Fic: Probability (Brotherhood II, Harlan/Marcus, NC17)
It took me all day and three abortive attempts, but I finally have fic. This one's for Lynne, who I didn't actually know until a few days ago, when she made a really sweet and incredibly generous gesture that warrants way more thanks than just fic. But fic's all I've got to give, so here I am. Also kinda sorta for foggynite, because I'm a little bit in love with her Harlan/Marcus seems to make her so happy.
Harlan/Marcus, post-post-movie, completely separate from my current series although I kind of want to continue this one too and I think we all saw that coming.
He's not sure what he's doing here. He always heard that spring break was about sand and booze and naked coeds, but he's halfway through his first spring break and there's no sand or nakedness in sight.
There is booze, though, and that's the only thing getting him through his cousin's wedding reception. A cousin he's pretty sure he's never met, because his parents shipped him off to school as often as possible when he was a kid and he never spent much time with the family. Not that he's complaining, because what he has seen of them he hasn't liked all that much, and today's no exception. The party's mostly made up of rich people talking business, and since dinner ended Marcus has been steadily inching toward the door.
He's almost there when he collides with something solid, wincing and turning to find himself face to face with somebody he never thought he'd see again. His heart sinks at the sight of the familiar smile, hand clenching too hard around his drink and he has to fight the urge to down all of it in one desperate gulp.
"Hey, Ratner. Didn't expect to see you here."
And he even sounds the same, which just isn't fair. Because Marcus hates him - has every reason to - but even after all this time Marcus still kind of wants him, and when Harlan leans a little closer Marcus tries hard not to notice how good he smells.
"I didn't expect to see you ever," Marcus says, willing his body not to react to Harlan's laugh.
"No kidding. I heard you fucked off to France or something after graduation."
"England," Marcus corrects automatically, flushing as the words escape his mouth because Harlan doesn't give a damn where he goes to college. "Oxford."
He looks almost impressed, though, and Marcus wishes he hadn't been so distracted trying not to let his mother see him sneaking out, because if he'd seen Harlan before he ran right into him he could have avoided this whole scene.
"Yeah? That's cool," Harlan says, still leaning way too close for Marcus' comfort and he can smell the whiskey on Harlan's breath. Wonders how much he's had to drink and just how much he remembers about high school. Marcus still remembers everything, remembers that scene in the locker room with Randall and Alex and the feel of Harlan's chest pressed against his back. He still dreams about those strong hands on his thighs sometimes, only in his dreams they're alone and Harlan doesn't stop with just a little teasing. Then there are the other dreams, filled with blood and he wishes he'd wake up screaming, because at least then he might feel a little more penitent about what he did.
"Something to do, anyway," Marcus answers, hoping he doesn't sound as nervous as he feels. He glances involuntarily toward the door, flushing when Harlan catches him and grins.
"You're not bailing already, are you? The bar's open all night."
"Yeah, well, it's not really my scene."
"It's a wedding, Marcus. It's nobody's scene," Harlan says, grinning in that way that used to make Marcus' knees weak. Still does, apparently, because he feels himself wobble a little and wishes he hadn't had three screwdrivers.
"What are you doing here, anyway?"
"The groom's one of my father's business partners," Harlan answers, gesturing vaguely toward the dance floor where everyone's making a big deal of Marcus' cousin and her new husband. "One of the drawbacks of going to work for your old man, you get stuck doing shit like this."
Marcus nods and lifts his drink, swallowing the rest of it and letting the vodka warm his stomach. "So you're not going to college?"
"That's one of the perks of going to work for your old man," Harlan answers, grinning that grin again and Marcus' stomach pitches violently. "So what are you doing here?"
"Your father's business partner married my cousin," he answers, glancing around distractedly and if he doesn't sit down soon he's going to fall down. Or worse, throw up, and then he'll never be able to face Harlan again. Not that he plans to see Harlan ever again, but he's starting to think the universe hates him enough to keep fucking with him.
"You okay?"
"I'm fine," Marcus lies, but he feels a little clammy and when Harlan reaches out to grip his arm he knows he's not fooling anybody.
"Jesus, Marcus, you look like shit. How much did you drink?"
Harlan doesn't wait for an answer; he pushes Marcus ahead of him out of the room, down a too-long hall to the bank of elevators that leads to the top of the hotel. "Where…where are we going?" he asks when Harlan pushes the up button, hand still firm on Marcus' arm and he's trying not to picture Harlan taking him to the boiler room and kicking the shit out of him for old times' sake.
