Fic: Forecast (Brotherhood II, Harlan/Marcus, NC17)
Title: Forecast
Fandom: Brotherhood II
Pairing: Harlan/Marcus
Rating: NC17
Summary: He's still not sure what they're doing, but he doesn't want it to end.
Author's note: You know, originally this series was going to be roughly twenty-two parts and span about ten years. Currently we're on part fifteen and we've spanned about a month and a half. The moral of the story? This series will never end.
He doesn't want to meet Harlan's parents. He doesn't want to have to do that polite thing that all parents expect from teenagers, and he doesn't want to stand there while they compare him to Randall and Alex. But mostly he doesn't want to be introduced as Harlan's 'friend', as the new lackey who follows Harlan around because he's rich and popular and has a nice car.
Because that's not why he's here - and okay, maybe that was part of it in the beginning, but that was before Luc and Alex and it was long before he knew Harlan wanted him back. He doesn't care about that stuff anymore, doesn't even think about it because Harlan's just…Harlan, and he wants Marcus and that's all that matters.
So he doesn't want to meet Harlan's parents, but he wants to spend the weekend with Harlan more than he wants to avoid any awkward introductions, so he finds himself in Harlan's car on Friday afternoon. Tosses his bag in the back seat and slides onto warm leather, stomach fluttering just a little at the idea of people seeing him getting into Harlan's car. Not that there are many people around to see them, because Harlan insisted on going running after classes and most of the school's back in the dorms getting ready for dinner.
Still, though, he likes the idea of people seeing him, of knowing that Harlan doesn't care if they do. And it bothers him that Matt hasn't spoken to him in days, but it's easier to ignore when he's with Harlan. When Harlan's shifting into gear, pulling out of the parking lot and onto the road before he reaches over and slides a hand up Marcus' thigh. He shifts into the touch, legs parted as wide as they'll go and this is a bad idea, because he's about to meet Harlan's parents.
"Relax, Marcus," Harlan says, like he can read Marcus' mind. Like he knows just how much Marcus is dreading having to meet his parents - his father - and the hand on Marcus' thigh squeezes reassuringly. "You're always so tense."
"I'm not tense," Marcus lies, scowling when Harlan laughs at him. "I'm not. It's just that parents don't really like me."
"Why the hell not?"
"I have a record, for one thing," Marcus answers, smirking when Harlan raises one eyebrow.
"You? For what, jaywalking?"
"Vandalism. Some friends and I redecorated a few buildings in our neighborhood. That's why my parents sent me to Chandler - it was that or juvie, and they didn't want to have to tell their friends their kid was a felon."
"Why'd you do it?"
Marcus shrugs and leans back in his seat, trying not to think about all the other things he's done that are a lot worse than spray painting a few buildings. "Seemed like a good idea at the time."
They're pulling into Harlan's driveway before Harlan comes up with an answer, the conversation forgotten as he stops in front of the house and shuts off the engine. And this is the part where he usually reaches for Marcus, drags him close for a kiss before they get out of the car. But his parents are in there, maybe even looking out to see who pulled up and Marcus tenses all over again as he pushes the door open and climbs out.
He reaches for his bag, and even that makes him feel weird because it's not like crashing at a friend's house. Harlan's…he's a lot of things, but they're definitely not friends. Not like he and Matt were friends, but that didn't get him very far so maybe Marcus is better off this way. At least he knows where he stands with Harlan - at least he thinks he does.
The house is quiet when they walk in; Marcus isn't sure what he was expecting, but complete silence wasn't it. For a second he lets himself hope that maybe Harlan's parents aren't home, that maybe they decided to go away for the weekend at the last minute. He follows Harlan up the stairs, but instead of heading for his own room Harlan turns left and stops in front of an open door.
"Mom," Harlan calls, and Marcus' stomach drops out from under him at the sound. "This is Marcus, he's gonna crash here this weekend."
