Fandom: Empire Records
Pairing: Mark/Lucas
Rating: NC17
Author's Note: This is a birthday present for dearest
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Lucas isn't sure how Mark does this to him. How he can make the craziest things (come on, no one goes to the roof of the building) seem normal. Lucas is supposed to be the mature one now, dammit. The one who can take calls from distributors and unsigned bands trying to sell their music. The one who decides where they buy ad space. The one Joe trusts despite that whole nine thousand dollars thing.
He isn't supposed to be spread out face down on Joe's desk after midnight on a Friday. He isn't supposed to be gasping in stuffy, uncirculated air in a desperate attempt to breathe. He isn't supposed to have Mark biting damp kisses over his back and hips.
He isn't supposed to like it and a tiny, uncontrolled portion of his brain starts mumbling something about hetero-normative expectations but even that voice breaks off at the first touch of Mark's tongue.
They've done this once before, sometime in the middle of that endless first night where they touched each other every way they could think of. They haven't done it since and Lucas had assumed it was something that just didn't work for Mark.
Even if it had worked for him. A lot.
Another plush movement of Mark's tongue has Lucas shuddering, a line of goosebumps chasing up his spine and prickling his scalp. He can feel the edge of the desk sharp against his thighs but he doesn't care about the bruises he knows he's going to find in the morning or that his dick is leaving a sticky trail on the battered side of Joe's desk. He doesn't care that he's crumpling the latest inventory counts or that he's leaving sweaty handprints on the cover of the Rolling Stone Joe hasn't had a chance to read yet.
Mark does... something that leaves him breathless and he's pretty sure he wouldn't even care if Joe - if Warren - walked in right then. He's that close and he's pretty sure he can come just from this as long as Mark keeps -
"Nnnngh. No, don't - Oh!"
Oh. Oh. Mark leans over his back, one hand twined with Lucas' and the other tight on his hip, bracing him against the blunt pressure of penetration. The slow, splitting push of latex and erection has him twisting against Mark's hands, his sweat-slick body sliding through Mark's hold like water. The first gliding rub against his prostate is all it takes for Lucas to come, shuddering and clenching under and around Mark.
Mark is a solid weight on his back when he's together enough to pay attention again. His breath is hot and fast against Lucas' cheek and he can feel his sweaty chest and stomach through the rucked up material of his t-shirt. Between Mark's boneless sprawl and the closeness of the air, it's a struggle to draw a full breath but Lucas doesn't care.
He likes it.
Even if it is crazy.
Comments
First of all? MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MIIIIIIIINE. MUAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAA! ALL MINE!
Ahem. Yes.
This is so fucking perfect. Like, I can't even... I don't even know how you do it because, as I've told you, they are apparently just fucking beyond me. But you just own them, every little bit of them.
I love that Mark is so spontaneous and Markish and that Lucas is just fucking HELPLESS to resist his whims. I love that, really, it's not even about helplessness so much as it's about how Lucas just... what, trusts him? It's like that.
The fucking desk. Joe's fucking desk. I cannot even imagine a hotter location in the world. It's so fucking wrong and so fucking perfect at the same time. Where else is there even a modicum of privacy at Empire? The toilet? Not especially sexy. But Joe's desk? Fucking GUH. And then, just to ADD to the uncontrollable "Hi, I'm all your buttons!" aspect, there's the rimming. EXCUSE ME, PANTIES ON FUCKING FIRE.
a line of goosebumps chasing up his spine and prickling his scalp
I read this and I get fucking goosebumps.
He doesn't care that he's crumpling the latest inventory counts or that he's leaving sweaty handprints on the cover of the Rolling Stone Joe hasn't had a chance to read yet.
The details in this entire paragraph are so fucking unreal. Yes, I know what Joe's office looks like. Yes, I can close my eyes and see it in my head. But, no, not really. Until I read this everything is hazy and blurred together but then, with each of the little details you drop in, something new and desperately important pops up, all bright and crystal clear clarity. Also? ROLLING STONE. I take it as a personal shout-out to me and RS's infamous love/hate relationship.
if Warren
WAAAAAAAAARRRRRREEEEEEENNNNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!! ::FLAAAAAAAAAAIL:: Oh, my baby, you know how I love him.
The slow, splitting push of latex and erection has him twisting against Mark's hands, his sweat-slick body sliding through Mark's hold like water.
Oh. My fucking God. I can't... I don't even know where to fucking BEGIN with how this is the most beautiful fucking thing I have ever seen in my life. Splitting. Latex. Twisting. Sweat-slick. Like water. The imagery... THE FUCKING IMAGERY INSPIRED IN THOSE WORDS IS FUCKING UNBELIEVABLE. Fuck, my shoulders are tight with the need to just throw my arms in the air and flails until I pass out. You don't even know what you do to me with shit like this.
I love how Mark is just as fucking fucked out as Lucas in the next paragraph. I love that he's all sweaty and breathing hard and fucking sprawled on Lucas. I love the use of the word "boneless", it's so fucking perfect and guh and yes. But, really? The fucking kicker?
Even if it is crazy.
ALKJJJAKLHKLKLKLJSAOP'OP'K9-[IXQ3OPJAWJ FUCK. F U C K. Bring it right back. I just told you a few hours ago how your last lines always fucking kill me? And this is no fucking exception. I always feel like I've got all these loose ends with my last lines but you just... You are a master. The way it sounds in my head, Lucas' voice saying it in my head, is so fucking brilliant and pitch-perfect. God.
In conclusion, I am yours until the end of time should you want me. Thank you so much for this, baby. Best fucking birthday present in the world and it's all for me. ::curls up with::