"My room," Harlan answers, glancing over at Marcus and shaking his head. Like it should be obvious. Like there's a universe in which any of this makes sense. "Jesus, Marcus."
"You keep saying that," Marcus murmurs, but he feels a little weak and he doesn't protest when Harlan slides an arm around his waist and helps him onto the elevator.
"Sorry," Harlan says, still grinning like there's some joke Marcus isn't getting. "I just didn't figure on you getting sick on me the first time we ran into each other."
Harlan's helping him back off the elevator again before his words finally catch up with Marcus, echoing in his head and he's pretty sure there's something in there that doesn't make any sense. "Wait. You…thought about this?"
"About holding your hair while you puke? No," Harlan answers, propping Marcus against the wall while he digs for his room key. Finally he gets the door open and ushers Marcus inside, dropping him onto the edge of the bed before he disappears into the bathroom.
"I'm not going to puke," Marcus calls after him. He means it - at least he thinks he does, because he's feeling a little better now that he's out of the stifling heat of the reception. The vodka's still sloshing around in his stomach, but it's a little less nauseating than it was and he reaches up to loosen his tie.
"Drink this," Harlan says when he reappears, shoving a glass of opaque liquid in front of Marcus and he can't help being a little suspicious. "Relax, Ratner, it's not poison. It's just Alka-Seltzer."
Marcus swallows a relieved sigh and reaches for the glass, wincing at the taste before he forces half of it down. For a minute he feels even worse, but then his stomach settles a little and he has to admit that it's actually helping.
"Why are you being nice to me?"
"What?"
"No offense, it's just…you were always kind of an asshole in school."
"Yeah, well, everybody's gotta grow up sometime," Harlan answers, laughing that laugh of his again and Marcus can't help grinning back at him. "Look, I've gotta go back downstairs for awhile, but you should stay here, try to get some rest or something. Nobody's gonna thank you for puking at the reception."
"I told you, I'm not going to puke."
"Right," Harlan says, and it's obvious from his tone that he doesn't believe Marcus. "Just get some rest. I'll be back in awhile."
A few seconds later he's gone, and Marcus thinks about following him. He thinks about getting back on the elevator and riding all the way down to the lobby, past the reception and out of the hotel. He wouldn't stop until he reached the airport, and in less than a day he could be back in his tiny rented room near campus. But Harlan's bed is really comfortable, and it wouldn't hurt to close his eyes for a few minutes. He can still be gone before Harlan gets back, and in a few days it'll be like none of this ever happened.
~
When he opens his eyes again it's to the sound of the door opening, and he blinks a few times before he sits up to watch Harlan slide his jacket off. His tie's next, tossed carelessly on the back of a chair as he crosses to the bathroom. Marcus knows he should get up, slide his shoes back on and get out while he can, but he still feels a little weak and before he works up the energy to do more than sit up Harlan's walking out of the bathroom.
"I thought you were asleep," Harlan says, but he's grinning like he's glad to see Marcus, and this has to be some kind of crazy dream. He's probably back at school and he stayed up too late and ate too much curry for dinner, and now he's having some kind of fucked-up sex dream about Harlan. It wouldn't be the first time, after all, but so far there's no sex in this sex dream and Marcus is starting to hope he wakes up before they get to the good part.
"I was," he answers, forcing himself to his feet but as soon as he stands up the floor moves on him and he sits down hard.
Harlan's next to him in a second, hand on his forehead and this is definitely some fucked up dream, because there's no way Harlan Ratcliffe is feeling for a temperature. But he feels real, and he smells as good as Marcus remembers and in his dreams Harlan would have torn all his clothes off by now. This Harlan's not tearing anything off - he's just…looking, like he's having as hard a time as Marcus believing this is real.
"Look, Harlan," he says at the same time that Harlan says, "Marcus," and when they laugh Marcus knows he sounds nervous. Harlan doesn't; he's pretty sure Harlan's never been nervous in his life, but he's also pretty sure Harlan's never had a reason to sound nervous. He's the kind of guy who's never had to worry about anything, who gets what he wants just for the asking, and there's no way he wants Marcus.
"Are you staying in the hotel?" Harlan asks, glancing at Marcus' rumpled tux like maybe he'll be able to see a room key through Marcus' clothes.
Marcus shakes his head, and it doesn't make him feel as dizzy as he expects it to. "I drove up with my folks."
