
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/195115.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      The_Brotherhood_2:_Young_Warlocks_(2001)
  Relationship:
      Harlan_Ratcliff/Marcus_Ratner
  Additional Tags:
      Marking
  Series:
      Part 6 of Aftermath
  Stats:
      Published: 2011-05-05 Words: 3370
****** Flux ******
by carolinecrane
Summary
     Marcus is having a hard time figuring out what Harlan wants.
You're a smart guy, Harlan said. Think of something, as though Marcus was just
supposed to come up with a plausible excuse for why he was leaving campus for a
whole weekend. He hasn't left campus for more than a few hours at a stretch
unless it's a major holiday, and when he does leave it's always with Matt. So
he's not sure what he's supposed to tell his best friend about where he's
going, and in the end he decides not to tell Matt anything at all.
He packs a bag with enough clothes to get him through the weekend, packs his
toothbrush too and for once he's thankful that Matt's not his roommate so he
doesn't have to answer any awkward questions. And he's not even sure Harlan
wants him to spend the whole weekend – he never said how long he planned to let
Marcus hang around, if this was just for the night or even just for a few
hours.
But he wants Marcus around long enough to fuck him, and Marcus isn't really
sure he cares what happens after that. He's spent the past two days half hard
just thinking about it, remembering Harlan's mouth on him and his tongue
pushing inside and wondering if Harlan's going to do that again before he fucks
him. Or maybe he'll use his fingers this time, do some of that stuff Marcus has
read about on the internet when he's sure nobody's around to catch him.
He's nervous – okay, terrified – and not just because he's pretty sure the
first time is going to hurt. He's more scared that there won't be a second
time, that he'll be bad at it and Harlan will drive him right back to campus
and never look at him again. And this would be easier if they were friends, if
he knew Harlan gave a damn about him. Because so far they've had sex three
times, but they've never really had a conversation, and a weekend is a long
time to spend alone together.
That thought makes him laugh, because he's waiting in the parking lot for
Harlan to take him home and do things to him most guys would never even
consider, and he's worried about what they're going to talk about after. It
just goes to show that they don't belong together, that this whole fucked up
situation doesn't make any sense. There's a part of him that wants to turn
around and go right back to the dorm, lock himself in his room and unpack his
bag before he does something he can't take back. But there's another part him
that just wishes Harlan would hurry up already, and when he catches a glimpse
of cherry red paint he lets out a relieved sigh and swings his backpack down
off his shoulder.
When Harlan pulls up next to him he opens the door without hesitating, tossing
his backpack in the back seat before he slides onto soft leather and shuts the
door. He doesn't look over at Harlan until they pull out of the parking lot,
doesn't say a word as Harlan navigates the little clusters of students leaving
campus for home or the coffee house downtown. He doesn't know who saw him and
he really doesn't care, because he's actually going through with this and
that's all he can think about.
His stomach is a mess of nerves and he thinks he might actually be sweating –
reaches up just in case to run a hand over his face, rolling his eyes at
himself when his fingers press against cool skin. "How far is it?"
"Twenty minutes, give or take." Harlan glances over at him long enough to grin,
gaze wandering down Marcus' frame and someday he's going to ask how Harlan
manages to make him feel naked with just a look. "Why, you in a hurry?"
"Just drive," he answers, scowling when Harlan laughs and this isn't the way
this is supposed to go. Not that he expected Harlan to be nervous – he knows
better, knows this probably isn't the first time Harlan's done this. But Harlan
knows this is Marcus' first time – he has to, at least if the way he whispered
relax over and over when they were in the woods is anything to go by. He knows
Marcus is nervous, but Marcus is going through with it, and that means Harlan
should really try not to be an asshole just this once.
He should have known better, should have known Harlan couldn't be a decent guy
even after everything that's happened between them. There's a part of him that
wants to tell Harlan to forget it, to turn around and take him back to campus
and forget he ever heard Marcus' name. He's trying to decide how to say exactly
that when a hand lands on his thigh, warm fingers squeezing and familiar and
when he looks up Harlan's smiling. Just like that, and it's the smile Marcus
never wants to believe, but somehow he relaxes anyway.