As he speaks Harlan reaches for Marcus' arm, dragging him into the doorway until Marcus finds himself staring back at a woman who could only be Harlan's mother. She's tall and blond, dressed pretty much the way Marcus expected and she's got one ear pressed to a cordless phone. She waves distractedly in their direction, smiling briefly without really looking at Marcus and covering the receiver with one hand.
"Honey, I'm on the phone."
"What else is new," Harlan mutters, rolling his eyes and pushing Marcus ahead of him toward his bedroom. He doesn't really sound like he minds, though, and by the time he pushes Marcus into his room and closes the door he seems to have forgotten all about his mother.
And that's...it. It should be a relief, but it feels more like a let-down. Marcus still doesn't know what he was expecting, but a quick glance and a brush-off definitely isn't it. And he wants to ask where Harlan's father is, but before he manages to get the words out Harlan's kissing him, tongue pushing past his lips and Marcus grips the front of his jacket hard and pulls him even closer.
"I've been waiting to do that all day," Harlan says when he pulls back, breath warming Marcus' cheek and his hands pushing up under Marcus' jacket.
He wishes he could be more like Harlan, that he could just say whatever he felt without worrying about how it was going to sound. He wishes he could just not care about what people thought of him, but he's not Harlan and there's no way he can do this with Harlan's mother right down the hall. "What are you doing?"
"What's it look like, Marcus?" Harlan asks, grinning as he pushes Marcus' jacket off his shoulders. "I told you, I want you where I don't have to worry about who's going to walk in."
"But your mother…"
"She'll be on the phone for hours. And even if she wasn't, she wouldn't come in here. They've got this thing about respecting my privacy or some shit like that. Relax," Harlan adds, murmuring the word close to his ear and when his lips brush Marcus' skin he can't hold back a shudder.
And there's no way he can relax, but he leans into Harlan anyway, letting his jacket slide off his arms to land on the floor. His tie's next, Harlan's fingers sliding under fabric and pushing open buttons until his shirt hits the floor too. Part of him thinks they should stop, because his own parents don't think anything of walking into his room when he's home.
But Harlan seems pretty sure his mother won't bother them, and Marcus knows this isn't the first time Harlan's done this in his room. He tries not to think about Harlan and Randall, though, so he closes his eyes against the mental image and focuses all his energy on keeping as quiet as possible.
By the time they reach the bed his clothes are gone, and he doesn't remember doing it but somehow he's gotten Harlan's shirt open. He reaches up and catches Harlan's tie, pulling him forward to press their lips together. Harlan settles on top of him, uniform pants scratching at his legs and Marcus wraps a leg around Harlan's waist to pull him even closer. He rocks up against the body pressing against him, groaning into Harlan's mouth and pushing a hand between them to slide Harlan's zipper down.
He can't believe he's doing this; he keeps expecting to hear the door open, but even the thought of getting caught doesn't stop him. All it does is make him rock even harder against Harlan, an urgent hand working inside his pants to pull his cock out. His tongue thrusts in and out of Harlan's mouth, chest heaving already with the effort to breathe and Harlan's thrusting just as urgently into his grip. Faster and faster, low noises escaping his throat like he's been thinking about exactly this all day.
And maybe he has; it's all Marcus has been thinking about, at least when he wasn't worrying about what Harlan's parents are going to think of him. But he's not thinking about that right now, not when Harlan's lifting up to kick his pants off, shirt still hanging open and his tie still knotted around his neck. When his pants are off he kneels between Marcus' legs, pushing his knees up and apart and he looks like a pornographic Calvin Klein ad.
It's hot in a way Marcus never expected, the sight of Harlan in just a shirt and tie and a pair of athletic socks making him want things he can't even name. He wants hot, breathless kisses, wants the taste of Harlan on his tongue and he wants to see that fierce look in Harlan's eyes just before he comes. He wants to wake up next to Harlan every day, not just on the weekends when Harlan feels like having him around. Only this is two in a row, and maybe that counts for something.