"Well you're staying here tonight," Harlan says, like there's no arguing the point. Like he knows what's best, even though they haven't seen each other in almost a year. Like they were ever friends, and that's the part Marcus doesn't get.
"Can't," Marcus answers, trying to stand up again only to sit down hard when Harlan catches his shoulders and pushes.
"Why the fuck not?"
"Because I can't," he says, and this is getting ridiculous. Harlan doesn't know him anymore - never really did - and he definitely doesn't care what happens to Marcus. He doesn't have a reason to, and even if he did that doesn't mean he can just tell Marcus what to do. "Would you just…Jesus, Harlan, let go."
He's still holding Marcus down, standing in front of him to block any escape attempts and just for a second Marcus feels just as trapped as he did that day in the locker room. It wasn't that long ago, and even though Harlan seems like he's changed, nobody changes that much.
"You were always so fucking stubborn."
"Oh, you should talk," Marcus shoots back, dizziness and his weak stomach forgotten as he shoves Harlan's hands off him and stands up. And that was a bad idea, because now they're chest to chest and so close he can feel Harlan's breath on his mouth. "You were always a bully."
He expects Harlan to be pissed, but instead he just grins and grabs the front of Marcus' shirt. Marcus braces himself for the punch, but it never comes. Instead Harlan drags him closer, practically nose to nose and close enough for Marcus to feel Harlan's voice vibrating against his mouth. "I was just trying to get your attention, Marcus."
Before Marcus can answer he's being kissed, hard and insistent and when he gasps Harlan's tongue slides into his mouth. It takes him a few seconds, but finally his brain catches up enough to kiss back. His hands land on Harlan's hips, dragging Harlan with him when the other man pushes him back onto the bed. And he knows he should stop this before it goes any further, because they never really liked each other and this isn't going anywhere.
But he's thought about it way too long to give up his one shot at this fantasy, so he doesn't complain when Harlan pulls away to unbutton his shirt. And it's hard not to squirm under that intense gaze, but somehow he manages not to blush as Harlan pushes his shirt open. Strong hands slide along his skin, and he can't quite suppress a shiver when Harlan's thumb strokes his nipple.
He's thought about this a million times, but he's never actually done it, and he's terrified of screwing it up. Of being bad at it, and then Harlan's only real memory of him will be of an awkward, fumbling loser who couldn't even get a one-night stand right. But so far Harlan's not complaining; in fact, his hands are exploring Marcus' skin like he's thought about this a lot, and that gives Marcus the confidence he needs to tug Harlan's shirt out of his tuxedo pants.
His fingers skim across warm skin, dipping below Harlan's waistband and just the thought that he's touching Harlan Ratcliffe sends a little thrill through him. He's still not sure how it happened, but he's not about to question it. And if it does turn out to be a dream he just hopes he stays asleep until it's over, because he has a feeling he's going to remember every detail of this.
Harlan leans in for another kiss, giving Marcus access to the warm skin stretched across his back. He kisses like he touches: slow and deliberate, searching like he wants to remember every detail. Marcus knows the feeling, and when Harlan pulls away it's all he can do not to pull the other man close again. But before he has the chance Harlan's mouth is pressed against his neck, nuzzling the soft skin there until Marcus is panting and thrusting up against him.
"I knew you'd be like this," Harlan murmurs, punctuating each word with a kiss along Marcus' skin. "I knew how good you'd feel under me."
He wants to ask how long Harlan's been thinking about it, but he can't remember how to work his voice. It's all he can do to get Harlan's shirt unbuttoned far enough for him to pull it over his head, and when Harlan's bare-chested and straddling his lap Marcus thinks he might come just from that. But he's not some teenager…okay, technically he is, but he's old enough to control himself so he pushes down the urge to come and focuses on getting Harlan's pants open.
Later he won't know where he got the courage to undress Harlan without being coaxed into it, but then again, three years of fantasizing are a powerful motivator. Not that it matters, because as soon as he gets Harlan's zipper down the other man's sliding off him, pushing down pants and underwear and finally socks and once Harlan's naked in front of him Marcus has to remind himself to breathe. He's scrambling out of his own pants before he can stop himself, but Harlan just grins and helps him tug them down.
