When You Cross That Line
Title: When You Cross That Line
Pairing: Gerald Ciolek/Mark Cavendish
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: This is not real, this never happened. I don't know them and this is all fiction. Made up stuff.
Warnings: There's some dubious consent in this fic. Not strictly non-con, but close.
Author's Notes: Beta by metafic. For the record, I really adore Gerald and Mark, but right now I'm definitely in the mood for loving Ger.
---
Gerald hopes that when he finally finds Mark, Mark won’t have any idea what hit him. It hurt, watching him win stage after stage. And Gerald can’t help but admit that it felt good to see Mark disqualified. Not that he has any love for Thor. More like a quiet, seething hatred for all his opponents. Like every good sprinter, he knows how to hold a grudge and he still hasn’t forgiven Mark for being better than he is.
He’s not as cocky as most, if only because he doesn’t have the results to back it up. Sure, he’s won races in his career, but never five at the Tour and never the green jersey. He’s not ashamed to admit, though Linus tells him he should be, that he’s jealous of both Mark and Thor. And while he has reason to hate Thor, at least for now, it’s Mark that’s driving him crazy.
There’s a part of him that knows he shouldn’t blame Mark. After all, it’s not his fault that Milram’s not Columbia, that he’s not as good a sprinter as Mark. Nor is it Mark’s fault that he left Columbia, except for the fact that it is. He wanted to stay, he wanted to have the support, the respect. But Mark is their darling, their team leader without even being called that. And Gerald knew he didn’t belong. And when Linus asked, come to Milram with me there was no way Gerald was going to say no. It’s not like he could’ve refused, even though he wanted to.
Thoughts of revenge on the Champs-Élysées swirl around in his head. He knows, just like he’s sure Thor does, that given half a chance, given a bad day for Mark, he could take on the world. He could show Columbia what they’re missing. Except he knows it’ll never happen. Mark’s perfect and that’s why Gerald hates him. That’s why he wants him so much. Needs him, craves the attention like a drug. Linus is good, treats him right, but Gerald spends more time picking up the pieces than anything else even though they both know Gerald will always go back to Linus. But for now at least, he wants to tear things apart, wants to prove, if only to himself, that he’s capable of destruction instead of sitting quietly and letting everything pass him by.
Which is how he finds himself outside of Mark’s door, with only two days (three nights) left in the Tour. Maybe he should have done this weeks ago, months ago, or even before he left last year. But, he thinks right before he knocks, there’s no time like the present. His knock is sharp, quick and he knows Mark must recognize it. It was their signal when they wanted to get away and pretend they weren’t sprinters or professional cyclists or even divas. He wonders, as the door opens, who Mark thinks is standing out there. The shock on his face makes Gerald smile.
He doesn’t wait for an invitation, knows if he does the door’ll just slam shut in his face. So he pushes in, praying the room is empty. It is and that’s when he notices that there’s no evidence of another person. No roommate to get in the way, no roommate to lie to. Gerald turns and finds Mark watching him, a bemused look on his face.
“Did you miss me?” Mark’s voice is lazy, condescending in ways Gerald forgot were even possible. His boyish looks are marred by a sneer, and yet Gerald cannot deny that Mark is who he wants.
He steps in, pushing Mark toward the door without even touching him. “That’s one way to look at it.”
His English is worse than when he was on Columbia, but he knows Mark understands. He steps closer, until he’s mere inches away from Mark. No reaction and Gerald hadn’t expected any, Mark doesn’t know what’s coming, there’s no way he can know. Even under all his cockiness, under that mask of being better than everyone, he’s just a little boy. Though he’s younger than Mark, Gerald understands the difference between confidence and cockiness. He’s watched enough interviews with sprinters to know that Mark’s not quite the man he hopes to be and that suits Gerald just fine.
He steps in again, fast and shoves Mark back. Maybe this should wait, he thinks as Mark stumbles back, surprised. But the look on Mark’s face, a bit greedy, tells Gerald all he needs to know. He steps in close, shoving Mark again and then they’re pressed hard against the door.
“On second thought,” he starts, voice just a whisper, lips moving against Mark’s ear, “I didn’t miss you at all.” And that’s when he kisses him, pushing his mouth almost violently against Mark’s. He bites, tugging at Mark’s lips and kissing him until he has no choice but to kiss back.
Much to Gerald’s surprise and inward joy, Mark struggles against him. Not quite trying to push Gerald off, but letting him know he’s not really happy about this. Gerald finds he doesn’t care. If Mark says no, he’ll stop. If Mark asks him to leave, he will. But if Mark says nothing, like Gerald knows he’ll do, he’s not leaving. He presses Mark back against the door again, rough as he kisses him harder. Pushes his knee between Mark’s legs and for a moment he remembers the way things used to be.
