
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/195106.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      The_Brotherhood_2:_Young_Warlocks_(2001)
  Relationship:
      Harlan_Ratcliff/Randall, Harlan_Ratcliff/Marcus_Ratner
  Series:
      Part 1 of Aftermath
  Stats:
      Published: 2011-05-05 Words: 938
****** That Surrender ******
by carolinecrane
Summary
     Pre-movie. Harlan likes Randall, but he's thinking about Marcus.
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.
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