When they're both naked Harlan climbs over him again, holding himself just above Marcus without actually touching anything. He leans in for a chaste kiss, resisting Marcus' attempts to pull him down until they're pressed together. And maybe he's not a bully anymore, but he's a tease, and Marcus isn't sure which is worse. He's still trying to decide when Harlan finally stretches out on top of him, pushing Marcus' legs apart to settle between them.
Marcus groans against his mouth and thrusts up, one leg hooked around Harlan's waist to pull them closer together and Harlan's hand lands on his thigh to hold him there. His other hand slides through Marcus' hair, tilting his head just so until their mouths fit together like they were made for this. Marcus can taste traces of whiskey in Harlan's mouth, and he chases the flavor with his tongue until Harlan's moaning against him. And that must mean he's doing something right, so he slides his hands down Harlan's back to trace the curve of his spine.
The hand on his thigh slides lower, pushing under Marcus to cup his ass and he gasps when Harlan's finger brushes against his opening. "Anybody ever fucked you before?"
For a second Marcus doesn't know how to answer; he doesn't want to admit that he doesn't know what he's doing, but he has a feeling Harlan can tell already. He knows he's blushing, feels the flush all the way down his chest and when Harlan glances down Marcus knows he feels it too.
"Nobody? What do you do over at that college of yours?"
"Study, mostly," Marcus answers, blushing even hotter now and he doesn't look up to see Harlan laughing at him. He doesn't have to - he can hear it, and he wishes now that he had lied. But before he can tell Harlan this was a mistake Harlan's kissing him again, mouth hot against his collarbone. He works his way down Marcus' chest, stopping to tease each sensitive spot with his tongue until Marcus can't even remember what he was so embarrassed about a few minutes ago.
He's splayed in the center of the bed, legs spread wide and when Harlan's tongue dips into his navel he thrusts up convulsively. That earns him another laugh and then Harlan's moving again, avoiding Marcus' cock to press kisses along his inner thighs. And yeah, he's definitely a tease, but Marcus is way too far gone to complain. He's so into it that he doesn't think to be nervous when Harlan's hands slide under his thighs, pushing his knees up and toward his chest to open him even further.
It doesn't dawn on him what Harlan has in mind until he feels the first press of wet heat against his opening, Harlan's tongue pushing inside him and his eyes roll back at the sensation. He hears himself murmuring under his breath, things like 'fuck' and 'God' and 'Harlan', and it doesn't even matter that they all mean pretty much the same thing. They all translate to 'more' - maybe 'harder', too, because Harlan picks up speed until Marcus is moaning and shaking his head against the mattress.
And Harlan's definitely done this before, but Marcus doesn't want to know when or with who. It doesn't matter, because this shouldn't be happening in the first place and even if it's not a dream it's all going to be over tomorrow. The thought is way too disappointing for Marcus to contemplate, though, so he focuses on the tongue working him open and when a finger pushes inside him Marcus gasps and clenches hard around it.
It takes him a few seconds to relax, but when he does Harlan pulls his finger out and slides back in again. And it feels…weird, but better than he expected. He finds himself pushing down into it, moaning at the twin sensations of Harlan's finger and his tongue. Then Harlan's tongue is gone and he pushes a second finger inside, and Marcus feels like he's being stretched to his limit. He can't imagine Harlan's cock inside him, but the thought makes him even harder anyway and when Harlan's mouth finally - finally - closes around his cock he knows he's not going to last long.
He'd be embarrassed if it all didn't feel so good, but Harlan's doing things with his tongue that Marcus would never be able to imagine and when his fingers twist inside Marcus he gasps and comes. "Sorry," he says when Harlan pulls off him, because he knew he should have warned the other man but there was no time.
Harlan doesn't look all that bothered by it, though; in fact, he's smiling that smile again, running the back of his hand over his mouth and his fingers are still inside Marcus. He leans up to press their lips together, mouth open to let Marcus taste himself on Harlan's tongue. Marcus expects it to be gross, but it's mostly just really hot, and before he realizes what he's doing he's reaching between them to close his hand around Harlan's cock.
Harlan groans against his mouth and thrusts into his grip, cock already leaking against Marcus' stomach and it only takes a few quick strokes before Harlan's coming. Wet heat hits Marcus' fingers and his stomach, and he's not sure whether to be proud that he has that affect on Harlan or disappointed that it's over already. When Harlan's fingers slide out of him he settles on disappointed, but before he has too much time to think about it Harlan's pressing hot kisses against his neck and sliding a hand through the mess on his stomach.
