Fic: The Kids in York (6/7)
Apr. 29th, 2012 03:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aeroport_artTitle: The Kids in York (6/7)
Characters: Marcus/Esca, Liathan, Cottia, Uncle Aquila, Placidus, etc.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: high school AU so the boys are 16/17
Word Count: 46k (7,200 this part)
Summary: Cottingswood High, Yorkshire. You get all kinds, but as someone who's bounced around Child Services, has a hot-headed chav for a best friend, and gets mistaken for a girl by the daft new student in History, Esca MacCunoval is not your ordinary kid.
PART SIX: Esca is a Shameless Slag When Intoxicated and Fairly Sure Placidus Has No Right Being That Hung
He bursts out of the gymnasium with a deep lungful of cold, dry air.
“Esca!”
Placidus catches up with him, swinging an arm over his shoulders. It’s bloody freezing out, yeah? So Esca buries his face into Placidus’ armpit and sticks his hands in Placidus’ coat pockets.
“Oh…hey.” A hand comes down over the back of Esca’s neck, fingers cold but the weight of them, nice. “You’re pretty plastered, aren’t you?”
“Ney,” Esca mumbles, except it comes out ‘aye’. He feels Placidus chuckle, the scratchy wool of his coat tickling Esca’s cheek. And when Esca opens his eyes, sometime later (or is it right away?), the long shadows they cast combine to make one four-legged monster that totters off to the car park.
-----
Esca falls back on his mattress, and it feels like the grandest thing in the world. For fuck’s sake, who knew his bed could feel so nice? And when did his body start to weigh twenty stone? He’s sinking through to the ground; his hands are paperweights, fisted in Placidus’ woollen lapels.
“Oof,” Placidus grunts, stumbling onto the bed as he braces himself over Esca. His knobby knees bracket Esca’s; his large hands splay by Esca’s ears.
“You’re in my bed,” Esca grins. His bed: the one place Placidus has been trying to get in all bloody week. Only something’s not right; now that Placidus is here, he looks less than victorious. In fact, he looks like he’s sucking a lemon.
“I don’t know if this is such a good idea,” Placidus says, his face gone all funny. It’s a new look on him. Placidus never looks anything but confident, or horny. Esca’s not even sure what this expression is—
“It’s concern, you jailbait lush.”
“Oh, so suddenly I’m too young for you?” Esca asks, hitching up to his elbows. “What happened to, oh, you’re legal or, oh, he got hisself drunk, or yeah, I’m a bloody perv and I fuck whatever moves?”
“I never said that.”
“The first parts, yeah, you did. And you were right. I am legal,” Esca breathes, reaching up to tug at Placidus’ lapel. “And I want you.”
At least, he wants Placidus to lie down on him. Cos Esca’s feeling bloody horny and dopey and fantastic, and his eyelids are heavy as sandbags and he wants nothing more in the world than for Placidus to bloody well do it, to just fuck him already, make him feel good the way he’s been promising all fucking week—
“Fuck, Esca,” Placidus pants. “Okay, okay. Jesus Christ, I’ll do it. Just stop talking.”
Esca feels Placidus buckle down to his elbows, springs shifting under them. He feels Placidus’ hand touch his face, leaving an electric wake as it drags down his cheek, down the side of his neck. Esca cranes his chin up, wanting more.
Fuck, Placidus says under his breath. Esca hears it though—eggs him on, saying yeah.
“Yeah,” Esca whinges, wrapping him arms around the back of Placidus’ neck and pulling him down. His mouth descends, and maybe Esca would be nervous about it—kissing, cos he hasn’t done much of it, doesn’t know what he’s doing—but it feels bloody good, warm and engulfing and naughty, much like the whisky thrumming through him.
They get on like that for awhile, snogging like drunk bastards at the end of the world. Placidus’ hand feels huge as it sneaks under Esca’s shirt and along his spine, all the way up between Esca’s shoulder blades. Placidus near lifts him with that hand alone, pressing insistently upwards until Esca gets the hint—pushes Placidus off to the side so he can rip off his leather jacket, yank his t-shirt over his head like it’s drowning him.
When they come together again, Placidus’ coat is nowhere to be found, and the plastic buttons of his shirt are cold against Esca’s chest, making his nipples pebble, or maybe that’s from the teasing way Placidus is flicking them with his thumbs.
“Gods, yeah,” Esca groans, arching into it like it’s supposed to feel incredible or summat; doesn’t really, his nips aren’t sensitive like a girl’s, but what does feel incredible is Placidus’ hands on his trousers-front, rubbing Esca’s hard-on through the denim as he sucks a bruise to the side of Esca’s neck.
“I told you,” Placidus says, once he’s come up for air. “I told you it’d be good. We could’ve been doing this all week.”
“Fuck you,” Esca bites, wriggling his hips to encourage what’s happening down there. Placidus finally stops teasing; he flips open the button and unzips Esca’s jeans. “Fuck me,” Esca gasps.
“Not yet,” Placidus says, but promises, “Later.”
The fuck me was metaphorical, but Esca doesn’t correct him. He’s a little distracted by the way Placidus is warming his fingers on Esca’s cock—oh God, there are hands are on Esca’s cock—and he’s a little embarrassed when a blurt of precum leaks out, but quickly turns exasperated when Placidus lifts his fingers to show him with a gleeful smile. Placidus pinches his forefinger and thumb together, revealing a sticky string of precum when they part.
“That was fast,” he taunts.
“S’not like I came,” Esca barks back. “Trust me, you’ll know when I’m coming. It’ll be all over your poncy face.”
“That so? I expect I’ll find out in about sixty seconds. Though it’d be impressive if you can shoot that far when I’m giving it to you from behind.”
Esca digs his nails into his palm, hard as he can, but he can’t even feel them so it’s no use—his cock twitches, dribbling another bit of precum onto his lower belly from where it’s peeking out of his briefs.
“That’s what I thought.”
“Fuck you,” Esca complains. “Shut up and do it then.”
Placidus makes a sound that’d be embarrassing for him if he weren’t such a shameless git. He’s off Esca in an instant, kneeled up and working open the front of his own trousers.
Esca’s face feels hot. He covers it with his hands—thinks better of it and relocates them inside his briefs, encircling the base of his dick and squeezing just this side of too hard.
Above him, Placidus still has all his clothes on, but now he’s hanging out of his trousers…
Oh.
