Fic: Chatoyant (Brotherhood II, Harlan/Marcus, NC17)
Since I've managed quite a bit of homework today, I gave myself a couple hours off to write fic. This was supposed to be Lost fic, but someone who shall remain nameless didn't feel like cooperating. Besides, I promised the fic I did write to foggynite like two weeks ago, and I've been putting it off for far too long now. I don't think she has time to read it anyway, but hey, at least I finally got around to it. One more small triumph against The Series That Will Not End.
Title: Chatoyant
Fandom: Brotherhood II
Pairing: Harlan/Marcus
Rating: NC17
Summary: Marcus doesn't dance.
Author's note: This took forever and didn't turn out the way I planned, but it accomplishes what I need it to at this point in the series, which, if we're being honest, is not that much, because they're still doing the 'no talking, lots of sex' thing. I do have a plan. And an outline, even. Honest.
Marcus doesn't dance. Not that he's ever tried, but he's pretty sure he wouldn't be any good at it. He doesn't dance and he doesn't hang out at clubs, so he's not really sure what he's doing here. Aside from the fact that Harlan wanted to go out, and it wasn't like Marcus could really say no. It's Harlan's house, after all, his car and his rules and Marcus is just along for the ride.
He's never been in a place like this, dark and heavy and it feels like the whole room's moving in time to the music. There are people everywhere, pressed together on the dance floor and pushing in on each other at the bar, sitting at tables and standing in dark corners, prowling the room looking for something Marcus is pretty sure he doesn't want to know about.
It makes him wonder why Harlan wanted to come here, because they're not dancing and they're not trying to pick anyone up. Not that Harlan hasn't asked him to dance, hands all over Marcus and his breath hot against Marcus' neck when he whispered come on and ground their hips together. All it did was make Marcus hard, but just for a second he wished he did know how to dance, because he's pretty sure it would be worth it just to watch Harlan move.
He watches Harlan walking toward him, a fresh beer in each hand and his smile fades to a frown as he glances over Marcus' shoulder. Automatically Marcus follows his gaze, his stomach doing a weird little flutter when he recognizes the guy walking past him. The same guy who's walked past him three times already, staring in that blatant way that tells Marcus he doesn't care if he gets caught. Wants to get caught, maybe, and Marcus isn't really sure what it means.
The guy's still staring when Harlan reaches him, arm sliding around Marcus to press a beer into his hand and his mouth against Marcus' neck. The kiss is soft, lingering and public in a way Marcus wasn't really expecting, and he's glad it's dark in the club so Harlan won't see him blushing. Because there have been a lot of public kisses tonight, on his neck and his mouth and even his fingers that one time, but Marcus still isn't used to it. Has a feeling he won't get used to it before it's time to go, because they've never done this in front of anybody else and it's making the whole thing feel a lot more real than he expected.
It's terrifying, but it's kind of cool too and he catches himself arching his neck to give Harlan better access. He's sucking hard on Marcus' skin, one hand still holding his beer and the other resting on Marcus' waist, his whole body focused on leaving a mark where the whole world will see it. By the time he lets up Marcus is shaking, hard and needy and all he really wants to do is get the hell out of here.
"Jesus," he hears himself murmur, voice trembling as he leans into the solid heat of Harlan's body. And it's warm in the club, the air stifling and thick but he doesn't want to pull away, because Harlan's hand is still resting on his waist and Marcus isn't sure he can stand on his own for much longer. "Can we get the hell out of here already?"
"No way," Harlan answers, amusement and something else in his voice, and he pulls back far enough to look at Marcus. "Not until you dance with me."
"I already told you, I don't dance."
"Yeah, Marcus, I know what you said." Harlan grins, lifting his beer and Marcus' cock twitches at the sight of his mouth stretched around the glass. Pictures Harlan on his knees, right here in front of everyone. Or in the bathroom, his back pressed against a dirty stall door and Harlan pressed up against him, cocks grinding together and sweat pooling between his shoulder blades.
If they were at Harlan's house already he could have all that, and it wouldn't have to be in some disgusting bathroom. They could be in Harlan's bed already, sheets tangled around them and Harlan pushing inside him and there's no way he's going to make it through the rest of his night if he doesn't stop thinking about this. He doesn't want to think at all, but then, that's always been his problem.
"So what, you trying to get me drunk enough to forget that I don't know how to dance?"
Another smile, close up this time and it takes everything in Marcus not to lean forward and kiss Harlan. "No. Just drunk enough not to care."