And he knows better than to think it means anything, at least anything more
than Harlan knowing exactly how to calm him down before he starts to panic. It
bothers him how well Harlan knows him, how easily he can guess exactly what
Marcus is thinking and cut him off before he says it. Like Harlan's pulling his
strings, kind of the way Luc did, only what Harlan wants from him is a lot
easier to define than what Luc wanted.
His stomach twists at the thought, and suddenly he wishes they were there
already so they could get this over with. The warm buzz of anticipation he's
been riding all week gives way to anger, hard and bitter in the pit of his
stomach and when Harlan slows down and pulls up in front of a huge house Marcus
barely notices it. He's out of the car before Harlan even shuts off the engine,
backpack forgotten and it's just as well because he's pretty sure he won't need
it. Because he's not staying, he's not Harlan's friend and they're not here to
hang out while Harlan's parents are out of town the way Alex and Randall
probably used to do.
He's only here for one thing, and he'd change his mind and leave right now
except that he made a promise and he's not going to let Harlan think he's
backing down because he's scared. He doesn't even know where he's going, he's
just moving blindly in the direction of the house and when a hand closes around
his arm and pulls him backwards he doesn't try to fight it.
"What's your problem?"
The question makes him laugh, because if Harlan has to ask he's not sure what
they're doing here in the first place. "What do you care? We're not here to
talk, right?"
Confusion flickers in Harlan's eyes for a second, and suddenly Marcus isn't so
sure why he's angry. Because it was Harlan who started all this, Harlan who
dragged him behind a wall in front of half their class just a couple days ago.
And okay, they probably though Harlan was kicking his ass back there, but the
point is that Harlan wanted him enough to risk kissing him right out in the
open and he's so not thinking about that. He hasn't let himself, not since it
happened, because the second he starts reading too much into this thing between
them it's all over.
That's what Harlan wants – he wants to get under Marcus' skin, make him want so
that Harlan can laugh when he drops Marcus. But his hand's on Marcus' shoulder,
sliding up past his uniform jacket to curve around the back of Marcus' neck,
and it's warm and sort of comforting in a way that Marcus is trying really hard
to ignore. "Look, Ratner, would you just relax?"
Relax – sure, he can do that. Any second now he's going to stop obsessing about
every touch, stop analyzing each kiss and wondering what exactly Harlan means
by every smile. He's going to stop wondering where this is going and when
Harlan's going to start making demands, when the free ride ends and he turns
out to be just like Luc, to want something Marcus can't afford to give.
They're still standing in front of the house, probably a mile from the nearest
neighbors but still out in the open, exposed and Marcus isn't sure what makes
him surge forward and press their lips together. Maybe he's testing Harlan,
seeing how far he'll go when anybody could see them, or maybe he just really,
really wants Harlan to kiss him again. And he does, hand sliding into Marcus'
hair and his teeth clicking against Marcus' when Marcus pushes forward too
hard.
The hand in his hair tightens, pulling him back and then Harlan's looking at
him, just sort of holding him there and…watching, like he's waiting for Marcus
to disappear. A second, then two, and Marcus' fingers itch with the urge to
reach out and take, to see how far he can push and how much he can get before
Harlan decides he's had enough. Then Harlan's leaning in, taking control of the
kiss this time, keeping it slow and soft and just chaste enough to make Marcus
grip his jacket hard and try to pull him forward.
And he doesn't care if they never make it inside – doesn't care if Harlan fucks
him up against the car, bent over the hood like some bad porn. He doesn't care
about anything as long as Harlan keeps kissing him, and he's so caught up in
trying to crawl inside Harlan that he doesn't even notice they're moving until
they're inside the house. He's not sure when that happened, not sure how either
but he's too busy trying to get Harlan's clothes off to care.
"Hey," Harlan says, hands coming up to cover Marcus' and that's a little weird,
so Marcus stops struggling with his buttons and looks up. "Slow down. We've got
all weekend."