"You're definitely staying here tonight," he murmurs against Marcus' skin, breath hot and sending a fresh shiver down Marcus' spine. He thinks about arguing just for the sake of it, but Harlan's warm and heavy against him and he figures that just this once, it won't kill him to let Harlan have his way.
Harlan/Marcus, post-post-movie, completely separate from my current series although I kind of want to continue this one too and I think we all saw that coming.
He's not sure what he's doing here. He always heard that spring break was about sand and booze and naked coeds, but he's halfway through his first spring break and there's no sand or nakedness in sight.
There is booze, though, and that's the only thing getting him through his cousin's wedding reception. A cousin he's pretty sure he's never met, because his parents shipped him off to school as often as possible when he was a kid and he never spent much time with the family. Not that he's complaining, because what he has seen of them he hasn't liked all that much, and today's no exception. The party's mostly made up of rich people talking business, and since dinner ended Marcus has been steadily inching toward the door.
He's almost there when he collides with something solid, wincing and turning to find himself face to face with somebody he never thought he'd see again. His heart sinks at the sight of the familiar smile, hand clenching too hard around his drink and he has to fight the urge to down all of it in one desperate gulp.
"Hey, Ratner. Didn't expect to see you here."
And he even sounds the same, which just isn't fair. Because Marcus hates him - has every reason to - but even after all this time Marcus still kind of wants him, and when Harlan leans a little closer Marcus tries hard not to notice how good he smells.
"I didn't expect to see you ever," Marcus says, willing his body not to react to Harlan's laugh.
"No kidding. I heard you fucked off to France or something after graduation."
"England," Marcus corrects automatically, flushing as the words escape his mouth because Harlan doesn't give a damn where he goes to college. "Oxford."
He looks almost impressed, though, and Marcus wishes he hadn't been so distracted trying not to let his mother see him sneaking out, because if he'd seen Harlan before he ran right into him he could have avoided this whole scene.
"Yeah? That's cool," Harlan says, still leaning way too close for Marcus' comfort and he can smell the whiskey on Harlan's breath. Wonders how much he's had to drink and just how much he remembers about high school. Marcus still remembers everything, remembers that scene in the locker room with Randall and Alex and the feel of Harlan's chest pressed against his back. He still dreams about those strong hands on his thighs sometimes, only in his dreams they're alone and Harlan doesn't stop with just a little teasing. Then there are the other dreams, filled with blood and he wishes he'd wake up screaming, because at least then he might feel a little more penitent about what he did.
"Something to do, anyway," Marcus answers, hoping he doesn't sound as nervous as he feels. He glances involuntarily toward the door, flushing when Harlan catches him and grins.
"You're not bailing already, are you? The bar's open all night."
"Yeah, well, it's not really my scene."
"It's a wedding, Marcus. It's nobody's scene," Harlan says, grinning in that way that used to make Marcus' knees weak. Still does, apparently, because he feels himself wobble a little and wishes he hadn't had three screwdrivers.
"What are you doing here, anyway?"
"The groom's one of my father's business partners," Harlan answers, gesturing vaguely toward the dance floor where everyone's making a big deal of Marcus' cousin and her new husband. "One of the drawbacks of going to work for your old man, you get stuck doing shit like this."
Marcus nods and lifts his drink, swallowing the rest of it and letting the vodka warm his stomach. "So you're not going to college?"
"That's one of the perks of going to work for your old man," Harlan answers, grinning that grin again and Marcus' stomach pitches violently. "So what are you doing here?"
"Your father's business partner married my cousin," he answers, glancing around distractedly and if he doesn't sit down soon he's going to fall down. Or worse, throw up, and then he'll never be able to face Harlan again. Not that he plans to see Harlan ever again, but he's starting to think the universe hates him enough to keep fucking with him.
"You okay?"
"I'm fine," Marcus lies, but he feels a little clammy and when Harlan reaches out to grip his arm he knows he's not fooling anybody.
"Jesus, Marcus, you look like shit. How much did you drink?"
Harlan doesn't wait for an answer; he pushes Marcus ahead of him out of the room, down a too-long hall to the bank of elevators that leads to the top of the hotel. "Where…where are we going?" he asks when Harlan pushes the up button, hand still firm on Marcus' arm and he's trying not to picture Harlan taking him to the boiler room and kicking the shit out of him for old times' sake.
"My room," Harlan answers, glancing over at Marcus and shaking his head. Like it should be obvious. Like there's a universe in which any of this makes sense. "Jesus, Marcus."