Harlan does kiss him then, long and slow and he tastes like beer. He's tugging at Marcus' waist, inching them toward the dance floor and there's a part of Marcus that wants to follow. Just to get it over with, to give Harlan what he wants so they can get the hell out of here. But he knows as soon as he gets out there he'll regret it, when he's standing in the middle of the crowd and they're all moving around him.
"I mean it," he murmurs against Harlan's mouth, although he knows it's not going to do any good. Harlan's the most stubborn guy he knows; he's used to getting his way, and he doesn't like taking no for an answer.
Harlan laughs again, warm against his skin and he's pretty sure he should be insulted. But mostly he just wants Harlan to stop messing around, so he pushes a hand past the waistband of Harlan's jeans, fingers grazing bare skin and when Harlan tenses against him Marcus knows he's starting to lose his resolve.
"Let's go," he whispers, and he's not even sure if he's trying to convince Harlan to leave or if he just wants Harlan to shove him up against the nearest wall. His fingers dip a little lower, denim digging into his fingers and Harlan makes a noise low in his throat and reaches for Marcus' hand.
"Not yet." He takes a step backwards, reaching for Marcus' still untouched beer and setting both their bottles down on the nearest flat surface before he turns back to Marcus. "Come on."
"No."
"Okay, but you're disappointing your fan club." Harlan glances to the right, and before he can stop himself Marcus is following his gaze. The same guy's watching them, one shoulder pressed against the wall and Marcus has to suppress a shudder.
"How do you know he's not looking at you?"
"Give me a break, Marcus, he's been cruising you all night," Harlan answers, glancing at the guy again and now he looks almost pissed. "What the fuck are you looking at?"
They're too far away for the guy to hear him, but he's pretty sure Harlan wouldn't care if he did. He definitely wouldn't back down from a fight, and the last thing they need is for somebody to call the cops. He can just picture his parents' reactions to that phone call; not only would they kick him out of school, but he'd probably never see the outside world again. He definitely wouldn't see Harlan again, and that's not a risk he's willing to take.
"Just forget it," Marcus says, hand on Harlan's arm to tug him in what he hopes is the direction of the door. "I mean it, Harlan. Let's just get out of here."
Harlan finally looks at him, expression unreadable and for a second Marcus thinks he's going to refuse again. Then he leans forward, mouth pressed hard against Marcus' and all Marcus can do is kiss him back. He can feel the tension in Harlan's body, feels his cock digging into Marcus' thigh and when they finally come up for air Harlan nods once. "Yeah, okay. Let's go."
He's not sure how long it takes to push their way through the crowd, but when they finally make it outside he takes a deep breath, filling his lungs with cool night air. He pauses just outside the door, head spinning a little from the combination of the beer and the sudden change in temperature. And he wants a cigarette, but before he has time to dig them out of his pocket Harlan's grabbing his hand, pulling him down the sidewalk toward the parking lot where they left the car.
He doesn't have to ask what the hurry is; he saw the look in Harlan's eyes right before they left the club, feels the way Harlan's gripping his hand and he has no idea how they're going to make it all the way back to his house. He gets his answer as soon as they reach the car, feels Harlan's hand slip out of his and he only has a second to regret it before Harlan's hands are on him again, pushing him up against the car and leaning in for a hard kiss.
And this is a bad idea, because they're still in public and even though there's no one around right now, that doesn't mean it'll stay that way. He's not sure if getting arrested for having sex in public is any better than getting arrested in a bar with a pair of fake I.D.s, but a second later Harlan pulls away and drops to his knees and it doesn't matter anymore.
He wants to tell Harlan to stop, but he's been thinking about this all night and instead of pushing Harlan away he leans harder against the side of the car, hands slipping against smooth metal and legs shaking as Harlan slides his zipper down.
The first rush of cool night air against his cock makes him shudder, followed quickly by Harlan's mouth and he gasps at the sudden heat. A hand lands on his hips to hold him against the car, pressing hard and he still can't believe they're doing this. Can't believe Harlan Ratcliffe's on his knees in a dirty parking garage, mouth working the length of his cock and his tongue doing that thing that makes Marcus want to scream.
He bites down hard on his lip, focusing all his energy on not coming in the first thirty seconds. Has a feeling Harlan wouldn't care, but he's been thinking about this moment for too long not to make it last. He's been thinking about Harlan's hands on him, pushing between his legs to press at the taut skin behind his balls, about his mouth stretched around Marcus' cock, eyes closed and muscles tense with concentration. He's been thinking about Harlan turning him around, tongue pressing inside him and then his cock, hands on Marcus' hips to pull him back with each thrust.
