Fic: A Question of Ownership (Sequel to "After The Party")
Title: A Question of Ownership
Author: Kaellite
Disclaimer: I have no affiliation with Mark, Chris or Jonathan and all would be appalled by this. No profit is being made or sought by this endeavor of imagination, strictly for fun, please don’t sue.
Warnings: Curse words? Implied future D/S…
Word Count: 848
Rating: R (to be on the safe side)
Summary: Mark decides he’ll take care of Chris but there need to be some rules for starters...
Spoilers: None.
A/N: This is a sequel (as requested) to “After the party” Please let me know if you’d like me to continue (and BTW, I have ¼ of part 3 written)
He’s going to hell! Not that he believes everything the Ministers told him growing up in Texas. Take Chris for instance (and he’d like to so he’s back to the ‘going to hell’ bit), if God made all living things, then he made Chris and there is nothing bad about the boy at all. He’s as close to an angel as Mark can imagine anyone being, if angels were fun to be around. Mark, himself, on the other hand is going directly to the seventh circle, that is if he doesn’t turn his truck around at the next light, and he’s going to do just that. Mark’s going to take Chris back to his own car, follow him home, make sure he’s inside safely, tuck him into bed, crawl on top of him…
Turn the truck around Salling. “You are allowed to talk you know.” If Chris talks he’ll remember why this is a bad idea.
“Sorry, I was just thinking.”
About what a pervert I am? “About this?”
“Yes, and that it’s the first time I’ve been alone with any of you, or anyone really.”
What? “You’ve never? But you must go out?”
“Just with you guys.” Chris shifts in his seat, and out of the corner of his eye Mark can see how serious he is. “If you go out alone, to a club, people get the message that you’re looking for something, that you might be willing to go home or someplace else with him and that wasn’t going to happen.”
What’s unsaid is evident in the trust emanating from Chris’ eyes. Now Mark knows he should stop the truck, hail Chris a cab before he does something they’ll both regret. He’s in so far over his head here it’s not funny. He should take the kid home, let him find someone who knows how this is done; someone with experience.
Only his mind supplies images of some older guy using Chris for his own pleasure and not giving a crap about this amazing kid.
“You okay? You look like you’re about to break the steering wheel. Sir?”
One little word and he’s gone; no going back. All the voices in his head, so loud they block out LA traffic, are silenced by the one screaming ‘Okay, you’re a perv, but better a perv who loves the kid then one who doesn’t.’ and FUCK if that isn’t scary to admit; all of it. Pulling off sharply into a parking lot, Mark undoes his seat belt and pins Chris against the window.
“Okay, if we’re going to do this there are some rules. More to come, but these will do for starters. One, you tell me and right away if anything makes you uncomfortable or scares you or is hurting you, or if you plain don’t like it. It’s my job to take care of you and I can’t do that if I don’t know what’s going on.”
“Two, on camera you do what the script tells you to do, but off? Off, Baby Boy, you don’t let anyone kiss you or touch you but me. Three, I’m the boss. It’s old fashioned and lame and I know you’re a guy but that’s how it works with me. When you’re with me, I’m in charge and I take care of you.”
Part of him expects (fears) that Chris will jump out of the vehicle and run, instead he just smiles like he’s won the Oscar, Tony, Emmy and Grammy all in one night and says “Yes Sir.”
Okay then, they’re doing this now, so he can touch. Given permission, his fingers trace the boy’s (his boy, a voice in his head whispers) cheekbones, and lips, the pad of his thumb rubbing against Chris’ lower lip, slipping in when that gorgeous mouth opens. Fuck!
“Next rule, Baby Boy. We go at my speed.” No way is he rushing this. Chris might think he’s ready for all of it, all of Mark, but the man knows better. Hell, Mark’s not ready! He’s going to have to do some research. Yeah, he knows it’s a matter of going through the back door and stuff, but he’s not going to hurt Chris, he won’t risk that, so he’s got some things to look into.
Fastening his seatbelt with resolve, he puts the truck in gear again, and it’s only a matter of minutes before they’re at the burger joint and Chris is reaching for the door handle. “Not yet Baby Boy.”
Mark tangles his fingers in those chestnut locks and lets himself imagine (for just a second) what Chris will look like with bed-head, from his bed, and smirks as Chris parts his lips in anticipation of the kiss he’s expecting. There'll be time for that after he feeds his boy, right now there’s a pressing question of ownership. Sinking his teeth in the long column that is his boy’s neck, Mark sucks and laves at the spot until a dark bloom has formed.
“Mine!” The growl that one word comes out of would do Puck proud, he thinks.
“Yours.”
A/N: TBC? You tell me.