"You keep saying that," Marcus murmurs, but he feels a little weak and he doesn't protest when Harlan slides an arm around his waist and helps him onto the elevator.
"Sorry," Harlan says, still grinning like there's some joke Marcus isn't getting. "I just didn't figure on you getting sick on me the first time we ran into each other."
Harlan's helping him back off the elevator again before his words finally catch up with Marcus, echoing in his head and he's pretty sure there's something in there that doesn't make any sense. "Wait. You…thought about this?"
"About holding your hair while you puke? No," Harlan answers, propping Marcus against the wall while he digs for his room key. Finally he gets the door open and ushers Marcus inside, dropping him onto the edge of the bed before he disappears into the bathroom.
"I'm not going to puke," Marcus calls after him. He means it - at least he thinks he does, because he's feeling a little better now that he's out of the stifling heat of the reception. The vodka's still sloshing around in his stomach, but it's a little less nauseating than it was and he reaches up to loosen his tie.
"Drink this," Harlan says when he reappears, shoving a glass of opaque liquid in front of Marcus and he can't help being a little suspicious. "Relax, Ratner, it's not poison. It's just Alka-Seltzer."
Marcus swallows a relieved sigh and reaches for the glass, wincing at the taste before he forces half of it down. For a minute he feels even worse, but then his stomach settles a little and he has to admit that it's actually helping.
"Why are you being nice to me?"
"What?"
"No offense, it's just…you were always kind of an asshole in school."
"Yeah, well, everybody's gotta grow up sometime," Harlan answers, laughing that laugh of his again and Marcus can't help grinning back at him. "Look, I've gotta go back downstairs for awhile, but you should stay here, try to get some rest or something. Nobody's gonna thank you for puking at the reception."
"I told you, I'm not going to puke."
"Right," Harlan says, and it's obvious from his tone that he doesn't believe Marcus. "Just get some rest. I'll be back in awhile."
A few seconds later he's gone, and Marcus thinks about following him. He thinks about getting back on the elevator and riding all the way down to the lobby, past the reception and out of the hotel. He wouldn't stop until he reached the airport, and in less than a day he could be back in his tiny rented room near campus. But Harlan's bed is really comfortable, and it wouldn't hurt to close his eyes for a few minutes. He can still be gone before Harlan gets back, and in a few days it'll be like none of this ever happened.
~
When he opens his eyes again it's to the sound of the door opening, and he blinks a few times before he sits up to watch Harlan slide his jacket off. His tie's next, tossed carelessly on the back of a chair as he crosses to the bathroom. Marcus knows he should get up, slide his shoes back on and get out while he can, but he still feels a little weak and before he works up the energy to do more than sit up Harlan's walking out of the bathroom.
"I thought you were asleep," Harlan says, but he's grinning like he's glad to see Marcus, and this has to be some kind of crazy dream. He's probably back at school and he stayed up too late and ate too much curry for dinner, and now he's having some kind of fucked-up sex dream about Harlan. It wouldn't be the first time, after all, but so far there's no sex in this sex dream and Marcus is starting to hope he wakes up before they get to the good part.
"I was," he answers, forcing himself to his feet but as soon as he stands up the floor moves on him and he sits down hard.
Harlan's next to him in a second, hand on his forehead and this is definitely some fucked up dream, because there's no way Harlan Ratcliffe is feeling for a temperature. But he feels real, and he smells as good as Marcus remembers and in his dreams Harlan would have torn all his clothes off by now. This Harlan's not tearing anything off - he's just…looking, like he's having as hard a time as Marcus believing this is real.
"Look, Harlan," he says at the same time that Harlan says, "Marcus," and when they laugh Marcus knows he sounds nervous. Harlan doesn't; he's pretty sure Harlan's never been nervous in his life, but he's also pretty sure Harlan's never had a reason to sound nervous. He's the kind of guy who's never had to worry about anything, who gets what he wants just for the asking, and there's no way he wants Marcus.
"Are you staying in the hotel?" Harlan asks, glancing at Marcus' rumpled tux like maybe he'll be able to see a room key through Marcus' clothes.
Marcus shakes his head, and it doesn't make him feel as dizzy as he expects it to. "I drove up with my folks."
"Well you're staying here tonight," Harlan says, like there's no arguing the point. Like he knows what's best, even though they haven't seen each other in almost a year. Like they were ever friends, and that's the part Marcus doesn't get.