Esca blinks, wondering if the liquor running through him’s playing tricks. But his eyes are fine; the sight remains.
The fact remains: Placidus is bloody well hung.
“It won’t fit,” Esca gapes.
“Hm?”
Fuck, get it together. “Nuffink.” Though it explains a lot. The confidence, namely. Placidus could prolly kill someone with that cock, split him in two. Or choke him to death. What a humiliating way to go. Death by cock.
“Are you okay?” Placidus asks doubtfully, stroking his dick (oh Jesus Christ, he ent even fully hard yet).
“I’m fine.” Esca says, digging his thumbs into his waistband and shimmying his jeans off his hips. Starts struggling when he gets to his knees, but these trousers, there’s a method to ‘em, see—Liathan might give him shit for his skinny jeans, but they’re comfortable, yeah—
“It’s kind of wrong how cute you are,” Placidus smirks, leaning down.
“I’ll end you,” Esca snarls, but the viciousness is tempered by the way Placidus has to help drag his jeans off, Esca’s legs in the air.
“Not before I take care of this.” All of a sudden, Placidus is kissing him again, and it’s much preferred to his talking so Esca kisses back with abandon.
Down below, he feels his cock—his rather unimpressive cock, comparatively—strains against Placidus’ palm. Placidus gently cups his balls, holding them out of the way as he pulls down Esca’s boxers just low enough for access.
He spits into his palm. Envelops Esca’s dick with it, slick and wet.
“Shit,” Esca curses, flinging his arm over his eyes as Placidus starts pumping him, his strokes long and earnest like he’s trying to draw water out of a dry well. Only Esca ent dry, not in any sense of the word, and it’s too much. He’s too horny—Placidus won’t stop—
“Lassie—”
“Oh my God, shut up,” Placidus says, putting his free hand on Esca’s bare thigh for leverage as he jacks him harder, faster. “If you call me that again I’m gonna stop.”
But he doesn’t, and so Esca comes, silently, eyes squinched shut, teeth bared in a grimace. His hips buck and Placidus has to hold him down as he continues working Esca’s cock, his thumb firm and hard against the belly of his dick like when Esca’s massaging out someone’s muscles. Except it’s his dick, and he just came and Placidus has got to—
“Stop, stop,” Esca gasps. “Oh my God stop, too much.” He shoves Placidus off with a square foot to the chest. “Stop.”
Placidus tumbles back, rear end perched on his heels as he devours Esca with his eyes. He licks his fingers, which—Esca would blush if he weren’t overheated already—are covered in Esca’s spunk.
“Ninety seconds.”
“What?”
“How long it took for me to get you off.”
“Shut up, will you?” Esca says, but he’s too wrung out to make a proper stink about it.
“Not unless you help me with this,” Placidus says, crawling forward again until he’s eye-level with Esca…
At which point, Placidus sends a meaningful look between his legs.
A quick glance makes Esca’s heart race again. Placidus is hanging down, completely erect. His cock is wider around the middle, with a flared, mushroom head gone slightly purple.
The image is a bit terrifying. But it’s hot, too. Mostly hot. Esca wets his lips. Placidus kisses him with a loud smack.
“Flip over,” Placidus says, pushing at Esca’s side to help him roll onto his belly, which—ew, that’s a lot of cold, sticky come he just got all over his blanket. Whatever; he’ll just add it to the laundry tomorrow—
Placidus spanks him with a loud, crystal clear crack.
“Ow!” Esca yelps, shooting an affronted stare over his shoulder at Placidus, who looks entirely too happy with himself. “The fuck you do that for, eh? I ent into that shit, not gonna call you daddy, you fucking perv.”
“Shame,” Placidus grins. “That would be hot. But mostly I just couldn’t help myself. Your cute little butt was right there.” He pulls on the elastic of Esca’s pushed-down boxers, letting it snap right against the crease of his ass.
“Fuck’s sake, just get on with it,” Esca groans, letting his head drop between his shoulders.
He can’t see Placidus no more, but he sure as hell can feel him. Well, his dick, to be precise.
With one hand rubbing Esca’s arse—right where it still tingles from the spank—Esca can feel something wet smear between his cheeks, which involuntarily clench.
Trepidation tastes like salt in his mouth, and Esca closes his eyes, willing himself not to be such a fucking pussy about this.
“Hey,” Placidus says, still dragging his dick up and down. “Relax. I’m not actually going to fuck you, you know.”
Esca opens his eyes. “You’re not?”
“God, no. I want you to actually like this, okay?” Placidus tightens his hand, the one on Esca’s arse, and pulls it aside, letting cool air breeze over his damp cleft. Esca feels something blunt and wet press in, right where his asshole is. “Though I won’t lie, you’d feel so, fucking amazing.”
Esca’s heart is in his throat. If Placidus just pushed—just a little bit hard, hard enough to get that thing inside him—he’d be inside him, holy Jesus fucking Christ. The pressure is still there, Placidus circling his dick in tiny, little ministrations, like he’s worming himself in.
Shit. Esca’s not scared—he’ll let him, yeah? But Placidus is—s‘just that he’s fucking big—
A high-pitched noise escapes from Esca’s throat, surprising and embarrassing. “Sorry,” he says automatically, trying to calm himself down.
“Fuck, you’re so.” Placidus breathes in through his teeth, and Esca feels his dick slip so that he’s pointed up instead of in. “I wish we had more time. Another week, or something.”
He can’t think of anything to say back to that, so Esca moves his arms up and pillows his head in them, concentrating on the feeling of Placidus rutting against his arse. Now that the imminent threat of penetration has passed, he feels himself relax.
Loose-limbed and pleasantly drowsy from coming, Esca closes his eyes, arching his back a little for Placidus to get a better angle. Both hands are on his ass cheeks now, Placidus pushing them around his dick. He’s dry humping, Esca’s skin going a bit tender from all the chafing, but it seems to suit Placidus fine who’s worked himself into an unusual stretch of silence, but for the heavy breathing and periodic fucks and Gods which make Esca grin with self-satisfaction.
A cool drip of precum touches the plane of Esca’s lower back, drizzling down from Placidus’ frenzied rocking. It won’t be long now.
“Esca,” Placidus groans, leaning his forehead against the back of Esca’s neck. It’s damp, and Placidus’ hair tickles. The drape of his shirt, forgotten until now, is cool with sweat against Esca’s back.