They used to sneak into the bus in the middle of the night, make out until dawn and pretend to have slept poorly the next day. It was only when George found them that they’d stopped. But even then only for a few days before they were at it again. Gerald felt like he couldn’t get enough of Mark. He’d wake up, hard and sweaty with thoughts of Mark’s mouth on him. Then everything changed and he’s secretly hoping this will get Mark out of his system forever.
Mark pushes back, catching Gerald off guard, but only for a moment. Gerald shoves him in return, making Mark’s head almost bounce off the door. He knows he has to be careful, if only so that no one barges in on them. He pins Mark to the door, knee between his legs, one hand on his shoulder. He leans in, pressing their bodies flush together and locks the chain on the door with his other hand.
He leans in again, biting at Mark’s neck this time. Moves up, toward his throat and he hears Mark gasp. A soft, sweet sound that is nothing like the man he’s become. It’s a memory of light rain on the top of a bus in the middle of August. Of sweat and the thrill of almost getting caught. But then Gerald bites again, hard enough to leave a mark, but not one that’ll last the night. Mark squirms under him, fighting back a little and Gerald grabs his hands, pinning them over his head.
“Fight back, if you want,” he says, taking his time to enunciate each word. And he means it, he wants Mark to fight, not to give up, or in, so easily.
He’s not surprised, just happy, when Mark obliges. There’s a wicked little grin that flits across Mark’s face and it sends shivers down Gerald’s spine. This is why he’s here and he pulls Mark away from the door. More violently than necessary, but there’s a part of him that knows Mark likes this. They were never anything but gentle and sweet. Not anymore and he can hear Linus’ words echoing around in his head. But then you grow up and everything’s harder, darker. Gerald knows Linus was right, he’s always right and tonight’s no exception.
His mind wanders a bit, just enough so that Mark can twist almost out of his grasp. He snaps back to reality, tightening his grip on Mark’s wrist. The look Mark gives him is almost enough to make him give up his plan and just fuck Mark right then. But he won’t. He’s been through too much to let him off so easily. He’s not that much taller than Mark, but he weighs more, just enough that when he pushes Mark onto the bed, he can hold him down. Straddles him and it’s clear Mark knows what’s going on.
He arches up, twisting under Gerald’s grip, but no longer trying to escape. Gerald leans down, brushing his mouth against Mark’s, teasing. He knows it’s mean, almost cruel and he can feel how much they both want this. But it’s not about Mark. Not now, not anymore. He shoves his hips down against Mark’s, thrusting once, then again as Mark writhes under him. He doesn’t love Mark, doesn’t even find him beautiful, not the way that Linus is. But he wants him, he wants him to understand how hard it is. How being second best, how coming in third, is never good enough. He thrusts again, then lets go of Mark, leaving him panting and surprised, just long enough that he can push Mark’s shirt off.
“This is how you want me, yeah?” Mark asks, still cocky, but also breathless, wanting.
Gerald doesn’t reply, just grins and he knows he’s won, at least for now. Mark’ll do anything once, well, almost anything. They all have their limits. But Gerald’s still in control as he bites Mark’s chest, leaving a trail of marks that won’t vanish overnight. He doesn’t care who sees, doesn’t care if the whole world knows whose they are. He does it because he can and Mark rewards him by moaning and shuddering.
He rests his hand against Mark’s cock, pressing it down roughly and Mark groans under him. It doesn’t take long for them to undress and he’s a little surprised at how eager Mark is. He refuses to dwell on it and instead sits on Mark's hips and reaches for his jeans. He pulls out a condom and lube and he watches as Mark’s face lights up. They’d only done this once before Gerald left Columbia. It was, now that he thinks about it, the last thing he’d done with Mark.
With a slight grin, he rips the condom open, sliding it over himself and then pushes off of Mark. Crawls between his legs, eyes never leaving Mark’s. Watches as Mark tips his head forward, waiting almost expectantly and he’s pleased that Mark wants this as much as he does, if only for the wrong reasons.
He squeezes lube onto his fingers, stroking himself several times and then looks at Mark. It’s the only time he’ll ask for permission, but he wants to know if it’s okay to hurt him. Mark nods, just barely visible in the twilight of the hotel room. It’s all Gerald needs and he pushes against Mark, then into him. He’s tight and he knows it must burn, but it’s fine. It’s almost perfect (but he’s had perfect, and that’s who’s waiting for him back in his own hotel room). He thrusts hard, fast and rough and Mark whimpers, then moans louder.
