Fic: First Dates Are Always the Worst if Your Name is Harry Dresden

[jade_dragoness]

So, I'm a bit late because I need to add a few things. *coughs* It jumped up in rating for one.

Title: First Dates Are Always the Worst if Your Name is Harry Dresden
Author: J.D. aka jade_dragoness
Series: Slow and Steady, Story #6
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Harry Dresden/John Marcone
Spoilers: Post ‘Turn Coat’
Summary: *points at the title* Exactly what it says on the tin.
Word Count: 1,870
Disclaimer: Never ever will be mine. *sadness*
A/N: Written for schmoop_bingo Card Slot #16 - Bad Day. Thank you beachkid for the beta! All mistakes are my own.
Feedback is hugely welcomed.
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Sequel to: Kiss It Better
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I was running so hard my knees ached and my lungs burned. But I didn’t dare slow down.

John Marcone was right behind me.

And before you ask, no I wasn’t running away from him. We had been on a date. Our first date. Or we were before my terrible, horrible, no good and very bad luck at first dates continued its streak with us getting chased by a monster.

Umm, let me backtrack here.

It had only been a couple of weeks since Marcone had scraped me off the parking lot of Forsynthe Park. That night, I had kissed him. And after the affects of the concussion cleared, I’d finally accepted that I’d done that because I wanted to, and not just because my brains had gotten a solid knock. After I’d finished panicking, I’d also had to admit to myself that I’d grown to enjoy Marcone’s attention over the last few months. I found myself liking him right back. So I called him up and asked him out.

His shocked silence had convinced me it had been the right move and it had made me grin at catching him off-guard. I don’t think I’ll ever stop enjoying that.

Once he’d finally accepted I was for real and not under a spell or concussed again, Marcone had agreed with ego-stroking speed. Of course, not remembering that I was terrible at hosting dates, I’d also insisted that it would be my choice about where we’d go. And that he had to leave his bodyguards at home.

Bad idea. Because trouble found us before we’d even made it to the restaurant. Cue our current situation.

An angry and clearly non-human bellow made me wince. The minotaur behind us snorted and bellowed again. Yes, you heard me. A minotaur.

Marcone accelerated until he was next to me.

“How long do we need to keep distracting it?” Marcone asked, calmly. He ran with long strides and a smoothness that implied he could keep it up for hours. Stars, I knew he was flexible and strong. He’d proven that often enough over the years. But I hadn’t expected to add incredible endurance to his list of attributes.

“Not long,” I managed to gasp out. “Save your breath.”

Again the minotaur bellowed. It was closer this time.

In my head, I ran through everything I knew about them. It wasn’t much. I knew the same mythology as everyone else; the story of the minotaur and the maze was pretty well known. I wasn’t in a maze, but only technically: the tunnels of Undertown did a pretty good impression of one. I didn’t have a sword, and or even my staff.

I hadn’t expected to need to come armed for this date, okay. Which, I got to admit in hindsight was incredibly stupid. I wouldn’t make the same mistake again. Next date? I’ll come loaded for bear.

I focused my will on the glow of the pentacle around my neck. The blue light intensified, illuminating the tunnel in front of us, showing that there was a sharp corner coming up. I slowed down enough to let Marcone get ahead of me.

He gave me a sharp look. I waved him on and turned to face the direction that the minotaur was coming from. I raised my hand, palm out, and yelled, “Fuego!”

The roar of the fire drowned out the minotaur’s bellowing and hit him dead center, making him howl. But other than singeing him around the edges, it didn’t do much else. Minotaurs were surprisingly resistant to magic, or so I’d discovered.

I made a mental note to bring my gun with me too, next time.

The minotaur shook his large, horned head and charged after me. I waited. Because the point of the fire hadn’t been to stop the minotaur.

It had been to create ice.

The minotaur’s hooves slipped out from under him just as he built up speed. He bellowed in surprise as he slid towards me; I skidded back around the corner, and he smashed into the wall. Which was exactly what I’d been waiting for.

“Fozare!”, I shouted, and gestured with a fist. The spell hit the ceiling right above the minotaur. Since his large mass had already cracked the wall my additional blast of force broke through and a large piece of concrete fell on him.

The minotaur squealed in pain. But he wasn’t dead.

I turned and ran and quickly caught up to Marcone.

“This way,” he said.

I followed him. By running ahead, he’d found some rungs that led up to another level of Undertown. We managed to get up two levels before the rungs ran out. But fortunately, the noises of the minotaur faded away.

“I think we lost it,” I said. I Listened for a moment and heard faint scraping of hooves on cement, but the noise grew fainter, heading away from us.

“Good,” Marcone said. He reached out and touched my bruised cheek. In the light of the pentacle, his mouth quirked up. “So… are your dates always so exciting? I read the article Ms. Rodriguez published in the Arcane about her date with you, but I’d thought she was exaggerating.”

I leaned into his hand and sighed. “No such luck.”