He reaches for Harlan's tie again, dragging him forward until they're barely an inch apart and just…breathing, Harlan's features weirdly distorted from this close up and when two fingers slide inside him Marcus can't hold back a groan. The noise makes him tense, but as soon as he does Harlan's mouth is pressed against his jaw, feathering soft kisses along his skin and he's pretty sure he hears Harlan murmuring 'relax' over and over.
"What if…" is as far as he gets before Harlan's mouth is pressed against his, swallowing the slightly panicked question with a kiss.
"Quit worrying, Marcus," Harlan says when he pulls back, twisting his fingers just so and it's hard to worry when Harlan hits that spot inside him. He gasps at the sensation, eyes fluttering closed again and he feels more than hears Harlan's soft laugh. "That's more like it."
He wants to say something witty like 'glad to be of service', but it's hard to talk when Harlan's doing that thing that reduces his entire brain to a puddle of electrically charged goo. Harlan's watching him, propped up on one elbow and just looking and when Marcus arches up in search of some friction Harlan moves a little further away. His fingers disappear too, and that's hardly fair but before Marcus finds his voice to complain Harlan's hand is on his hip, pushing him onto his side and sliding under his leg to lift his top knee up toward his chest.
And this is new, Harlan still stretched out on his side behind Marcus and angling his hips sort of awkwardly until he can push inside just a little. Slow, shallow thrusts that leave Marcus panting, straining back for more but the angle's not right. It's hot and frustrating at the same time, Harlan's hand holding him open and his mouth moving against the back of Marcus' neck, head resting on his free hand like they've got all the time in the world.
They don't, but they've got the weekend, and that's a lot of time. Especially if Harlan's right about his parents leaving them alone, but Marcus still isn't thinking about that, so instead he focuses on shifting just enough to get Harlan deeper inside without letting him slide all the way out. It's tricky, but he manages just a little more, another half inch maybe and it's enough to drag a groan out of Harlan.
The sound vibrates against his neck, straight down his spine and he reaches for his own cock as Harlan starts moving just a little faster. His free hand is clenched hard around the sheet above his head, fingers flexing against dark blue cotton and when Harlan's free hand closes around his, his heart skips a beat. Because they fuck and they spend a lot of time kissing and they've even been known to have a conversation or two, but they don't hold hands. And Marcus isn't sure this counts, because Harlan's still thrusting almost lazily and maybe he just doesn't realize what he's doing, but their fingers are threaded together and Marcus wants it to count.
He's not even sure why, because holding hands is one of those pussy things that Jon and Mary probably used to do, but it's kind of…nice. A connection, and maybe it's not even the first time, but it's the first time he's really thought about it. There are a thousand questions on the tip of his tongue, and he knows if he's not careful he's going to blurt them all out at exactly the wrong time. He turns his head just a little, just enough to try to catch a glimpse of Harlan's face, but all he can see is a blur of dirty blond hair and golden skin and then Harlan's sliding out of him and Marcus bites his lip against the loss.
A second later he's flat on his back again, knees pushed up toward his chest and Harlan's sliding back inside, expression intense and he leans forward to kiss Marcus. Slow, like he's taking his time on purpose, torturing Marcus because there's still the thought lingering in the back of his head that the door could open any time. He wraps his legs around Harlan's waist anyway, pulling him forward sharply and they both gasp at the sudden stretch.
Then Harlan's grinning at him, murmuring 'Jesus, Marcus' and thrusting again, harder this time as he reaches up to catch one of Marcus' hands and wrap it around Marcus' cock. And he knows what Harlan wants; he wants to watch, to see Marcus getting himself off while Harlan fucks him. It still makes him a little self-conscious to know Harlan's watching, but he does it anyway, because Harlan wants to watch him.
Like that makes any sense.
He's murmuring…something, words tumbling out of his mouth but he can't make any sense of them. He hopes Harlan can't understand them either, because he doesn't trust himself not to say something he can't take back, but he can't stop himself from talking. He's not even sure he wants to, because Harlan's groaning and thrusting harder, gaze still glued to Marcus' hand moving on his cock and that's all it takes to push Marcus over the edge.