He wants it off—wants to get him off—and so Esca forces his arse into the air, giving Placidus something hard to rub against. It works like a charm, and before long, Placidus is biting Esca’s shoulder, muffling a whinge as he paints Esca’s lower back with warm stripes of come.
“Oh fuck,” Placidus groans mindlessly, which makes Esca flush with pride. He grinds back against Placidus’ still-jerking hips—
The door his to bedroom slams open, doorknob meeting plaster wall with a bone-rattling thwack as Esca startles. Whips his head around to see Marcus looming large in the doorway, his face stormy as he begins to stomp over.
“Hey—“ Placidus protests, but then Marcus hauls him off Esca’s back and smashes a fist into his face, effectively shutting him up.
“Shit,” Esca says, clambering up as he yanks his skivvies back over his arse, eyes huge when the boys tumble off the bed and onto the ground. “Marcus, stop.”
Maybe he didn’t hear, couldn’t hear—not over the sound of their messy brawling on the carpet—but Marcus ignores him. Still toffed up in his three-piece suit and shiny leather shoes, he makes an odd picture lurching astride Placidus’ thrashing body.
”Marcus!” Esca shouts, leaping over to help Placidus, who hasn’t got a chance. “Jesus Christ, he wasn’t—it wasn’t how it looked,” he pleads, pulling at Marcus’ shoulder. But Marcus is twice his size, and he ent budging. He’s frightening like this; far from bloodthirsty, Marcus looks focused and in control, only the maniacal glint in his eyes betraying any hint that he’s pounding Placidus into cornmeal.
“He was forcing you,” Marcus growls, followed by another blunt sound, fist against muscle.
“For fuck’s sake, I wanted it, Marcus!” Esca blurts, as he finally manages to pry him off. Slams Marcus against the dresser, mirror rattling against the wall above them.
Marcus glares, fierce and out of breath. Esca twists around and hisses to Placidus.
“Get out of here.”
The man hardly needs to be told twice. Placidus gets up and backs out of Esca’s door, tucking himself back in his trousers with an apologetic look in his eyes. Marcus bucks beneath Esca like he wants to go after him, but the curt backhand across the face keeps Marcus still.
”Stop it,” Esca commands, putting as much authority into his voice as he can. In the corridor, Placidus’ footsteps hurriedly fade as Marcus comes back to him, green eyes familiar once more as they warily blink at Esca.
“I don’t get it,” Marcus says, his voice punched out and strained. When his eyes trail down Esca’s body, he remembers he’s wearing nuffink but his skivvies and he’s covered in come. It pulls at his skin, tacky on his belly, his lower back. God, if he had a rock to crawl under right now.
“I—“ Marcus tries again. “I thought you were straight,” he says helplessly.
“I am,” Esca says on reflex. But shit, he’s being unclear—realizes that when Marcus’ face sharpens in anger once more. “I mean…sort of. I like birds. But sometimes I like blokes too. I suppose…all I really give a toss about is sex, like. If I’m having it or not.”
“Sex,” Marcus says dumbly. “And it doesn’t matter who with. You’ll do it with—fuck, you’ll have sex with Placidus—“ Marcus stops himself, staring down as his ears start to go pink.
Esca suddenly notices where they are, sprawled on the carpet gap between Esca’s wooden dresser and bed. Esca in Marcus’ lap like a sodding dancer at a strip club, knuckles clenched tight in the fabric of Marcus’ expensive jacket.
Under him, Marcus is tense. Vibrating, almost. Fuck, what if…what if he’s not okay with Esca tossing off with other blokes? Italians can be bloody conservative sometimes, can’t they? For fuck’s sake.
“Look, I’m sorry if you’re—“
Marcus surges forward, bashing their noses together.
“Ow,“ Esca yelps, only to to have the noise swallowed by Marcus’ mouth.
A warm palm comes up to cradle the back of Esca’s head, and Marcus angles himself better, moving his lips so that they’re—oh Christ, what are they doing? They’re—
Jesus, they’re kissing.
Marcus is kissing him.
Being drunk can’t make you hallucinate, can it?
“Mrrkss,” Esca mumbles, staring at Marcus’ face even though he’s too close and it makes his eyes cross. “Mrrks, st’pp.”
Marcus bumps his head against Esca’s dresser in his haste to pull back. “Shit,” he says breathlessly. “Sorry.”
Esca presses the back of his wrist against his lips, which are warm and wet. He asks Marcus with his eyes: Wot the fuck?
Marcus turns cagey, gaze skittering over everything but Esca. It’s futile, though—Esca can always get what he wants out of Marcus just by staring, and right now, even more than wanting another kiss? Esca wants an explanation. Fuck, he needs one.
Like clockwork, Marcus peers up at Esca through dark lashes.
“And you call me the moron?” Marcus picks up, like they’ve been talking all this while. He pairs his words with a self-deprecating smile. Esca’s heart thumps.
Is he saying what Esca thinks he’s saying?
Feeling impulsive—or perhaps just drunk—Esca closes his eyes and leans in, pushing his mouth against Marcus’. Momentum knocks Marcus’ head against the dresser once more, but he’s kissing back, holy fuck.
It’s everything Esca imagined. Marcus’ mouth is plush and sensuous—sure in the way he moves, deliberately kissing Esca’s upper lip, then the lower, before delving in wholeheartedly. Esca moans, winding his arms around Marcus’ neck to anchor himself lest he lose himself completely, and when Marcus palms Esca’s waist and yanks him even closer—Esca’s nipples chafing against the fabric of Marcus’ suit—a hardness nudges up against Esca’s belly. When he realizes it ent his own erection, but Marcus’, he nearly blacks out.
Esca breaks away, panting. “Fuck, Marcus. I want it. I want you. For weeks. Fucking do me, already.”
“Esca,” Marcus says hoarsely. Esca could get used to the sound of his name like that, syllables dragged over a grater.
Esca rolls his hips and attacks the side of Marcus’ neck, sucking hard right over the spot Cottia had marked with lipstick. It tastes faintly like grease, a little salty. It’s not bad, and Esca laves the spot with his tongue until it just tastes like spit. Marcus rocks up beneath him and Esca rides the swell, ecstatic.
“Yeah,” Esca sighs, burrowing his face into the crook of his own shoulder, arms still tight around Marcus’ neck. He’s tingling all over, skin buzzing with the pleasant numbness of too much whisky but still he can feel Marcus’ hands roaming everywhere. They sweep down Esca’s shoulder blades and palm the sides of his ribs. His hands are huge; Marcus could crack him open, just like that.