Gerald leans in, he doesn’t need people knocking on the door, not when they’re so close. He kisses Mark hard, rough and intense. He pours everything into the kiss, his hate, depression, his longing and his need to be better than this. To be better than Mark. Everything he cannot have goes into the kiss. Mark kisses him back, equally rough and so intense that for a moment Gerald forgets to move. It passes and they find a rhythm.
The room spins around them, silence filled with the sounds of sex. With Mark’s heavy breathing and soft grunts. Gerald keeps himself quiet, biting his the inside of his cheek so hard he knows it’ll bleed sooner than later. He palms Mark’s cock once, then lets go, for a moment only concentrating on getting himself off.
“I hate you.” He murmurs into Mark’s ear. “I hate everything about you. About your team. You’re a cocky fucking bastard who doesn’t know anything.” The words are effortless, cruel and he doesn’t care.
Mark shudders under him and he knows Mark doesn’t care either. Gerald moves faster now, close and breathing hard enough that he can’t really say anything else. He comes first, thrusts until he's buried deep inside Mark. He stops, only just keeping himself from collapsing on top of Mark. He looks down and Mark’s watching, a little wide-eyed, but not innocent. He knows he ought to get Mark off, ought to do something. So he reaches down, sliding his hand along Mark's cock, stroking slowly, but only as distraction. He pulls out, hand still on Mark's cock as he pulls the condom off. Curls his fingers tight, pulling roughly and then, as Mark arches up, he lets go. Mark gives him a look, wanting and needy, but Gerald's already crawling off the bed.
He dresses quickly, before Mark really has a chance to react. One last look at the bed, at the way Mark's lying there on his back, flushed and wanting and then he's heading toward the door. Shirt over his hand and he doesn't even say goodbye. He doesn't care and even if he did, he won't let himself care. By the time he makes it back to the hotel room he shares with Linus, he's shaking. He can't even get the key in the lock and he's almost convinced himself to go back. But the door opens and Linus is there. He gathers Gerald into his arms, kissing his face, his shoulders through his shirt, along his neck, toward his throat.
Linus doesn't ask, though Gerald's sure he knows. How could he not, with all the bullshit Gerald was yelling after the race. He's grateful, though, kissing Linus back hard. And as they crawl into bed, as Linus wraps himself around Gerald, he realizes that it doesn't matter. None of it matters. In the end, he did exactly what he wanted to do.
Pairing: Gerald Ciolek/Mark Cavendish
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: This is not real, this never happened. I don't know them and this is all fiction. Made up stuff.
Warnings: There's some dubious consent in this fic. Not strictly non-con, but close.
Author's Notes: Beta by metafic. For the record, I really adore Gerald and Mark, but right now I'm definitely in the mood for loving Ger.
---
Gerald hopes that when he finally finds Mark, Mark won’t have any idea what hit him. It hurt, watching him win stage after stage. And Gerald can’t help but admit that it felt good to see Mark disqualified. Not that he has any love for Thor. More like a quiet, seething hatred for all his opponents. Like every good sprinter, he knows how to hold a grudge and he still hasn’t forgiven Mark for being better than he is.
He’s not as cocky as most, if only because he doesn’t have the results to back it up. Sure, he’s won races in his career, but never five at the Tour and never the green jersey. He’s not ashamed to admit, though Linus tells him he should be, that he’s jealous of both Mark and Thor. And while he has reason to hate Thor, at least for now, it’s Mark that’s driving him crazy.
There’s a part of him that knows he shouldn’t blame Mark. After all, it’s not his fault that Milram’s not Columbia, that he’s not as good a sprinter as Mark. Nor is it Mark’s fault that he left Columbia, except for the fact that it is. He wanted to stay, he wanted to have the support, the respect. But Mark is their darling, their team leader without even being called that. And Gerald knew he didn’t belong. And when Linus asked, come to Milram with me there was no way Gerald was going to say no. It’s not like he could’ve refused, even though he wanted to.
Thoughts of revenge on the Champs-Élysées swirl around in his head. He knows, just like he’s sure Thor does, that given half a chance, given a bad day for Mark, he could take on the world. He could show Columbia what they’re missing. Except he knows it’ll never happen. Mark’s perfect and that’s why Gerald hates him. That’s why he wants him so much. Needs him, craves the attention like a drug. Linus is good, treats him right, but Gerald spends more time picking up the pieces than anything else even though they both know Gerald will always go back to Linus. But for now at least, he wants to tear things apart, wants to prove, if only to himself, that he’s capable of destruction instead of sitting quietly and letting everything pass him by.