He comes with a low moan, arching against Harlan and clenching hard and he's shaking so hard he can't even hold his legs up. Harlan's hand slides under his knee, pushing up and stretching him open and it's almost painful, but then he's thrusting again and Marcus lets out a grunt with each stroke. There's come cooling on his stomach and chest, a slick hand still stroking his softening cock and when Harlan tenses and comes Marcus wishes they could just stay like this forever.
Tangled together in the wreck of Harlan's bed, Harlan still buried inside him and panting against his neck. Because he doesn't have to think when they're like this, doesn't have to worry about secrets or parents or friends who don't approve of what they're doing. He doesn't have to worry about Harlan getting sick of him, not when his mouth's moving restlessly against Marcus' neck. And even when Harlan finally slips out of him he wants to keep going, so he slides a hand into blond hair and tugs Harlan up until he can press their lips together.
Harlan's tie tickles his chest, one of his shirt buttons digging into Marcus' side and it's not that comfortable, but he doesn't want to move. He doesn't even want to breathe, because the second he does Harlan might climb off him and start pulling himself together, and then Marcus has to go back to thinking about all those stupid little doubts that never quite go away. But Harlan's heavy, and it doesn't take long for Marcus to start feeling like he's suffocating.
"I can't breathe," he murmurs against Harlan's mouth, and when Harlan laughs Marcus can't help grinning.
"I need a shower," Harlan says, sliding off Marcus and then off the bed and this is the moment Marcus was dreading. He watches as Harlan tugs his tie off and lets his shirt fall carelessly to the floor, watches his shoulders flex as Harlan bends down to pull his socks off. He half expects Harlan to disappear into the bathroom without a second thought, but when he's finally naked Harlan turns to glance at him. "You coming or what?"
Marcus nods a little too eagerly and scrambles off the bed, following Harlan into the bathroom and when strong arms slide around his waist he thinks maybe reality isn't so bad after all.
Fandom: Brotherhood II
Pairing: Harlan/Marcus
Rating: NC17
Summary: He's still not sure what they're doing, but he doesn't want it to end.
Author's note: You know, originally this series was going to be roughly twenty-two parts and span about ten years. Currently we're on part fifteen and we've spanned about a month and a half. The moral of the story? This series will never end.
He doesn't want to meet Harlan's parents. He doesn't want to have to do that polite thing that all parents expect from teenagers, and he doesn't want to stand there while they compare him to Randall and Alex. But mostly he doesn't want to be introduced as Harlan's 'friend', as the new lackey who follows Harlan around because he's rich and popular and has a nice car.
Because that's not why he's here - and okay, maybe that was part of it in the beginning, but that was before Luc and Alex and it was long before he knew Harlan wanted him back. He doesn't care about that stuff anymore, doesn't even think about it because Harlan's just…Harlan, and he wants Marcus and that's all that matters.
So he doesn't want to meet Harlan's parents, but he wants to spend the weekend with Harlan more than he wants to avoid any awkward introductions, so he finds himself in Harlan's car on Friday afternoon. Tosses his bag in the back seat and slides onto warm leather, stomach fluttering just a little at the idea of people seeing him getting into Harlan's car. Not that there are many people around to see them, because Harlan insisted on going running after classes and most of the school's back in the dorms getting ready for dinner.
Still, though, he likes the idea of people seeing him, of knowing that Harlan doesn't care if they do. And it bothers him that Matt hasn't spoken to him in days, but it's easier to ignore when he's with Harlan. When Harlan's shifting into gear, pulling out of the parking lot and onto the road before he reaches over and slides a hand up Marcus' thigh. He shifts into the touch, legs parted as wide as they'll go and this is a bad idea, because he's about to meet Harlan's parents.
"Relax, Marcus," Harlan says, like he can read Marcus' mind. Like he knows just how much Marcus is dreading having to meet his parents - his father - and the hand on Marcus' thigh squeezes reassuringly. "You're always so tense."