“Fuck, Marcus.”
In response, Marcus shoves his nose under Esca’s ear and sucks a tight, hard hickey over his jumping pulse. It stings, quick and sharp, making Esca squirm in Marcus’ lap.
Marcus groans, the rawness of it making Esca’s head spin. Suddenly, all he can feel is Marcus’ cock through his trousers—a thick, heavy presence against Esca’s front, counterpoint to the gentle hands trailing down Esca’s spine.
“Marcus,” Esca gasps. “I want—for fuck’s sake, Marcus. I want you—“
Marcus’ hands freeze, just the tips of his fingertips touching Esca’s lower back. “Don’t stop,” Esca whines, out of his mind. “Fucking hell, Marcus. Don’t fucking stop.”
“This. This is a bad idea,” Marcus stutters suddenly, pushing Esca off his lap.
Esca’s skinny shoulders collide with the side of his bed, jolting him. Fuck, he’d thought—Marcus was kissing him back, wasn’t he?
“What is it?” Esca eventually asks, heart in his throat. Horror creeps into the pit of his stomach, empty and snatching.
Marcus climbs to his feet, palming the corner of Esca’s dresser to stand at full height. His dick is still hard, tenting out from dark grey trousers.
“I don’t understand,” Esca says, when the silence becomes unbearable. Marcus is no help; he simply looks at him, uncertain, like Esca’s the one who stopped a good thing, yeah?
Esca snags his shirt from where it’s lying in a crumpled ball on the floor and clambers to his feet, pulling it on. The room lurches and Esca stumbles back, relieved when the mattress catches his arse instead of the fucking ground, cos that’d be right bloody embarrassing. He reclines on his hands, shoulders jammed up against his ears as he sends Marcus a baleful look.
“I won’t tell anyone your dirty secret, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he accuses.
“Fuck, Esca,” Marcus says heavily, scrubbing his forehead with the back of his hand. “That’s not it. I…I want this. But it’s just—fuck, you’re covered in, you know.” Marcus touches his forefinger to his thumb a few times, and Esca can see his sticky fingers. He can feel how his back is painted up and down with Placidus’ come, gluing his t-shirt to his skin. “And you’re drunk. You are so drunk.”
“No, I’m not,” Esca counters, but the point’s lost when his hand slips out from under him and he jerks to stay upright.
A warm look enters Marcus’ eyes—amused and fond, if disappointed.
Esca glares at him. “Well, I’m not gonna beg for it, yeah? So get out if you’re gonna go.”
Marcus’ eyes sharpen with something unnameable. He comes back across the room, Esca’s heart lurching with hope when Marcus bends down to place a soft, deliberate kiss on his lips. But that’s all he gets, even when Esca reaches up and tugs on Marcus’ jacket lapels, anchoring him in place.
“Esca,” Marcus chides quietly, lips moving against his before pulling back. Leans his forehead against Esca’s, who tries to chase another kiss. But Marcus shakes his head.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” he murmurs.
“You can see me now,” Esca insists, cos Marcus’ proximity is making him dumb and needy and fuck, he wants.
“Not sure I want to,” Marcus teases. “You smell pretty ripe. And I have standards to keep up.”
Esca snorts. “Whatever, I’ll just call Lassie back in ‘ere.”
Marcus tenses immediately, then tackles Esca with a possessive, thorough kiss that pushes them both horizontal. Esca’s eyes flutter shut, making a note to himself to bring up Placidus more often. Behind his eyelids, the ceiling spins and he ent sure if it’s from the booze or lack of oxygen.
Marcus travels down Esca’s jaw, nipping at his chin before burying his face against his neck to growl, “You’re lucky I don’t kill that fucker.” And shit, that shouldn’t be hot. Murderous intent should never be hot, but Jesus fucking Christ it is.
“I was taking the piss,” Esca says weakly as Marcus ravages his neck, the high slope of his shoulder. It’s gonna be fucking mess tomorrow, and Esca’s so bloody turned on at the idea.
“But if you want to make sure, you should stay,” Esca says, humping up against Marcus’ erection. “Fucking hell, Marcus. Just bloody stay.”
It gets the opposite reaction he wants. Esca can feel his face fall when Marcus extricates himself, getting off the bed and dusting off his thighs.
“Lord knows I want to,” Marcus says ruefully. “But you need to sleep on it. I’ll be here in the morning.”
“Ugh,” Esca complains, covering his face with his hands. “I’m offering you sex. You’re bloody mental not to want sex.”
When Esca peeks through his fingers, he sees Marcus letting himself out the door.
“It’s not just sex,” he says, so quiet Esca almost misses it. Then he shuts the door behind himself.
Esca slowly draws his hands away, settling them at his sides. He can feel his face warm as a strange mix of panic, disbelief, and elation fight for dominance inside him.
Through their shared wall, Esca can hear the muffled noises of Marcus readying for bed. It’s familiar; comforting. Enough so that eventually Esca rolls onto his side, facing Marcus’ room, and simply listens.
The long day catches up to him then, an anvil sinking on Esca’s shoulders. He drops into the heavy, dosed slumber of the well and truly exhausted.
-----
Esca wakes. It’s early, he can feel it. He feels like shit, his brain throbbing behind his eyeballs. He’s really fucking thirsty.
When he curls up to a sitting position, his shirt stays plastered to his back like a second skin. Oh yeah—that. That’s really fucking gross.
Esca mashes his eyes with the heels of his hands in efforts to rouse himself, then swings his legs out of bed and steals away into the dark, silent corridor in the direction of the bathroom.
A long shower always feels amazing when he’s hung over, and as Esca stands under the spray—water turned just this side of too hot—he feels himself slowly return to the land of the living.
The night’s events float back to him like a dream. Fuck, he’d been so…so shameless with both Placidus and Marcus, and while Esca refuses to regret any of it he’s still embarrassed enough about the whole thing he could drown himself in the shower.
But then he wouldn’t get to see Marcus.
Jesus. Marcus.
Esca shuts off the tap with a metallic squeal.
Toweling his hair dry, it doesn’t cross Esca’s mind not to go where his feet lead him next. He swings the damp cloth around his hips and holds it there as he bypasses his bedroom door and lets himself straight into Marcus’ room.