Which is how he finds himself outside of Mark’s door, with only two days (three nights) left in the Tour. Maybe he should have done this weeks ago, months ago, or even before he left last year. But, he thinks right before he knocks, there’s no time like the present. His knock is sharp, quick and he knows Mark must recognize it. It was their signal when they wanted to get away and pretend they weren’t sprinters or professional cyclists or even divas. He wonders, as the door opens, who Mark thinks is standing out there. The shock on his face makes Gerald smile.
He doesn’t wait for an invitation, knows if he does the door’ll just slam shut in his face. So he pushes in, praying the room is empty. It is and that’s when he notices that there’s no evidence of another person. No roommate to get in the way, no roommate to lie to. Gerald turns and finds Mark watching him, a bemused look on his face.
“Did you miss me?” Mark’s voice is lazy, condescending in ways Gerald forgot were even possible. His boyish looks are marred by a sneer, and yet Gerald cannot deny that Mark is who he wants.
He steps in, pushing Mark toward the door without even touching him. “That’s one way to look at it.”
His English is worse than when he was on Columbia, but he knows Mark understands. He steps closer, until he’s mere inches away from Mark. No reaction and Gerald hadn’t expected any, Mark doesn’t know what’s coming, there’s no way he can know. Even under all his cockiness, under that mask of being better than everyone, he’s just a little boy. Though he’s younger than Mark, Gerald understands the difference between confidence and cockiness. He’s watched enough interviews with sprinters to know that Mark’s not quite the man he hopes to be and that suits Gerald just fine.
He steps in again, fast and shoves Mark back. Maybe this should wait, he thinks as Mark stumbles back, surprised. But the look on Mark’s face, a bit greedy, tells Gerald all he needs to know. He steps in close, shoving Mark again and then they’re pressed hard against the door.
“On second thought,” he starts, voice just a whisper, lips moving against Mark’s ear, “I didn’t miss you at all.” And that’s when he kisses him, pushing his mouth almost violently against Mark’s. He bites, tugging at Mark’s lips and kissing him until he has no choice but to kiss back.
Much to Gerald’s surprise and inward joy, Mark struggles against him. Not quite trying to push Gerald off, but letting him know he’s not really happy about this. Gerald finds he doesn’t care. If Mark says no, he’ll stop. If Mark asks him to leave, he will. But if Mark says nothing, like Gerald knows he’ll do, he’s not leaving. He presses Mark back against the door again, rough as he kisses him harder. Pushes his knee between Mark’s legs and for a moment he remembers the way things used to be.
They used to sneak into the bus in the middle of the night, make out until dawn and pretend to have slept poorly the next day. It was only when George found them that they’d stopped. But even then only for a few days before they were at it again. Gerald felt like he couldn’t get enough of Mark. He’d wake up, hard and sweaty with thoughts of Mark’s mouth on him. Then everything changed and he’s secretly hoping this will get Mark out of his system forever.
Mark pushes back, catching Gerald off guard, but only for a moment. Gerald shoves him in return, making Mark’s head almost bounce off the door. He knows he has to be careful, if only so that no one barges in on them. He pins Mark to the door, knee between his legs, one hand on his shoulder. He leans in, pressing their bodies flush together and locks the chain on the door with his other hand.
He leans in again, biting at Mark’s neck this time. Moves up, toward his throat and he hears Mark gasp. A soft, sweet sound that is nothing like the man he’s become. It’s a memory of light rain on the top of a bus in the middle of August. Of sweat and the thrill of almost getting caught. But then Gerald bites again, hard enough to leave a mark, but not one that’ll last the night. Mark squirms under him, fighting back a little and Gerald grabs his hands, pinning them over his head.
“Fight back, if you want,” he says, taking his time to enunciate each word. And he means it, he wants Mark to fight, not to give up, or in, so easily.
He’s not surprised, just happy, when Mark obliges. There’s a wicked little grin that flits across Mark’s face and it sends shivers down Gerald’s spine. This is why he’s here and he pulls Mark away from the door. More violently than necessary, but there’s a part of him that knows Mark likes this. They were never anything but gentle and sweet. Not anymore and he can hear Linus’ words echoing around in his head. But then you grow up and everything’s harder, darker. Gerald knows Linus was right, he’s always right and tonight’s no exception.
His mind wanders a bit, just enough so that Mark can twist almost out of his grasp. He snaps back to reality, tightening his grip on Mark’s wrist. The look Mark gives him is almost enough to make him give up his plan and just fuck Mark right then. But he won’t. He’s been through too much to let him off so easily. He’s not that much taller than Mark, but he weighs more, just enough that when he pushes Mark onto the bed, he can hold him down. Straddles him and it’s clear Mark knows what’s going on.
