, grinning at the low moan Marcus let out. He pulled his thumb away and leaned over, one hand pushing Marcus' cheeks apart and the other holding him up as he leaned in and pushed his tongue as far into Marcus as it would go. That got him a sharp gasp and a hard thrust of Marcus' hips, hard enough to make Harlan pull back. He pushed Marcus' legs apart and knelt between them, repositioning himself so he could hold Marcus still with one hand while he pushed his tongue back inside.
Marcus moaned this time and pressed back against Harlan's hand, hips rocking minutely in an effort to get Harlan even deeper. Harlan's own cock ached with the need to be touched, but he ignored it and focused on opening Marcus even further. He slid a finger inside, twisting just a little as he slid his tongue over his own finger and up the crease of Marcus' ass. And he liked the view even better from here, the outline of his hand print standing out against Marcus' ass and his skin splotched with red under the black ink Harlan had left all over his skin. He pressed a second finger into Marcus, pumping them in and out in time to the rocking of Marcus' hips.
"Fuck," Marcus gasped, and it was close enough to an invitation for Harlan. He thought about getting up long enough to grab some actual lube, just to make things a little easier, but as soon as he pulled his fingers free Marcus moaned and murmured 'fuck me' into the pillow. There was no way he was going to pass on that, so he spit into his hand and stroked his own cock a few times before he pulled Marcus onto his knees and lined himself up.
He pushed halfway in, pausing when he met a little resistance and waiting until Marcus pressed back to take him the rest of the way. Harlan groaned and gripped Marcus' hips hard, leaving fresh prints to trace as he pulled out and then pushed into Marcus again. And maybe next time Harlan would trace the outline of his hands on Marcus' hips, just so Marcus could look down later and remember exactly the way it felt to have Harlan holding onto him while he fucked him.
And Harlan wouldn't have guessed it before they started sleeping together, but Marcus was a talker. He was talking even more than usual today, keeping up a steady stream of 'fuck' and 'harder' and 'Jesus'. His voice rose sharply when Harlan got just the right angle to hit his prostate, so he tilted his hips to hit the same spot again and again. By the time Harlan let go Marcus had devolved from actual words into a high-pitched sort of moan, almost like he was in pain. He was still rocking back hard on Harlan's cock, though, and when Harlan thrust forward one last time and came Marcus pushed back until Harlan was buried as deep inside him as he could get and reached down to close his hand around his own cock.
All it took was a few hard strokes and Marcus was coming too, tightening around Harlan and sending a shudder of not-quite-pain through his oversensitive cock. Harlan waited until Marcus stopped shaking before he pulled out, collapsing onto the mattress next to Marcus. He glanced over to find Marcus stretched out on his stomach again, Harlan's hand print standing out in sharp relief on his ass and the design on his back running just a little at the edges from sweat.
"Next time I am bringing a camera," Harlan said, reaching over to run a finger along Marcus' skin.
"Fine, but no pictures of my face," Marcus answered, eyes closed and his breath already starting to even out. "If they end up on the internet I want to be able to deny it's me."
"So you'll let me fuck you but you don't trust me to take a picture of you? Pretty sure that does make you a whore."
"Takes one to know one," Marcus said, opening his eyes to grin when Harlan laughed. He wondered what Marcus' friends would say if they knew where he was right now. If they knew what he let Harlan do to him they probably wouldn't be his friends much longer, but that was okay with Harlan too. He shifted on the mattress until he was close enough to press their lips together, hand sliding around Marcus' neck to rest at the spot where his name was written on Marcus' skin.
"I hope you were serious about clearing out the locker room," Marcus said when they came up for air, "because you're scrubbing all this shit off my back."
Harlan grinned and pulled him even closer, hand trailing down Marcus' back to settle over the hand print traced on his ass. "I keep my promises."