Eyes adjusting, the streetlight that filters in between the blinds is enough for Esca to make out Marcus’ sleeping form beneath the covers. Esca navigates errant trainers and textbooks, whispering, “Marcus.”
He hitches the towel up on his hips as he approaches the bed. No reaction, which is expected. A cursory glance at the digital clock reveals it’s only five in the morning.
He shouldn’t be here.
But the air is cold against his damp, drying skin, and that’s all the reason Esca needs to pull back a corner of Marcus’ sheets and slide inside.
Marcus snuffles, recoiling instinctively from the chill Esca brings in. In contrast, Marcus feels hot, like pavement baked in the sun. Doesn’t seem fair for him to hoard it all.
“Cold,” Esca mumbles, curling himself into a ball and shoving his feet beneath Marcus’ thigh.
Marcus freezes, but he doesn’t move away. “Esca?” he asks, sounding confused.
“Yeah,” he replies, too drowsy to add more. Just burrows against Marcus’ sleep-warm body, enjoying the scent of Lenor dryer sheets that greets his nose. He’s glad he sneaks extra fabric softener in Marcus’ laundry, now. His clothes feel so nice.
“What are you doing?” Marcus asks, and the arm he slips around Esca seems like an unconscious move.
“You said sleep on it. So I slept on it,” Esca explains. “You can’t say no, now.”
Marcus shifts up on one elbow and blinks at Esca. “What time is it?”
Time to kiss. Time to fuck.
For fuck’s sake, time for them to fucking do it already.
Esca reaches beneath the covers and shoves the towel off his hips.
“Esca?” Marcus says, sounding choked. Maybe it’s cos Esca’s wormed his way into Marcus’ arms, naked as a babe, and started mouthing at the base of his throat.
“Shu’up,” Esc murmurs, licking.
“Hold on—“
“Seriously, Marcus.” Esca runs the edge of his teeth across Marcus’ collarbone, displeased when he tastes cotton t-shirt. He asks, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice, “Can’t we have this yet?”
Marcus freezes, fingers light on Esca’s bare arms. Esca’s heart is somewhere near his throat. Fuck, he thought he’d learned to stop putting himself in this position, vulnerable and open. It’s a horrible feeling, like free-falling. He’s allowing Marcus everything.
Just when he thinks he’s made a horrible mistake, Marcus drags Esca back against his chest and kisses his face. Not sure where he was aiming—it’s five in the bloody morning, in his defence. But it feels amazing anyway.
“Yeah,” Marcus says in his ear, rough like sandpaper. “Okay.”
Esca’s eyes flutter shut, and he’s given over to the feeling of Marcus’ hands tightening on his biceps. It’s short warning before Marcus nudges Esca’s face with his own, tipping them up so that their mouths align. Marcus tastes like morning breath, but Esca could give a flying fuck. Just licks his way inside, possessive.
It’s all instinct from there on. What feels right. Like a heat-seeking missile, Esca chases with increasing focus. He’s waking up, body electric with every low-rumbling groan Marcus makes. He’s shutting down, Esca’s brain retreating like the tide.
It’s nothing like with Placidus. Feels nice like before, but he’s here this time. This is Esca MacCunoval, hard and aching against Marcus’ thigh. This is Marcus Aquila, nudging Esca off just enough to yank his shirt over his head, to kick his boxers off his feet.
“Come here,” Marcus says, and now they’re skin-against-skin. Everything feels heightened: the burn of Marcus’ short stubble. The coarse hair on his legs, the smoothness of Marcus’ torso, which Esca keeps running his hands over, greedy-like.
They’re both turned on as Esca sucks on every bit of Marcus he finds, whether it’s his neck or each of his dark nipples. All the while, Esca lazily thrusts, pleased at the silky slide of their cocks rubbing together.
“Esca,” Marcus gasps, alerting him to the fact Esca’s beginning to leak. He might be embarrassed, but then Marcus roughly grabs his arse and grinds their hips together, so.
“Fuck,” Esca swears, humping back like a madman. “Fuck’s sake, you can’t just—“
“Can’t what?” Marcus smiles, licking his thumb all innocent like he’s just catching ice cream. Then he reaches down and smears the tip of Esca’s dick, slick with precum.
“Jesus—“ Esca squeezes his eyes shut and breathes noisily through his mouth. “You fucker.”
“Yeah?” Marcus asks huskily. “You want that?”
“Want what?” Esca’s mindless. He doesn’t know what Marcus is on about.
He rolls Esca over like he weighs nuffink. Esca would protest or summat, but then Marcus is blanketing him, heavy and warm like the sun.
His lips brush up against Esca’s ear, and it almost tickles, makes him shudder.
“You want me to fuck you?”
Jesus Christ. Esca blinks a bit, not sure he’s heard right. But Marcus is looking back with an entirely serious expression.
It’s not like he hasn’t thought about it. Or fingered himself while tossing off before. Cos he has.
(A lot.)
The thought of Marcus—beautiful, earnest, and bloody daft-as-fuck Marcus—fucking him? Hard and unforgiving, the way Esca knows Marcus can be when he thinks someone can take it?
“Esca?” Marcus asks, and his voice is less confident.
“Aye,” Esca quickly says, reaching up and holding Marcus at the back of his neck. Makes sure those green eyes are locked on his, cos he wants Marcus to have no doubts, none. “I want it.”
He doesn’t necessarily mean right that second, but quick as you please Marcus ducks underneath the twisted-up coverlet. Esca’s got to rely on touch to know what Marcus is doing down there, but—Jesus fuck—with a warm grip wrapped around his shaft and the wet, insistent rub against the head of his dick, it’s pretty obvious.
Wishes he could see it, Marcus’ full lips going down on him. He could compare it to his fantasies then, although his fantasies never quite covered how much suction Marcus would use, like he’s trying to hoover Esca down his throat. Or how much Marcus would drool, Esca’s balls getting wet.
“Marcus,” Esca says, panic alighting when he realizes how he’s close already. Fuck, it hasn’t even been five minutes yet.
Esca drops his arm over his eyes and starts twisting his hips, trying to shake Marcus off. Instead, Marcus just makes a muffled, choked sound and rubs at Esca’s perineum, which is slippery with spit and precum.
“Fuck—“
Marcus pushes a finger into Esca’s arse, blunt and dry. It feels weird, and it’s enough to stave Esca from orgasm.
“God, Marcus,” Esca says, biting his lower lip. “A little warning?”
