Fic: That Surrender (Brotherhood II, Harlan/Marcus, R)
Title: That Surrender
Pairing: Harlan/Randall, Harlan/Marcus preslash
Rating: I'd say hard R, but that might be conservative
Summary: If you can't be with the one you love...
Author's note: This is set pre-movie, and it can be considered a prequel to my current series. Because I'm talented that way.
It started with a cigarette. Harlan's not even sure why he was looking, because it was fucking Ratner, and there's nothing about Marcus that's worth his time. Still, he remembers the day he first noticed Marcus - really noticed him - the way he rolled his cigarette between his lips and the way his tongue darted out of his mouth, dark pink and mesmerizing and Harlan found himself wondering how it would feel inside his mouth.
On his cock.
He laughed off the image that first time, but it stuck with him and now every time he sees Marcus he pictures it. Marcus on his knees, mouth stretched around Harlan's cock, fingers gripping his thighs and Harlan's hand in his hair to guide him. Eyes closed tight with concentration - better yet, eyes open, wide and focused and watching. He's pictured it so many times that the image is vivid, more like a memory than his imagination and there's a part of him that hates it. Because Marcus is a loser and he's Harlan Ratcliffe, and he shouldn't want a nobody like Ratner to want him.
That doesn't stop him from picturing it every time, hand sliding through dark hair before he can stop himself and the head moving between his legs pushes up against his grip. And maybe that's why it's so easy to picture, because they've got the same color hair and they're both pale. Marcus is skinnier, hair a little longer and eyes a little lighter, but Harlan's willing to bet they get darker when he's turned on.
He spreads his legs a little further, slides his free hand down his chest and imagines it's Marcus' hand. Pictures that too, and it's easy because he's spent a lot of time thinking about Marcus' hands. He's watched them when Marcus pushes his hair back off his forehead, when he lifts a cigarette to his mouth and takes a long drag, when he touches Slayton or Van Owen to get their attention.
He hates having a reason to be jealous of Van Owen, hates that Marcus touches those losers, that he wants their attention when he could have Harlan. And he could - that much Harlan's willing to admit - because he wants to fuck Marcus and he wouldn't turn down the chance to do it. He's thought about offering, about catching Marcus alone and pushing him up against the nearest flat surface and just…taking.
Sometimes he thinks Marcus would let him. Not that he'd have much choice, because Harlan's bigger and stronger and Marcus smokes too damn much. But that's not how he wants it; he wants Marcus to want him, wants him to smile as he sinks to his knees and he wants to push inside Marcus and hear him begging for more.
Other times he's pretty sure Marcus hates him, and he's pretty sure he hates Marcus just as much. He wants to wipe that nervous expression off Marcus' face - wants to push until Marcus breaks just to see how much he can take. Sometimes he thinks he'd rather kill Marcus than kiss him, but then he catches a glimpse of that mouth and more than anything he wants to know what it would feel like pressed against his. Opening under him, murmuring his name against Harlan's mouth and pushing up for more.
And he's watching Randall suck him off, but all he sees is Marcus. He thinks sometimes that's why he came on to Randall in the first place, because they're friends and Randall gives good head but Harlan isn't in love with him. He's not in love with Marcus either - he's not - but he wants Marcus in a way he's never wanted Randall. Randall who doesn't look like Marcus, but they're similar enough to make it easy to pretend.
"Fuck," he says when Randall's tongue flattens against the head of his cock. Then "harder," grunted through clenched teeth, fingers flexing against Randall's scalp and he's close - too close, so he shuts his eyes and pretends it's Marcus kneeling in front of him. It's easy, and when he comes it's Marcus swallowing around him and Marcus jerking himself off in quick, rough strokes. It's Marcus coming in his own grip, shirt still on and pants open and Harlan loves him like this.
Wants to see, wants to watch Marcus flushed and panting for breath so he opens his eyes, stomach twisting a little when he catches sight of Randall tucking himself back into his pants. "You better hurry up, Alex'll be back soon."
He's grinning that stupid grin, standing up and wiping absently at his mouth and Harlan ignores the hard lump of disappointment in his stomach and reaches for his pants. And it seems like there should be more, like he should do something or say something, but Randall's never been all that crazy about kissing and he can't think of anything to say. So he focuses on buttoning his shirt the right way and tucking it back into his pants, and by the time Alex lets himself into the room Harlan's digging in his pocket for his car keys.
He pretends not to notice the look Alex gives them, pasting a fake smile on his face and muttering something about seeing them tomorrow. And there are a few times he's felt like he's missing out on something by not living in the dorms, but tonight he's glad he's going home to his own room in his own house, where he doesn't have to worry about who can hear whatever name he might murmur when he's jerking off to the images that just won't go away.
~
I have, like, a ridiculous amount of comments to answer. And e-mails, and files to move and screencaps to make, etc. etc. until I want to fall over for thinking about it. I've actually been really busy all day so I'm not ignoring anybody, even if it seems that way. I've got the next three days off, though, so I'll catch up. I hope.