“How often do members of the supernatural community require your assistance?”

“I‘m the only Warden in Chicago. It kind of comes with the territory,” I said with a shrug.

Ultimately, that had been the trouble that had interrupted our date before it even had a chance to start. A distraught practitioner, a young man who’d gotten my name from Mac, had found me. His kid brother than been kidnapped by a Thing. His words not mine. He didn’t know what it’d been. He’d only known that it had taken his brother down underground into the sewer tunnels.

He’d begged for my help. And I agreed.

I hadn’t expected Marcone to come with me. In fact, I’d told him it was probably a better idea if he went home and we rescheduled our date. He hadn’t agreed.

Which is how the two of us ended up in Undertown. We’d managed to rescue the kid mostly, by playing bait for the minotaur and giving his big brother the opportunity take him back to the surface.

“Think the kids got out?” I asked, thinking about the brothers.

“Yes,” Marcone murmured. “We gave them enough of a head start.”

“I hope-” I was cut off by Marcone’s mouth.

I startled but soon relaxed, leaning into him. I opened my mouth eagerly.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot, wondering if my concussed head had been exaggerating how good it had felt to kiss him

But it hadn’t. Hell, I think it‘d actually had dulled my senses because he felt so good, firm and confident, with heat all along my front. He was wearing something low key but warm and spicy that made me want to bury my nose against his neck. Marcone’s lips parted and I licked into his mouth, lightly exploring the shape of him.

Wow. He even tasted good. Really good. Why had I been resisting his attentions again?

His hand slipped from my cheek to the back of my head, holding me just right. He groaned, deep and low in his chest, rumbling intriguingly against me.

Stars, I loved hearing that. There’s something incredibly powerful about reducing John Marcone to such desperation. It was a good thing he liked it just as much as I did because I was already addicted.

I grinned and pulled back. “You know, if this was a horror movie, making out would be guaranteed to get us killed.”

Marcone huffed and pulled me back towards him. “Then it’s fortunate that we‘re not in a horror movie,” he said, his mouth slipping down to my neck. His fingers found the buttons of my pants and undid them.

“True,” I agreed, trying not to squirm as his broad hand slid down my stomach to my groin. My cock stirred in interest at the touch of his hot fingers. “But we do have a monster after us. And we‘re in a spooky place.”

The dark tunnels of Undertown were hardly romantic.

Marcone paused, and pulled his hand away.

“I didn‘t mean stop,” I protested. He smiled, a hint of smugness in his expression that I just had to kiss away. His hand went back into my jeans. I squirmed and spread my legs to give him room. He settled against me, pressing me into the cool concrete wall.

His other hand tugged down my jeans and underwear, exposing my hardened cock to the air.

“I don‘t normally do this. I’m not an exhibitionist,” I gasped.

“Really? That’s a pity. I have a car with mirrored windows that I always wanted to try out,” Marcone whispered against my ear.

My brain popped like a burn out bulb of the idea of what we could get up to in the back of one of Marcone’s cars. Hell, even in the middle of the city. But who would drive?

“I couldn’t do that to Hendricks,” I protested weakly. Then Marcone pressed his thumb to the tip of my cock. “But… I can be convinced.” I whimpered, and clung to his shoulders. Jesus. It’s been too long since I’ve felt that heat in my gut that had nothing to do with anger, and everything to do with being so turned on it was hard to think.

“Miss Gard has already volunteered,” he chuckled.

I was too distracted to ponder that disturbing piece of news by the twist of his hand against my length. By the slow way that he stroked me, following the thick vein down.

That’s when the minotaur bellowed. He was close. Too close.

Before I could gain control of my melted brain enough to convince Marcone that I really didn’t mind risking death via horror movie cliché as long as he didn’t stop, he released his hold on my cock and pulled out his hand.

Stars and stones, my luck was terrible.

“No,” I groaned. Marcone - that bastard - chuckled but at least he helped me do up my pants. I bent my head to kiss Marcone, pressing him against the wall. His hands clutched at my hips. It was all I could do not to grind up against him. I could come from that alone.

“Our date isn‘t over,” I said, when I finally pulled back. My mouth - my entire body - felt hot. I didn’t want to stop touching him.

Damn that minotaur to hell! Now, I was ticked off and I had blue balls. Damn my horrible luck!

“Oh, I agree,” Marcone said, his eyes warm with satisfaction. His thumbs made little circles on the hollows of my hips, intensifying the heat in me. I groaned again.

But I could hear the monster stomping closer, and it took every once of my self-control to tear myself away from him.

“Let’s get out of here,” I said, and together we ran. Well more like hobbled on my account. Have you ever tried to run while hard? It’s not a pleasant experience.

Next time? I’ll risk the horror movie cliché death.

End.

a/n: Poor Harry, I‘d say I was being mean to him, but he does have bad luck in dates. Heh.

Geez, this series has some of the longest stories titles ever.