Picturing Harlan fucking him isn't the best way to keep himself from coming, but Harlan's fingers are pressing hard against that spot that makes his vision blur and before he can so much as murmur a warning he's coming. He thinks he lasted all of maybe three minutes, but he's spent most of the night hard and besides, they're still in public. So far no one's stumbled on them, but he knows it's only a matter of time and the words are on the tip of his tongue when Harlan climbs to his feet and leans in for another kiss.
He tastes himself on Harlan's tongue, Harlan's hands on his spent cock to tuck him back into his jeans and that's not right, because he wants Harlan to fuck him. Only there's no way they can get away with that in a public parking garage, so he settles for tugging Harlan's jeans open and sliding a hand inside. He's still breathing hard when his hand wraps around Harlan's cock, fingers shaking and the angle's a little awkward, but Harlan's thrusting into his grip and breathing hard against his mouth and Marcus can't bring himself to stop long enough to find a better position.
There will be plenty of time for that later, he tells himself, when they're safely back in the privacy of Harlan's room. Right now all that matters is getting off, stroking harder in time to Harlan's thrusts and when Harlan tenses and comes Marcus tells himself he doesn't regret rushing. Doesn't regret not asking Harlan to fuck him right here, bent over the hood of his car. Because he's already got a record and his eighteenth birthday is still three months away, so getting arrested is a guaranteed trip to juvy.
That doesn't stop him from regretting it a little when Harlan pulls away, lips swollen and face flushed as he reaches down to zip his jeans. Marcus' fingers are still slick with his come, and he doesn't think before he lifts them to his mouth to suck them clean. Doesn't even realize he's doing it until Harlan catches his wrist, gripping tight and dragging Marcus forward for another hard kiss before he lets go.
"You still owe me a dance."
Harlan's voice sends a shiver of pleasure down his spine, and Marcus swallows hard as he watches Harlan dig his keys out of his pocket. "This is better than dancing."
"How would you know, Marcus? You've never even tried," Harlan answers, but he's grinning and Marcus knows he's not pissed about leaving the club early. He might try to hold Marcus to the whole dancing thing later, but for now he's unlocking the car and pushing Marcus toward the passenger side, and as long as they're going home Marcus will do pretty much anything Harlan wants.
Title: Chatoyant
Fandom: Brotherhood II
Pairing: Harlan/Marcus
Rating: NC17
Summary: Marcus doesn't dance.
Author's note: This took forever and didn't turn out the way I planned, but it accomplishes what I need it to at this point in the series, which, if we're being honest, is not that much, because they're still doing the 'no talking, lots of sex' thing. I do have a plan. And an outline, even. Honest.
Marcus doesn't dance. Not that he's ever tried, but he's pretty sure he wouldn't be any good at it. He doesn't dance and he doesn't hang out at clubs, so he's not really sure what he's doing here. Aside from the fact that Harlan wanted to go out, and it wasn't like Marcus could really say no. It's Harlan's house, after all, his car and his rules and Marcus is just along for the ride.
He's never been in a place like this, dark and heavy and it feels like the whole room's moving in time to the music. There are people everywhere, pressed together on the dance floor and pushing in on each other at the bar, sitting at tables and standing in dark corners, prowling the room looking for something Marcus is pretty sure he doesn't want to know about.
It makes him wonder why Harlan wanted to come here, because they're not dancing and they're not trying to pick anyone up. Not that Harlan hasn't asked him to dance, hands all over Marcus and his breath hot against Marcus' neck when he whispered come on and ground their hips together. All it did was make Marcus hard, but just for a second he wished he did know how to dance, because he's pretty sure it would be worth it just to watch Harlan move.
He watches Harlan walking toward him, a fresh beer in each hand and his smile fades to a frown as he glances over Marcus' shoulder. Automatically Marcus follows his gaze, his stomach doing a weird little flutter when he recognizes the guy walking past him. The same guy who's walked past him three times already, staring in that blatant way that tells Marcus he doesn't care if he gets caught. Wants to get caught, maybe, and Marcus isn't really sure what it means.