Pairing: Harlan/Randall, Harlan/Marcus preslash
Rating: I'd say hard R, but that might be conservative
Summary: If you can't be with the one you love...
Author's note: This is set pre-movie, and it can be considered a prequel to my current series. Because I'm talented that way.
It started with a cigarette. Harlan's not even sure why he was looking, because it was fucking Ratner, and there's nothing about Marcus that's worth his time. Still, he remembers the day he first noticed Marcus - really noticed him - the way he rolled his cigarette between his lips and the way his tongue darted out of his mouth, dark pink and mesmerizing and Harlan found himself wondering how it would feel inside his mouth.
On his cock.
He laughed off the image that first time, but it stuck with him and now every time he sees Marcus he pictures it. Marcus on his knees, mouth stretched around Harlan's cock, fingers gripping his thighs and Harlan's hand in his hair to guide him. Eyes closed tight with concentration - better yet, eyes open, wide and focused and watching. He's pictured it so many times that the image is vivid, more like a memory than his imagination and there's a part of him that hates it. Because Marcus is a loser and he's Harlan Ratcliffe, and he shouldn't want a nobody like Ratner to want him.
That doesn't stop him from picturing it every time, hand sliding through dark hair before he can stop himself and the head moving between his legs pushes up against his grip. And maybe that's why it's so easy to picture, because they've got the same color hair and they're both pale. Marcus is skinnier, hair a little longer and eyes a little lighter, but Harlan's willing to bet they get darker when he's turned on.
He spreads his legs a little further, slides his free hand down his chest and imagines it's Marcus' hand. Pictures that too, and it's easy because he's spent a lot of time thinking about Marcus' hands. He's watched them when Marcus pushes his hair back off his forehead, when he lifts a cigarette to his mouth and takes a long drag, when he touches Slayton or Van Owen to get their attention.
He hates having a reason to be jealous of Van Owen, hates that Marcus touches those losers, that he wants their attention when he could have Harlan. And he could - that much Harlan's willing to admit - because he wants to fuck Marcus and he wouldn't turn down the chance to do it. He's thought about offering, about catching Marcus alone and pushing him up against the nearest flat surface and just…taking.
Sometimes he thinks Marcus would let him. Not that he'd have much choice, because Harlan's bigger and stronger and Marcus smokes too damn much. But that's not how he wants it; he wants Marcus to want him, wants him to smile as he sinks to his knees and he wants to push inside Marcus and hear him begging for more.
Other times he's pretty sure Marcus hates him, and he's pretty sure he hates Marcus just as much. He wants to wipe that nervous expression off Marcus' face - wants to push until Marcus breaks just to see how much he can take. Sometimes he thinks he'd rather kill Marcus than kiss him, but then he catches a glimpse of that mouth and more than anything he wants to know what it would feel like pressed against his. Opening under him, murmuring his name against Harlan's mouth and pushing up for more.
And he's watching Randall suck him off, but all he sees is Marcus. He thinks sometimes that's why he came on to Randall in the first place, because they're friends and Randall gives good head but Harlan isn't in love with him. He's not in love with Marcus either - he's not - but he wants Marcus in a way he's never wanted Randall. Randall who doesn't look like Marcus, but they're similar enough to make it easy to pretend.
"Fuck," he says when Randall's tongue flattens against the head of his cock. Then "harder," grunted through clenched teeth, fingers flexing against Randall's scalp and he's close - too close, so he shuts his eyes and pretends it's Marcus kneeling in front of him. It's easy, and when he comes it's Marcus swallowing around him and Marcus jerking himself off in quick, rough strokes. It's Marcus coming in his own grip, shirt still on and pants open and Harlan loves him like this.
Wants to see, wants to watch Marcus flushed and panting for breath so he opens his eyes, stomach twisting a little when he catches sight of Randall tucking himself back into his pants. "You better hurry up, Alex'll be back soon."
He's grinning that stupid grin, standing up and wiping absently at his mouth and Harlan ignores the hard lump of disappointment in his stomach and reaches for his pants. And it seems like there should be more, like he should do something or say something, but Randall's never been all that crazy about kissing and he can't think of anything to say. So he focuses on buttoning his shirt the right way and tucking it back into his pants, and by the time Alex lets himself into the room Harlan's digging in his pocket for his car keys.
He pretends not to notice the look Alex gives them, pasting a fake smile on his face and muttering something about seeing them tomorrow. And there are a few times he's felt like he's missing out on something by not living in the dorms, but tonight he's glad he's going home to his own room in his own house, where he doesn't have to worry about who can hear whatever name he might murmur when he's jerking off to the images that just won't go away.
~
I have, like, a ridiculous amount of comments to answer. And e-mails, and files to move and screencaps to make, etc. etc. until I want to fall over for thinking about it. I've actually been really busy all day so I'm not ignoring anybody, even if it seems that way. I've got the next three days off, though, so I'll catch up. I hope.