Marcus pulls off Esca’s dick with an obscene sort of slurp, then shoves the covers off so that his bed-head comes into view.
Marcus’ cheeks are red, and his lips—fuck. Esca has to close his eyes at the sight.
“Sorry,” Marcus says, but clearly he’s not cos he’s trying to worm a second finger in.
“For fuck’s sake,” Esca grumps, reaching down to tug at Marcus’ hand—wincing at the sensation of his finger exiting, cos that’s seriously weird—and holds up Marcus’ hand eye-level.
Esca sucks two of Marcus’ clean fingers into his mouth, the middle and ring. Wets them nice and proper, like when he’s doing it to himself.
“Fuck. You look.” Marcus licks his lower lip, which is plump and red. “Um.”
Esca smiles around Marcus’ fingers, then pulls off with a slick pop. “Try again.”
Marcus grins back, then gets back down between Esca’s legs with a quick kiss to the inside of one thigh. “Tell me if it hurts,” he says, and Esca just kicks him with his heel like he’s spurring a horse on.
It’s better now, lubed with spit. Marcus adds more, licking around Esca’s hole which—hm, unexpectedly hot. One finger becomes two becomes wriggling, twisting, then slow, confident pumping.
This is better. This Esca can get used to. He shuts his eyes and tries to relax, lets himself imagine it’s Marcus’ dick going in and out of him. Force of habit. Then he remembers that it actually can be Marcus’ dick, and that starts him off anew.
“Come on,” Esca gasps, hips thrusting down against Marcus’ fingers. “Enough already. Fuck me. Don’t make me wait any longer.”
It’s all the urging Marcus needs. As soon as Esca feels Marcus withdraw, he flips over and presents his backside, pulling his cheeks apart like Marcus doesn’t know where his arsehole is. Just in case, yeah?
“Jesus Christ, Esca,” Marcus bites out, sounding wrecked. It makes Esca smiles into the pillow, giving him enough mirth not to panic when something nudges up against his hole. Feels like Marcus’ fingers, but bigger.
Wait. Shouldn’t there be like…condoms, or summat?
“Did you and Placidus…” Marcus asks tightly. “Were you safe?”
Esca looks over his shoulder, his eyes wide. “We didn’t,” he starts. Licks his lips. “Not that, I swear.”
The pinched look starts to leave Marcus’ face, and he sighs, visibly relaxing. “I’ve never, um. So I’m clean.”
Esca feels his heart thud. He can hear how thick his voice is when he responds, “Me too.”
The look Marcus gives him is too much. Hopeful, happy, and—God, he can’t even think it. Safe to say nobody looks at Esca this way.
Esca turns back around and buries his face in his arms. “Come on, Marcus. You trying to give me blue balls, here?”
Esca hears Marcus spit, and then his dick is back where it’s supposed to be. But better because he’s pushing and Jesus fuck, Esca knew Marcus was big but he feels fucking massive, like, not-physically-possible amounts of huge.
“God, you’re—“ Marcus chokes out. “Are you sure—“
“Yeah.” Esca cants his hips in encouragement, feeling the head of Marcus’ dick ease in. Hardest part over, right? “Yeah, come on. Keep going.”
Unfortunately, it just gets harder. Esca feels his erection flag the deeper Marcus goes, cos—all right, he’ll be honest, it’s still too dry and bloody well feels like Marcus is cleaving him in half with his cock.
Yet even more than wanting the pain to stop, Esca wants to give this to Marcus. He wants to make this work. And so he’s relieved that Marcus can’t see how Esca’s going soft and won’t know he’s half-faking when Esca pants heavily and moves backwards, getting more—Jesus, there’s more?—of Marcus inside.
“Oh my God,” Marcus breathes, sounding incredulous. He huffs a little laugh. Esca hopes he hasn’t lost his marbles, but if so at least it’ll be cos Esca’s such a great lay. Totally worth it.
“This isn’t, um.” Marcus shoves that last bit inside, and Esca’s never been more glad to feel someone else’s balls swing against his own. Fuck. He’s so full he can barely breathe. Sounding like he’s having trouble as well, Marcus warns, “Isn’t going to last long.”
“Then come,” Esca begs. He squeezes his arse and rocks back and forth. It doesn’t really move Marcus’ cock in and out or nuffink, cos he’s bloody well plugged tight. What it does do, however, is make Marcus drop his forehead—a bit damp, his hair still soft—between Esca’s shoulder blades and come with a stuttering gasp.
Esca hides his face in his arms, feeling content, too happy to dare show it to the world. Marcus’ hips jerk against Esca’s arse, and his cock feels wetter inside of him, starting to drag in and out like it’s been greased.
He hits a spot—Jesus Christ, Esca shouts a bit from surprise. Holy shit, is that…is this why poufs like to fuck each other in the arse? He knew it was supposed to be good both ways, but wasn’t entirely sure that wasn’t a made-up story so gay blokes could still fuck each other.
“Oh God,” Marcus groans, sounding shattered. He’s draped all over Esca like dead weight, and Esca wants to pout a bit cos now, when it’s finally getting good? Marcus is out for the count.
Esca elbows Marcus off of him, making a face when his cock slips out. It drags come with it, Marcus’ dick sliding over the backs of Esca’s balls as Marcus pulls back, away from view.
“God,” Marcus repeats from behind, like it’s the only word he remembers how to say. Esca’s legs are starting to vibrate from having been up so long, but when he starts to buckle Marcus is there in an instant, big hands holding him up by the arse and thumbing his cheeks apart, like a gentleman.
“Oi,” Esca says, trying to send a glare backwards but Marcus avoids the look by dipping down and—holy shit—sticking his tongue inside Esca’s arse.
Esca struggles to speak but succeeds only in making shocked noises that do nothing to cover the lewd sounds Marcus makes as he eats him out. The flat of Marcus’ tongue drags over Esca’s hole over and over again, his lips wrapping around Esca’s balls one at a time to clean them of come.
It’s too much. The thought of Marcus doing…what he’s doing. Esca ent some hardcore porno star, yeah? Jesus Christ he’s only a teenaged bloke.
“Shit,” Esca swears, then comes. He ent even touching himself, wouldn’t know he’d finished but for the liquid skimming across his lower belly. And when he collapses onto the bed, the covers are soaking wet.