"Can't," Marcus answers, trying to stand up again only to sit down hard when Harlan catches his shoulders and pushes.
"Why the fuck not?"
"Because I can't," he says, and this is getting ridiculous. Harlan doesn't know him anymore - never really did - and he definitely doesn't care what happens to Marcus. He doesn't have a reason to, and even if he did that doesn't mean he can just tell Marcus what to do. "Would you just…Jesus, Harlan, let go."
He's still holding Marcus down, standing in front of him to block any escape attempts and just for a second Marcus feels just as trapped as he did that day in the locker room. It wasn't that long ago, and even though Harlan seems like he's changed, nobody changes that much.
"You were always so fucking stubborn."
"Oh, you should talk," Marcus shoots back, dizziness and his weak stomach forgotten as he shoves Harlan's hands off him and stands up. And that was a bad idea, because now they're chest to chest and so close he can feel Harlan's breath on his mouth. "You were always a bully."
He expects Harlan to be pissed, but instead he just grins and grabs the front of Marcus' shirt. Marcus braces himself for the punch, but it never comes. Instead Harlan drags him closer, practically nose to nose and close enough for Marcus to feel Harlan's voice vibrating against his mouth. "I was just trying to get your attention, Marcus."
Before Marcus can answer he's being kissed, hard and insistent and when he gasps Harlan's tongue slides into his mouth. It takes him a few seconds, but finally his brain catches up enough to kiss back. His hands land on Harlan's hips, dragging Harlan with him when the other man pushes him back onto the bed. And he knows he should stop this before it goes any further, because they never really liked each other and this isn't going anywhere.
But he's thought about it way too long to give up his one shot at this fantasy, so he doesn't complain when Harlan pulls away to unbutton his shirt. And it's hard not to squirm under that intense gaze, but somehow he manages not to blush as Harlan pushes his shirt open. Strong hands slide along his skin, and he can't quite suppress a shiver when Harlan's thumb strokes his nipple.
He's thought about this a million times, but he's never actually done it, and he's terrified of screwing it up. Of being bad at it, and then Harlan's only real memory of him will be of an awkward, fumbling loser who couldn't even get a one-night stand right. But so far Harlan's not complaining; in fact, his hands are exploring Marcus' skin like he's thought about this a lot, and that gives Marcus the confidence he needs to tug Harlan's shirt out of his tuxedo pants.
His fingers skim across warm skin, dipping below Harlan's waistband and just the thought that he's touching Harlan Ratcliffe sends a little thrill through him. He's still not sure how it happened, but he's not about to question it. And if it does turn out to be a dream he just hopes he stays asleep until it's over, because he has a feeling he's going to remember every detail of this.
Harlan leans in for another kiss, giving Marcus access to the warm skin stretched across his back. He kisses like he touches: slow and deliberate, searching like he wants to remember every detail. Marcus knows the feeling, and when Harlan pulls away it's all he can do not to pull the other man close again. But before he has the chance Harlan's mouth is pressed against his neck, nuzzling the soft skin there until Marcus is panting and thrusting up against him.
"I knew you'd be like this," Harlan murmurs, punctuating each word with a kiss along Marcus' skin. "I knew how good you'd feel under me."
He wants to ask how long Harlan's been thinking about it, but he can't remember how to work his voice. It's all he can do to get Harlan's shirt unbuttoned far enough for him to pull it over his head, and when Harlan's bare-chested and straddling his lap Marcus thinks he might come just from that. But he's not some teenager…okay, technically he is, but he's old enough to control himself so he pushes down the urge to come and focuses on getting Harlan's pants open.
Later he won't know where he got the courage to undress Harlan without being coaxed into it, but then again, three years of fantasizing are a powerful motivator. Not that it matters, because as soon as he gets Harlan's zipper down the other man's sliding off him, pushing down pants and underwear and finally socks and once Harlan's naked in front of him Marcus has to remind himself to breathe. He's scrambling out of his own pants before he can stop himself, but Harlan just grins and helps him tug them down.
When they're both naked Harlan climbs over him again, holding himself just above Marcus without actually touching anything. He leans in for a chaste kiss, resisting Marcus' attempts to pull him down until they're pressed together. And maybe he's not a bully anymore, but he's a tease, and Marcus isn't sure which is worse. He's still trying to decide when Harlan finally stretches out on top of him, pushing Marcus' legs apart to settle between them.