Harlan smiles again – that smile – and Marcus' stomach flutters. He doesn't
want to believe any of the promises he sees in that smile, but he's been hard
since he got in the car and he can't focus long enough to convince himself that
trusting Harlan is a mistake. And at least he knows now that Harlan wants him
here all weekend – that's something, anyway, so he lets himself be pushed
toward the stairs and up, stopping every few feet to trade hard, desperate
kisses and tug at layers of clothing.
When they reach the second floor he stops, knows if he looks back he'll see a
line of clothes from the front door all the way up the stairs. But he doesn't
look – doesn't even think about it, because Harlan's kissing him again, strong
arms wrapped around his waist and half-pushing, half-carrying him down the hall
toward a room he can only assume belongs to Harlan. He looks around long enough
to register a bed and not much else, but this is the first time they've ever
done it in a bed so that's all he really cares about.
Harlan's still guiding him, hands on his hips now and when they reach the edge
of the bed he stops and tugs at the last piece of Marcus' clothing. He steps
out of his underwear and lets Harlan push him back onto the mattress, heart
beating in double time because he's naked, hard and stretched out on Harlan's
bed and he hasn't forgotten why Harlan brought him here. And he's seen Harlan
naked before, but there's a big difference between the locker room at school
and Harlan standing in front of him, grinning and stripping off his underwear
before he climbs onto the mattress and kisses Marcus again.
They've kissed before, but it feels different this time, and Marcus tries hard
not to think about how as Harlan settles between his legs and lines up their
cocks. And that feels good – great, even, because he's spent a lot of time
imagining Harlan's weight pressing him into the nearest flat surface, and this
beats even his most elaborate fantasies. Harlan's kissing him slow, like they
really do have all the time in the world, and right now it's easy to believe
they do.
It's quiet in the house, their harsh breathing the only sound, and when Marcus
lets out a needy little moan he knows Harlan hears it. He's thrusting up hard
into the body holding him down, one leg hooked around Harlan's thigh and trying
to drag him closer. And Harlan's still murmuring things like relax and slow
down and a bunch of other stuff Marcus doesn't bother to listen to, because
he's been thinking about this for what feels like forever and he
wants…everything.
Wants it now, and he thinks he might even say it out loud because Harlan's
mouth leaves his neck and he opens his eyes to find the other boy watching him,
expression a mixture of amusement and something else Marcus doesn't have a name
for. "You sure?"
Yes, yeah, just hurry, he thinks, but he doesn't trust his voice so instead he
just nods. And he's not even sure what he asked for, what he's agreeing to or
how Harlan's going to use it against him later. The solid weight shifts off him
for a second, Harlan's arm stretching up over him and Marcus turns his face
into it, blindly pressing kisses to Harlan's bicep, the curve of his arm where
his shoulder meets his neck.
Harlan smells like…well, Harlan; sweat and some expensive cologne and musk and
that scent Marcus can't name but always makes him think of hot kisses and
Harlan's cock pressing against him. His mouth's taken on a life of its own,
licking and kissing every inch of Harlan he can reach, nuzzling against his
neck and trailing along his jaw until Harlan turns into him and fits their
mouths together.
He's leaning on one elbow, half on top of Marcus and kissing him slowly as his
hand slides down the center of Marcus' chest. When he reaches Marcus' cock he
strokes a few times, fingers slick with something Marcus doesn't recognize but
as soon as he realizes what it is he tenses. But Harlan's still stroking him,
slow enough to tease but not enough to get him off, and little by little he
relaxes into the sensation.
When he's moaning against Harlan's mouth and arching up into each stroke Harlan
lets go, fingers dipping lower to squeeze his balls and Marcus moans again at
the almost-pain. His legs drop open automatically, breathing in sharply when
Harlan's mouth presses against his neck to suck hard at the pale skin just
below his ear. And he's going to have to grow his hair even longer if Harlan
keeps that up, because he barely managed to hide the last mark Harlan left
under his uniform collar, and this one's going to be higher.
He can't make himself care, though, not when Harlan's mouth is hot against his
neck and his fingers are pressing hard against the taut skin just behind
Marcus' balls. And that feels amazing, better than Marcus ever imagined it
could, so he presses up into the sensation and just like that Harlan's fingers
slip a little lower.