Ears roaring, Esca needs a moment to come down from his high. But when he does, Marcus is there, next to him with a triumphant look on his face as he wipes his chin with the back of his hand. He looks like a moron.
“You look like a moron,” Esca mumbles.
“I’m okay with that,” Marcus acknowledges, flopping down. Then, quieter: “I’ve always wanted to do that.”
“What, lick someone’s arsehole? Bloody nasty, Marcus.”
“No,” Marcus counters. He moves onto his side and holds Esca’s gaze, unblinking as he says lowly, “Be inside you. Fill you up with my come, then watch it leak out.”
“Jesus Christ,” Esca breathes, feeling himself colour up. “Shut up.” Even his ears feel hot. Who knew Marcus was a kinky motherfucker?
Marcus grins, wide and brilliant before leaning in for a thorough kiss. And when Esca tastes Marcus, in every sense of the word—all right, yeah. His dick gives a bit of a twitch. Maybe Marcus is onto something.
-----
They see Placidus off in the morning.
Beforehand, Esca warns Marcus to be on his best behaviour. But as they’re lined up outside the villa, Andrew keeping the car in neutral as Claudius Hiero climbs into the back, Esca doesn’t miss the way Marcus crushes Placidus’ hand in his grip, as if the black eye he gave him the night before wasn’t enough damage.
Uncle Aquila chuckles at the sight, for he may be a strange old man, but Esca suspects nothing actually gets past him.
“Might want to step in,” he suggests, jovially patting him on the back before disappearing back inside the villa. Esca looks over by the car; indeed, Placidus is trying to extricate his hand but Marcus won’t let him.
Esca sighs, walking over. “Marcus,” he says with a touch to the back of Marcus’ elbow. “That’s enough.”
Placidus shoots him a grateful look, especially when Marcus finally steps back. His eyes don’t waver, however; he’s still trying to set Placidus on fire with his glare.
Yet Lassie will always be Lassie. You give him an inch and he’ll take—well, he dances in and steals a kiss from Esca, right under Marcus’ flaring nose.
“I’ll always be your first,” he grins cheekily, before swinging himself into the backseat and slamming the door shut behind him.
“Tribune,” Marcus shouts angrily, loping after the car as it pulls out of the driveway. Esca laughs under his breath as he goes after him.
“Marcus,” he says, turning him around by the shoulder. “Marcus. Listen to me.”
“He’s a shitty, spineless little twerp—“
“Marcus.” Esca reaches up, holds his gaze. “Listen to me. You’re my first in anything that matters.” It’s the sappiest shite he’s ever said in his life before, so Esca follows it with a punch to Marcus’ chest.
Marcus grunts, but he’s smiling too so that’s good enough.
Back | Next
Characters: Marcus/Esca, Liathan, Cottia, Uncle Aquila, Placidus, etc.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: high school AU so the boys are 16/17
Word Count: 46k (7,200 this part)
Summary: Cottingswood High, Yorkshire. You get all kinds, but as someone who's bounced around Child Services, has a hot-headed chav for a best friend, and gets mistaken for a girl by the daft new student in History, Esca MacCunoval is not your ordinary kid.
PART SIX: Esca is a Shameless Slag When Intoxicated and Fairly Sure Placidus Has No Right Being That Hung
He bursts out of the gymnasium with a deep lungful of cold, dry air.
“Esca!”
Placidus catches up with him, swinging an arm over his shoulders. It’s bloody freezing out, yeah? So Esca buries his face into Placidus’ armpit and sticks his hands in Placidus’ coat pockets.
“Oh…hey.” A hand comes down over the back of Esca’s neck, fingers cold but the weight of them, nice. “You’re pretty plastered, aren’t you?”
“Ney,” Esca mumbles, except it comes out ‘aye’. He feels Placidus chuckle, the scratchy wool of his coat tickling Esca’s cheek. And when Esca opens his eyes, sometime later (or is it right away?), the long shadows they cast combine to make one four-legged monster that totters off to the car park.
-----
Esca falls back on his mattress, and it feels like the grandest thing in the world. For fuck’s sake, who knew his bed could feel so nice? And when did his body start to weigh twenty stone? He’s sinking through to the ground; his hands are paperweights, fisted in Placidus’ woollen lapels.
“Oof,” Placidus grunts, stumbling onto the bed as he braces himself over Esca. His knobby knees bracket Esca’s; his large hands splay by Esca’s ears.
“You’re in my bed,” Esca grins. His bed: the one place Placidus has been trying to get in all bloody week. Only something’s not right; now that Placidus is here, he looks less than victorious. In fact, he looks like he’s sucking a lemon.
“I don’t know if this is such a good idea,” Placidus says, his face gone all funny. It’s a new look on him. Placidus never looks anything but confident, or horny. Esca’s not even sure what this expression is—
“It’s concern, you jailbait lush.”
“Oh, so suddenly I’m too young for you?” Esca asks, hitching up to his elbows. “What happened to, oh, you’re legal or, oh, he got hisself drunk, or yeah, I’m a bloody perv and I fuck whatever moves?”
“I never said that.”
“The first parts, yeah, you did. And you were right. I am legal,” Esca breathes, reaching up to tug at Placidus’ lapel. “And I want you.”
At least, he wants Placidus to lie down on him. Cos Esca’s feeling bloody horny and dopey and fantastic, and his eyelids are heavy as sandbags and he wants nothing more in the world than for Placidus to bloody well do it, to just fuck him already, make him feel good the way he’s been promising all fucking week—
“Fuck, Esca,” Placidus pants. “Okay, okay. Jesus Christ, I’ll do it. Just stop talking.”
Esca feels Placidus buckle down to his elbows, springs shifting under them. He feels Placidus’ hand touch his face, leaving an electric wake as it drags down his cheek, down the side of his neck. Esca cranes his chin up, wanting more.
Fuck, Placidus says under his breath. Esca hears it though—eggs him on, saying yeah.
“Yeah,” Esca whinges, wrapping him arms around the back of Placidus’ neck and pulling him down. His mouth descends, and maybe Esca would be nervous about it—kissing, cos he hasn’t done much of it, doesn’t know what he’s doing—but it feels bloody good, warm and engulfing and naughty, much like the whisky thrumming through him.
They get on like that for awhile, snogging like drunk bastards at the end of the world. Placidus’ hand feels huge as it sneaks under Esca’s shirt and along his spine, all the way up between Esca’s shoulder blades. Placidus near lifts him with that hand alone, pressing insistently upwards until Esca gets the hint—pushes Placidus off to the side so he can rip off his leather jacket, yank his t-shirt over his head like it’s drowning him.