He arches up, twisting under Gerald’s grip, but no longer trying to escape. Gerald leans down, brushing his mouth against Mark’s, teasing. He knows it’s mean, almost cruel and he can feel how much they both want this. But it’s not about Mark. Not now, not anymore. He shoves his hips down against Mark’s, thrusting once, then again as Mark writhes under him. He doesn’t love Mark, doesn’t even find him beautiful, not the way that Linus is. But he wants him, he wants him to understand how hard it is. How being second best, how coming in third, is never good enough. He thrusts again, then lets go of Mark, leaving him panting and surprised, just long enough that he can push Mark’s shirt off.
“This is how you want me, yeah?” Mark asks, still cocky, but also breathless, wanting.
Gerald doesn’t reply, just grins and he knows he’s won, at least for now. Mark’ll do anything once, well, almost anything. They all have their limits. But Gerald’s still in control as he bites Mark’s chest, leaving a trail of marks that won’t vanish overnight. He doesn’t care who sees, doesn’t care if the whole world knows whose they are. He does it because he can and Mark rewards him by moaning and shuddering.
He rests his hand against Mark’s cock, pressing it down roughly and Mark groans under him. It doesn’t take long for them to undress and he’s a little surprised at how eager Mark is. He refuses to dwell on it and instead sits on Mark's hips and reaches for his jeans. He pulls out a condom and lube and he watches as Mark’s face lights up. They’d only done this once before Gerald left Columbia. It was, now that he thinks about it, the last thing he’d done with Mark.
With a slight grin, he rips the condom open, sliding it over himself and then pushes off of Mark. Crawls between his legs, eyes never leaving Mark’s. Watches as Mark tips his head forward, waiting almost expectantly and he’s pleased that Mark wants this as much as he does, if only for the wrong reasons.
He squeezes lube onto his fingers, stroking himself several times and then looks at Mark. It’s the only time he’ll ask for permission, but he wants to know if it’s okay to hurt him. Mark nods, just barely visible in the twilight of the hotel room. It’s all Gerald needs and he pushes against Mark, then into him. He’s tight and he knows it must burn, but it’s fine. It’s almost perfect (but he’s had perfect, and that’s who’s waiting for him back in his own hotel room). He thrusts hard, fast and rough and Mark whimpers, then moans louder.
Gerald leans in, he doesn’t need people knocking on the door, not when they’re so close. He kisses Mark hard, rough and intense. He pours everything into the kiss, his hate, depression, his longing and his need to be better than this. To be better than Mark. Everything he cannot have goes into the kiss. Mark kisses him back, equally rough and so intense that for a moment Gerald forgets to move. It passes and they find a rhythm.
The room spins around them, silence filled with the sounds of sex. With Mark’s heavy breathing and soft grunts. Gerald keeps himself quiet, biting his the inside of his cheek so hard he knows it’ll bleed sooner than later. He palms Mark’s cock once, then lets go, for a moment only concentrating on getting himself off.
“I hate you.” He murmurs into Mark’s ear. “I hate everything about you. About your team. You’re a cocky fucking bastard who doesn’t know anything.” The words are effortless, cruel and he doesn’t care.
Mark shudders under him and he knows Mark doesn’t care either. Gerald moves faster now, close and breathing hard enough that he can’t really say anything else. He comes first, thrusts until he's buried deep inside Mark. He stops, only just keeping himself from collapsing on top of Mark. He looks down and Mark’s watching, a little wide-eyed, but not innocent. He knows he ought to get Mark off, ought to do something. So he reaches down, sliding his hand along Mark's cock, stroking slowly, but only as distraction. He pulls out, hand still on Mark's cock as he pulls the condom off. Curls his fingers tight, pulling roughly and then, as Mark arches up, he lets go. Mark gives him a look, wanting and needy, but Gerald's already crawling off the bed.
He dresses quickly, before Mark really has a chance to react. One last look at the bed, at the way Mark's lying there on his back, flushed and wanting and then he's heading toward the door. Shirt over his hand and he doesn't even say goodbye. He doesn't care and even if he did, he won't let himself care. By the time he makes it back to the hotel room he shares with Linus, he's shaking. He can't even get the key in the lock and he's almost convinced himself to go back. But the door opens and Linus is there. He gathers Gerald into his arms, kissing his face, his shoulders through his shirt, along his neck, toward his throat.
Linus doesn't ask, though Gerald's sure he knows. How could he not, with all the bullshit Gerald was yelling after the race. He's grateful, though, kissing Linus back hard. And as they crawl into bed, as Linus wraps himself around Gerald, he realizes that it doesn't matter. None of it matters. In the end, he did exactly what he wanted to do.