"I'm not tense," Marcus lies, scowling when Harlan laughs at him. "I'm not. It's just that parents don't really like me."
"Why the hell not?"
"I have a record, for one thing," Marcus answers, smirking when Harlan raises one eyebrow.
"You? For what, jaywalking?"
"Vandalism. Some friends and I redecorated a few buildings in our neighborhood. That's why my parents sent me to Chandler - it was that or juvie, and they didn't want to have to tell their friends their kid was a felon."
"Why'd you do it?"
Marcus shrugs and leans back in his seat, trying not to think about all the other things he's done that are a lot worse than spray painting a few buildings. "Seemed like a good idea at the time."
They're pulling into Harlan's driveway before Harlan comes up with an answer, the conversation forgotten as he stops in front of the house and shuts off the engine. And this is the part where he usually reaches for Marcus, drags him close for a kiss before they get out of the car. But his parents are in there, maybe even looking out to see who pulled up and Marcus tenses all over again as he pushes the door open and climbs out.
He reaches for his bag, and even that makes him feel weird because it's not like crashing at a friend's house. Harlan's…he's a lot of things, but they're definitely not friends. Not like he and Matt were friends, but that didn't get him very far so maybe Marcus is better off this way. At least he knows where he stands with Harlan - at least he thinks he does.
The house is quiet when they walk in; Marcus isn't sure what he was expecting, but complete silence wasn't it. For a second he lets himself hope that maybe Harlan's parents aren't home, that maybe they decided to go away for the weekend at the last minute. He follows Harlan up the stairs, but instead of heading for his own room Harlan turns left and stops in front of an open door.
"Mom," Harlan calls, and Marcus' stomach drops out from under him at the sound. "This is Marcus, he's gonna crash here this weekend."
As he speaks Harlan reaches for Marcus' arm, dragging him into the doorway until Marcus finds himself staring back at a woman who could only be Harlan's mother. She's tall and blond, dressed pretty much the way Marcus expected and she's got one ear pressed to a cordless phone. She waves distractedly in their direction, smiling briefly without really looking at Marcus and covering the receiver with one hand.
"Honey, I'm on the phone."
"What else is new," Harlan mutters, rolling his eyes and pushing Marcus ahead of him toward his bedroom. He doesn't really sound like he minds, though, and by the time he pushes Marcus into his room and closes the door he seems to have forgotten all about his mother.
And that's...it. It should be a relief, but it feels more like a let-down. Marcus still doesn't know what he was expecting, but a quick glance and a brush-off definitely isn't it. And he wants to ask where Harlan's father is, but before he manages to get the words out Harlan's kissing him, tongue pushing past his lips and Marcus grips the front of his jacket hard and pulls him even closer.
"I've been waiting to do that all day," Harlan says when he pulls back, breath warming Marcus' cheek and his hands pushing up under Marcus' jacket.
He wishes he could be more like Harlan, that he could just say whatever he felt without worrying about how it was going to sound. He wishes he could just not care about what people thought of him, but he's not Harlan and there's no way he can do this with Harlan's mother right down the hall. "What are you doing?"
"What's it look like, Marcus?" Harlan asks, grinning as he pushes Marcus' jacket off his shoulders. "I told you, I want you where I don't have to worry about who's going to walk in."
"But your mother…"
"She'll be on the phone for hours. And even if she wasn't, she wouldn't come in here. They've got this thing about respecting my privacy or some shit like that. Relax," Harlan adds, murmuring the word close to his ear and when his lips brush Marcus' skin he can't hold back a shudder.
And there's no way he can relax, but he leans into Harlan anyway, letting his jacket slide off his arms to land on the floor. His tie's next, Harlan's fingers sliding under fabric and pushing open buttons until his shirt hits the floor too. Part of him thinks they should stop, because his own parents don't think anything of walking into his room when he's home.