The guy's still staring when Harlan reaches him, arm sliding around Marcus to press a beer into his hand and his mouth against Marcus' neck. The kiss is soft, lingering and public in a way Marcus wasn't really expecting, and he's glad it's dark in the club so Harlan won't see him blushing. Because there have been a lot of public kisses tonight, on his neck and his mouth and even his fingers that one time, but Marcus still isn't used to it. Has a feeling he won't get used to it before it's time to go, because they've never done this in front of anybody else and it's making the whole thing feel a lot more real than he expected.
It's terrifying, but it's kind of cool too and he catches himself arching his neck to give Harlan better access. He's sucking hard on Marcus' skin, one hand still holding his beer and the other resting on Marcus' waist, his whole body focused on leaving a mark where the whole world will see it. By the time he lets up Marcus is shaking, hard and needy and all he really wants to do is get the hell out of here.
"Jesus," he hears himself murmur, voice trembling as he leans into the solid heat of Harlan's body. And it's warm in the club, the air stifling and thick but he doesn't want to pull away, because Harlan's hand is still resting on his waist and Marcus isn't sure he can stand on his own for much longer. "Can we get the hell out of here already?"
"No way," Harlan answers, amusement and something else in his voice, and he pulls back far enough to look at Marcus. "Not until you dance with me."
"I already told you, I don't dance."
"Yeah, Marcus, I know what you said." Harlan grins, lifting his beer and Marcus' cock twitches at the sight of his mouth stretched around the glass. Pictures Harlan on his knees, right here in front of everyone. Or in the bathroom, his back pressed against a dirty stall door and Harlan pressed up against him, cocks grinding together and sweat pooling between his shoulder blades.
If they were at Harlan's house already he could have all that, and it wouldn't have to be in some disgusting bathroom. They could be in Harlan's bed already, sheets tangled around them and Harlan pushing inside him and there's no way he's going to make it through the rest of his night if he doesn't stop thinking about this. He doesn't want to think at all, but then, that's always been his problem.
"So what, you trying to get me drunk enough to forget that I don't know how to dance?"
Another smile, close up this time and it takes everything in Marcus not to lean forward and kiss Harlan. "No. Just drunk enough not to care."
Harlan does kiss him then, long and slow and he tastes like beer. He's tugging at Marcus' waist, inching them toward the dance floor and there's a part of Marcus that wants to follow. Just to get it over with, to give Harlan what he wants so they can get the hell out of here. But he knows as soon as he gets out there he'll regret it, when he's standing in the middle of the crowd and they're all moving around him.
"I mean it," he murmurs against Harlan's mouth, although he knows it's not going to do any good. Harlan's the most stubborn guy he knows; he's used to getting his way, and he doesn't like taking no for an answer.
Harlan laughs again, warm against his skin and he's pretty sure he should be insulted. But mostly he just wants Harlan to stop messing around, so he pushes a hand past the waistband of Harlan's jeans, fingers grazing bare skin and when Harlan tenses against him Marcus knows he's starting to lose his resolve.
"Let's go," he whispers, and he's not even sure if he's trying to convince Harlan to leave or if he just wants Harlan to shove him up against the nearest wall. His fingers dip a little lower, denim digging into his fingers and Harlan makes a noise low in his throat and reaches for Marcus' hand.
"Not yet." He takes a step backwards, reaching for Marcus' still untouched beer and setting both their bottles down on the nearest flat surface before he turns back to Marcus. "Come on."
"No."
"Okay, but you're disappointing your fan club." Harlan glances to the right, and before he can stop himself Marcus is following his gaze. The same guy's watching them, one shoulder pressed against the wall and Marcus has to suppress a shudder.
"How do you know he's not looking at you?"
"Give me a break, Marcus, he's been cruising you all night," Harlan answers, glancing at the guy again and now he looks almost pissed. "What the fuck are you looking at?"
They're too far away for the guy to hear him, but he's pretty sure Harlan wouldn't care if he did. He definitely wouldn't back down from a fight, and the last thing they need is for somebody to call the cops. He can just picture his parents' reactions to that phone call; not only would they kick him out of school, but he'd probably never see the outside world again. He definitely wouldn't see Harlan again, and that's not a risk he's willing to take.
"Just forget it," Marcus says, hand on Harlan's arm to tug him in what he hopes is the direction of the door. "I mean it, Harlan. Let's just get out of here."
Harlan finally looks at him, expression unreadable and for a second Marcus thinks he's going to refuse again. Then he leans forward, mouth pressed hard against Marcus' and all Marcus can do is kiss him back. He can feel the tension in Harlan's body, feels his cock digging into Marcus' thigh and when they finally come up for air Harlan nods once. "Yeah, okay. Let's go."