He remembers how Harlan's tongue felt working him open, remembers how much he
wanted Harlan to push inside, so he forces himself to relax as Harlan's finger
circles the entrance to his body. And it's not quite as good as Harlan's
tongue, but it feels pretty good, warm and slick and Marcus pushes down
experimentally, drawing just the tip inside. For a second they both freeze,
then Harlan pulls away from his neck to look down at him. He waits for Marcus
to relax again, waits even longer for his uneven nod before he pushes his
finger further inside.
"You ever done this before?"
"No," Marcus manages, face bright red and it's not just the effort of forcing
himself to relax.
"You're something, you know that?"
And it's obvious Harlan's never lived in a dorm before, because it's one thing
for your roommate to catch you jerking off, but it's something else entirely to
get caught finger fucking yourself. But Harlan's smiling that smile that makes
Marcus forget that they're not friends – that they don't even like each other,
not really. And they don't, but he's starting to think that doesn't really
matter.
His finger's working in and out of Marcus, gaze locked on his face and he's
focused so intently on Marcus that it's hard not to squirm under the attention.
He doesn't, though – doesn't even close his eyes, because Harlan's watching him
and Marcus thinks he might kind of like being watched. It feels a little weird
to be lying on Harlan's bed, totally exposed while Harlan presses his finger a
little further inside, but just when Marcus starts to feel self-conscious
Harlan hits a spot inside him that sets off sparks behind his eyes.
He hears a moan and knows it's his own, hears Harlan's laugh echoing behind it
and then a soft kiss pressed to the side of his neck as Harlan pulls his finger
out. And that hardly seems fair, but before Marcus can complain Harlan's back
again, skin slick with more lube and this time he presses two fingers inside.
The stretch this time feels like he's being split open, and he's not sure how
he'll ever live through Harlan's cock pressing inside him, but when Harlan
finds that spot again he forgets to care. The stretch settles into a tingling
sort of pain-pleasure, and Harlan angles for the spot over and over until
Marcus is whimpering and thrusting up with the effort to get more. Or maybe get
away from the relentless pressure – he's not really sure, but then Harlan
reaches for his hand and wraps Marcus' own fingers around his cock and…yeah,
that's a thousand times better.
He strokes roughly, hard and fast and Harlan's still pressing inside him,
fingers stretching him and teasing his prostate and before he knows it he's
coming. Wet heat hits his stomach and fingers, chest heaving with the effort to
catch his breath and he's never come that hard. He thinks he might even have
broken something, because his limbs feel heavy and useless and he's positive he
couldn't walk even if he wanted to.
Then Harlan's fingers are sliding out of him, leaving behind a slight burning
and when Harlan crawls over him again Marcus wonders if he'll survive Harlan
actually fucking him. He's pretty sure it doesn't matter, because he can't walk
anyway and if he died right now he wouldn't really have any complaints. But
Harlan doesn't press inside him – he settles between Marcus' legs again, cock
sliding against the slickness on Marcus' stomach as Harlan kisses him,
thrusting hard against him once, then again and before he knows it Harlan's
coming.
He wants to ask why Harlan changed his mind, if he did something wrong or if
this is what Harlan meant by 'we've got all weekend', but he thinks he might
have lost his voice along with the rest of his motor skills. Besides, Harlan's
still kissing him – hot, breathless kisses feathered against his mouth, along
his jaw and down his neck, then back up to his mouth again. He doesn't even
have the energy to kiss back, but he does anyway, tongue sliding along Harlan's
bottom lip to slip inside and taste sweet and Harlan.
There are a dozen questions he wants to ask, like what else Harlan's got
planned for this weekend. He wants to know what Harlan wants from him, what
they're doing and maybe when he should expect it to end. He wants a cigarette,
and he's pretty sure Harlan's not going to let him smoke in the house, so he
could ask where he's supposed to smoke. But none of that seems as important as
the soft mattress under him or the solid weight pressing him down, and maybe
all his questions can wait until later.
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