But Harlan seems pretty sure his mother won't bother them, and Marcus knows this isn't the first time Harlan's done this in his room. He tries not to think about Harlan and Randall, though, so he closes his eyes against the mental image and focuses all his energy on keeping as quiet as possible.
By the time they reach the bed his clothes are gone, and he doesn't remember doing it but somehow he's gotten Harlan's shirt open. He reaches up and catches Harlan's tie, pulling him forward to press their lips together. Harlan settles on top of him, uniform pants scratching at his legs and Marcus wraps a leg around Harlan's waist to pull him even closer. He rocks up against the body pressing against him, groaning into Harlan's mouth and pushing a hand between them to slide Harlan's zipper down.
He can't believe he's doing this; he keeps expecting to hear the door open, but even the thought of getting caught doesn't stop him. All it does is make him rock even harder against Harlan, an urgent hand working inside his pants to pull his cock out. His tongue thrusts in and out of Harlan's mouth, chest heaving already with the effort to breathe and Harlan's thrusting just as urgently into his grip. Faster and faster, low noises escaping his throat like he's been thinking about exactly this all day.
And maybe he has; it's all Marcus has been thinking about, at least when he wasn't worrying about what Harlan's parents are going to think of him. But he's not thinking about that right now, not when Harlan's lifting up to kick his pants off, shirt still hanging open and his tie still knotted around his neck. When his pants are off he kneels between Marcus' legs, pushing his knees up and apart and he looks like a pornographic Calvin Klein ad.
It's hot in a way Marcus never expected, the sight of Harlan in just a shirt and tie and a pair of athletic socks making him want things he can't even name. He wants hot, breathless kisses, wants the taste of Harlan on his tongue and he wants to see that fierce look in Harlan's eyes just before he comes. He wants to wake up next to Harlan every day, not just on the weekends when Harlan feels like having him around. Only this is two in a row, and maybe that counts for something.
He reaches for Harlan's tie again, dragging him forward until they're barely an inch apart and just…breathing, Harlan's features weirdly distorted from this close up and when two fingers slide inside him Marcus can't hold back a groan. The noise makes him tense, but as soon as he does Harlan's mouth is pressed against his jaw, feathering soft kisses along his skin and he's pretty sure he hears Harlan murmuring 'relax' over and over.
"What if…" is as far as he gets before Harlan's mouth is pressed against his, swallowing the slightly panicked question with a kiss.
"Quit worrying, Marcus," Harlan says when he pulls back, twisting his fingers just so and it's hard to worry when Harlan hits that spot inside him. He gasps at the sensation, eyes fluttering closed again and he feels more than hears Harlan's soft laugh. "That's more like it."
He wants to say something witty like 'glad to be of service', but it's hard to talk when Harlan's doing that thing that reduces his entire brain to a puddle of electrically charged goo. Harlan's watching him, propped up on one elbow and just looking and when Marcus arches up in search of some friction Harlan moves a little further away. His fingers disappear too, and that's hardly fair but before Marcus finds his voice to complain Harlan's hand is on his hip, pushing him onto his side and sliding under his leg to lift his top knee up toward his chest.
And this is new, Harlan still stretched out on his side behind Marcus and angling his hips sort of awkwardly until he can push inside just a little. Slow, shallow thrusts that leave Marcus panting, straining back for more but the angle's not right. It's hot and frustrating at the same time, Harlan's hand holding him open and his mouth moving against the back of Marcus' neck, head resting on his free hand like they've got all the time in the world.
They don't, but they've got the weekend, and that's a lot of time. Especially if Harlan's right about his parents leaving them alone, but Marcus still isn't thinking about that, so instead he focuses on shifting just enough to get Harlan deeper inside without letting him slide all the way out. It's tricky, but he manages just a little more, another half inch maybe and it's enough to drag a groan out of Harlan.