He's not sure how long it takes to push their way through the crowd, but when they finally make it outside he takes a deep breath, filling his lungs with cool night air. He pauses just outside the door, head spinning a little from the combination of the beer and the sudden change in temperature. And he wants a cigarette, but before he has time to dig them out of his pocket Harlan's grabbing his hand, pulling him down the sidewalk toward the parking lot where they left the car.
He doesn't have to ask what the hurry is; he saw the look in Harlan's eyes right before they left the club, feels the way Harlan's gripping his hand and he has no idea how they're going to make it all the way back to his house. He gets his answer as soon as they reach the car, feels Harlan's hand slip out of his and he only has a second to regret it before Harlan's hands are on him again, pushing him up against the car and leaning in for a hard kiss.
And this is a bad idea, because they're still in public and even though there's no one around right now, that doesn't mean it'll stay that way. He's not sure if getting arrested for having sex in public is any better than getting arrested in a bar with a pair of fake I.D.s, but a second later Harlan pulls away and drops to his knees and it doesn't matter anymore.
He wants to tell Harlan to stop, but he's been thinking about this all night and instead of pushing Harlan away he leans harder against the side of the car, hands slipping against smooth metal and legs shaking as Harlan slides his zipper down.
The first rush of cool night air against his cock makes him shudder, followed quickly by Harlan's mouth and he gasps at the sudden heat. A hand lands on his hips to hold him against the car, pressing hard and he still can't believe they're doing this. Can't believe Harlan Ratcliffe's on his knees in a dirty parking garage, mouth working the length of his cock and his tongue doing that thing that makes Marcus want to scream.
He bites down hard on his lip, focusing all his energy on not coming in the first thirty seconds. Has a feeling Harlan wouldn't care, but he's been thinking about this moment for too long not to make it last. He's been thinking about Harlan's hands on him, pushing between his legs to press at the taut skin behind his balls, about his mouth stretched around Marcus' cock, eyes closed and muscles tense with concentration. He's been thinking about Harlan turning him around, tongue pressing inside him and then his cock, hands on Marcus' hips to pull him back with each thrust.
Picturing Harlan fucking him isn't the best way to keep himself from coming, but Harlan's fingers are pressing hard against that spot that makes his vision blur and before he can so much as murmur a warning he's coming. He thinks he lasted all of maybe three minutes, but he's spent most of the night hard and besides, they're still in public. So far no one's stumbled on them, but he knows it's only a matter of time and the words are on the tip of his tongue when Harlan climbs to his feet and leans in for another kiss.
He tastes himself on Harlan's tongue, Harlan's hands on his spent cock to tuck him back into his jeans and that's not right, because he wants Harlan to fuck him. Only there's no way they can get away with that in a public parking garage, so he settles for tugging Harlan's jeans open and sliding a hand inside. He's still breathing hard when his hand wraps around Harlan's cock, fingers shaking and the angle's a little awkward, but Harlan's thrusting into his grip and breathing hard against his mouth and Marcus can't bring himself to stop long enough to find a better position.
There will be plenty of time for that later, he tells himself, when they're safely back in the privacy of Harlan's room. Right now all that matters is getting off, stroking harder in time to Harlan's thrusts and when Harlan tenses and comes Marcus tells himself he doesn't regret rushing. Doesn't regret not asking Harlan to fuck him right here, bent over the hood of his car. Because he's already got a record and his eighteenth birthday is still three months away, so getting arrested is a guaranteed trip to juvy.
That doesn't stop him from regretting it a little when Harlan pulls away, lips swollen and face flushed as he reaches down to zip his jeans. Marcus' fingers are still slick with his come, and he doesn't think before he lifts them to his mouth to suck them clean. Doesn't even realize he's doing it until Harlan catches his wrist, gripping tight and dragging Marcus forward for another hard kiss before he lets go.
"You still owe me a dance."
Harlan's voice sends a shiver of pleasure down his spine, and Marcus swallows hard as he watches Harlan dig his keys out of his pocket. "This is better than dancing."
"How would you know, Marcus? You've never even tried," Harlan answers, but he's grinning and Marcus knows he's not pissed about leaving the club early. He might try to hold Marcus to the whole dancing thing later, but for now he's unlocking the car and pushing Marcus toward the passenger side, and as long as they're going home Marcus will do pretty much anything Harlan wants.