Marcus groans against his mouth and thrusts up, one leg hooked around Harlan's waist to pull them closer together and Harlan's hand lands on his thigh to hold him there. His other hand slides through Marcus' hair, tilting his head just so until their mouths fit together like they were made for this. Marcus can taste traces of whiskey in Harlan's mouth, and he chases the flavor with his tongue until Harlan's moaning against him. And that must mean he's doing something right, so he slides his hands down Harlan's back to trace the curve of his spine.
The hand on his thigh slides lower, pushing under Marcus to cup his ass and he gasps when Harlan's finger brushes against his opening. "Anybody ever fucked you before?"
For a second Marcus doesn't know how to answer; he doesn't want to admit that he doesn't know what he's doing, but he has a feeling Harlan can tell already. He knows he's blushing, feels the flush all the way down his chest and when Harlan glances down Marcus knows he feels it too.
"Nobody? What do you do over at that college of yours?"
"Study, mostly," Marcus answers, blushing even hotter now and he doesn't look up to see Harlan laughing at him. He doesn't have to - he can hear it, and he wishes now that he had lied. But before he can tell Harlan this was a mistake Harlan's kissing him again, mouth hot against his collarbone. He works his way down Marcus' chest, stopping to tease each sensitive spot with his tongue until Marcus can't even remember what he was so embarrassed about a few minutes ago.
He's splayed in the center of the bed, legs spread wide and when Harlan's tongue dips into his navel he thrusts up convulsively. That earns him another laugh and then Harlan's moving again, avoiding Marcus' cock to press kisses along his inner thighs. And yeah, he's definitely a tease, but Marcus is way too far gone to complain. He's so into it that he doesn't think to be nervous when Harlan's hands slide under his thighs, pushing his knees up and toward his chest to open him even further.
It doesn't dawn on him what Harlan has in mind until he feels the first press of wet heat against his opening, Harlan's tongue pushing inside him and his eyes roll back at the sensation. He hears himself murmuring under his breath, things like 'fuck' and 'God' and 'Harlan', and it doesn't even matter that they all mean pretty much the same thing. They all translate to 'more' - maybe 'harder', too, because Harlan picks up speed until Marcus is moaning and shaking his head against the mattress.
And Harlan's definitely done this before, but Marcus doesn't want to know when or with who. It doesn't matter, because this shouldn't be happening in the first place and even if it's not a dream it's all going to be over tomorrow. The thought is way too disappointing for Marcus to contemplate, though, so he focuses on the tongue working him open and when a finger pushes inside him Marcus gasps and clenches hard around it.
It takes him a few seconds to relax, but when he does Harlan pulls his finger out and slides back in again. And it feels…weird, but better than he expected. He finds himself pushing down into it, moaning at the twin sensations of Harlan's finger and his tongue. Then Harlan's tongue is gone and he pushes a second finger inside, and Marcus feels like he's being stretched to his limit. He can't imagine Harlan's cock inside him, but the thought makes him even harder anyway and when Harlan's mouth finally - finally - closes around his cock he knows he's not going to last long.
He'd be embarrassed if it all didn't feel so good, but Harlan's doing things with his tongue that Marcus would never be able to imagine and when his fingers twist inside Marcus he gasps and comes. "Sorry," he says when Harlan pulls off him, because he knew he should have warned the other man but there was no time.
Harlan doesn't look all that bothered by it, though; in fact, he's smiling that smile again, running the back of his hand over his mouth and his fingers are still inside Marcus. He leans up to press their lips together, mouth open to let Marcus taste himself on Harlan's tongue. Marcus expects it to be gross, but it's mostly just really hot, and before he realizes what he's doing he's reaching between them to close his hand around Harlan's cock.
Harlan groans against his mouth and thrusts into his grip, cock already leaking against Marcus' stomach and it only takes a few quick strokes before Harlan's coming. Wet heat hits Marcus' fingers and his stomach, and he's not sure whether to be proud that he has that affect on Harlan or disappointed that it's over already. When Harlan's fingers slide out of him he settles on disappointed, but before he has too much time to think about it Harlan's pressing hot kisses against his neck and sliding a hand through the mess on his stomach.
"You're definitely staying here tonight," he murmurs against Marcus' skin, breath hot and sending a fresh shiver down Marcus' spine. He thinks about arguing just for the sake of it, but Harlan's warm and heavy against him and he figures that just this once, it won't kill him to let Harlan have his way.