The sound vibrates against his neck, straight down his spine and he reaches for his own cock as Harlan starts moving just a little faster. His free hand is clenched hard around the sheet above his head, fingers flexing against dark blue cotton and when Harlan's free hand closes around his, his heart skips a beat. Because they fuck and they spend a lot of time kissing and they've even been known to have a conversation or two, but they don't hold hands. And Marcus isn't sure this counts, because Harlan's still thrusting almost lazily and maybe he just doesn't realize what he's doing, but their fingers are threaded together and Marcus wants it to count.
He's not even sure why, because holding hands is one of those pussy things that Jon and Mary probably used to do, but it's kind of…nice. A connection, and maybe it's not even the first time, but it's the first time he's really thought about it. There are a thousand questions on the tip of his tongue, and he knows if he's not careful he's going to blurt them all out at exactly the wrong time. He turns his head just a little, just enough to try to catch a glimpse of Harlan's face, but all he can see is a blur of dirty blond hair and golden skin and then Harlan's sliding out of him and Marcus bites his lip against the loss.
A second later he's flat on his back again, knees pushed up toward his chest and Harlan's sliding back inside, expression intense and he leans forward to kiss Marcus. Slow, like he's taking his time on purpose, torturing Marcus because there's still the thought lingering in the back of his head that the door could open any time. He wraps his legs around Harlan's waist anyway, pulling him forward sharply and they both gasp at the sudden stretch.
Then Harlan's grinning at him, murmuring 'Jesus, Marcus' and thrusting again, harder this time as he reaches up to catch one of Marcus' hands and wrap it around Marcus' cock. And he knows what Harlan wants; he wants to watch, to see Marcus getting himself off while Harlan fucks him. It still makes him a little self-conscious to know Harlan's watching, but he does it anyway, because Harlan wants to watch him.
Like that makes any sense.
He's murmuring…something, words tumbling out of his mouth but he can't make any sense of them. He hopes Harlan can't understand them either, because he doesn't trust himself not to say something he can't take back, but he can't stop himself from talking. He's not even sure he wants to, because Harlan's groaning and thrusting harder, gaze still glued to Marcus' hand moving on his cock and that's all it takes to push Marcus over the edge.
He comes with a low moan, arching against Harlan and clenching hard and he's shaking so hard he can't even hold his legs up. Harlan's hand slides under his knee, pushing up and stretching him open and it's almost painful, but then he's thrusting again and Marcus lets out a grunt with each stroke. There's come cooling on his stomach and chest, a slick hand still stroking his softening cock and when Harlan tenses and comes Marcus wishes they could just stay like this forever.
Tangled together in the wreck of Harlan's bed, Harlan still buried inside him and panting against his neck. Because he doesn't have to think when they're like this, doesn't have to worry about secrets or parents or friends who don't approve of what they're doing. He doesn't have to worry about Harlan getting sick of him, not when his mouth's moving restlessly against Marcus' neck. And even when Harlan finally slips out of him he wants to keep going, so he slides a hand into blond hair and tugs Harlan up until he can press their lips together.
Harlan's tie tickles his chest, one of his shirt buttons digging into Marcus' side and it's not that comfortable, but he doesn't want to move. He doesn't even want to breathe, because the second he does Harlan might climb off him and start pulling himself together, and then Marcus has to go back to thinking about all those stupid little doubts that never quite go away. But Harlan's heavy, and it doesn't take long for Marcus to start feeling like he's suffocating.
"I can't breathe," he murmurs against Harlan's mouth, and when Harlan laughs Marcus can't help grinning.
"I need a shower," Harlan says, sliding off Marcus and then off the bed and this is the moment Marcus was dreading. He watches as Harlan tugs his tie off and lets his shirt fall carelessly to the floor, watches his shoulders flex as Harlan bends down to pull his socks off. He half expects Harlan to disappear into the bathroom without a second thought, but when he's finally naked Harlan turns to glance at him. "You coming or what?"
Marcus nods a little too eagerly and scrambles off the bed, following Harlan into the bathroom and when strong arms slide around his waist he thinks maybe reality isn't so bad after all.