When they come together again, Placidus’ coat is nowhere to be found, and the plastic buttons of his shirt are cold against Esca’s chest, making his nipples pebble, or maybe that’s from the teasing way Placidus is flicking them with his thumbs.
“Gods, yeah,” Esca groans, arching into it like it’s supposed to feel incredible or summat; doesn’t really, his nips aren’t sensitive like a girl’s, but what does feel incredible is Placidus’ hands on his trousers-front, rubbing Esca’s hard-on through the denim as he sucks a bruise to the side of Esca’s neck.
“I told you,” Placidus says, once he’s come up for air. “I told you it’d be good. We could’ve been doing this all week.”
“Fuck you,” Esca bites, wriggling his hips to encourage what’s happening down there. Placidus finally stops teasing; he flips open the button and unzips Esca’s jeans. “Fuck me,” Esca gasps.
“Not yet,” Placidus says, but promises, “Later.”
The fuck me was metaphorical, but Esca doesn’t correct him. He’s a little distracted by the way Placidus is warming his fingers on Esca’s cock—oh God, there are hands are on Esca’s cock—and he’s a little embarrassed when a blurt of precum leaks out, but quickly turns exasperated when Placidus lifts his fingers to show him with a gleeful smile. Placidus pinches his forefinger and thumb together, revealing a sticky string of precum when they part.
“That was fast,” he taunts.
“S’not like I came,” Esca barks back. “Trust me, you’ll know when I’m coming. It’ll be all over your poncy face.”
“That so? I expect I’ll find out in about sixty seconds. Though it’d be impressive if you can shoot that far when I’m giving it to you from behind.”
Esca digs his nails into his palm, hard as he can, but he can’t even feel them so it’s no use—his cock twitches, dribbling another bit of precum onto his lower belly from where it’s peeking out of his briefs.
“That’s what I thought.”
“Fuck you,” Esca complains. “Shut up and do it then.”
Placidus makes a sound that’d be embarrassing for him if he weren’t such a shameless git. He’s off Esca in an instant, kneeled up and working open the front of his own trousers.
Esca’s face feels hot. He covers it with his hands—thinks better of it and relocates them inside his briefs, encircling the base of his dick and squeezing just this side of too hard.
Above him, Placidus still has all his clothes on, but now he’s hanging out of his trousers…
Oh.
Esca blinks, wondering if the liquor running through him’s playing tricks. But his eyes are fine; the sight remains.
The fact remains: Placidus is bloody well hung.
“It won’t fit,” Esca gapes.
“Hm?”
Fuck, get it together. “Nuffink.” Though it explains a lot. The confidence, namely. Placidus could prolly kill someone with that cock, split him in two. Or choke him to death. What a humiliating way to go. Death by cock.
“Are you okay?” Placidus asks doubtfully, stroking his dick (oh Jesus Christ, he ent even fully hard yet).
“I’m fine.” Esca says, digging his thumbs into his waistband and shimmying his jeans off his hips. Starts struggling when he gets to his knees, but these trousers, there’s a method to ‘em, see—Liathan might give him shit for his skinny jeans, but they’re comfortable, yeah—
“It’s kind of wrong how cute you are,” Placidus smirks, leaning down.
“I’ll end you,” Esca snarls, but the viciousness is tempered by the way Placidus has to help drag his jeans off, Esca’s legs in the air.
“Not before I take care of this.” All of a sudden, Placidus is kissing him again, and it’s much preferred to his talking so Esca kisses back with abandon.
Down below, he feels his cock—his rather unimpressive cock, comparatively—strains against Placidus’ palm. Placidus gently cups his balls, holding them out of the way as he pulls down Esca’s boxers just low enough for access.
He spits into his palm. Envelops Esca’s dick with it, slick and wet.
“Shit,” Esca curses, flinging his arm over his eyes as Placidus starts pumping him, his strokes long and earnest like he’s trying to draw water out of a dry well. Only Esca ent dry, not in any sense of the word, and it’s too much. He’s too horny—Placidus won’t stop—
“Lassie—”
“Oh my God, shut up,” Placidus says, putting his free hand on Esca’s bare thigh for leverage as he jacks him harder, faster. “If you call me that again I’m gonna stop.”
But he doesn’t, and so Esca comes, silently, eyes squinched shut, teeth bared in a grimace. His hips buck and Placidus has to hold him down as he continues working Esca’s cock, his thumb firm and hard against the belly of his dick like when Esca’s massaging out someone’s muscles. Except it’s his dick, and he just came and Placidus has got to—
“Stop, stop,” Esca gasps. “Oh my God stop, too much.” He shoves Placidus off with a square foot to the chest. “Stop.”
Placidus tumbles back, rear end perched on his heels as he devours Esca with his eyes. He licks his fingers, which—Esca would blush if he weren’t overheated already—are covered in Esca’s spunk.
“Ninety seconds.”
“What?”
“How long it took for me to get you off.”
“Shut up, will you?” Esca says, but he’s too wrung out to make a proper stink about it.
“Not unless you help me with this,” Placidus says, crawling forward again until he’s eye-level with Esca…
At which point, Placidus sends a meaningful look between his legs.
A quick glance makes Esca’s heart race again. Placidus is hanging down, completely erect. His cock is wider around the middle, with a flared, mushroom head gone slightly purple.
The image is a bit terrifying. But it’s hot, too. Mostly hot. Esca wets his lips. Placidus kisses him with a loud smack.
“Flip over,” Placidus says, pushing at Esca’s side to help him roll onto his belly, which—ew, that’s a lot of cold, sticky come he just got all over his blanket. Whatever; he’ll just add it to the laundry tomorrow—
Placidus spanks him with a loud, crystal clear crack.
“Ow!” Esca yelps, shooting an affronted stare over his shoulder at Placidus, who looks entirely too happy with himself. “The fuck you do that for, eh? I ent into that shit, not gonna call you daddy, you fucking perv.”
“Shame,” Placidus grins. “That would be hot. But mostly I just couldn’t help myself. Your cute little butt was right there.” He pulls on the elastic of Esca’s pushed-down boxers, letting it snap right against the crease of his ass.
“Fuck’s sake, just get on with it,” Esca groans, letting his head drop between his shoulders.
He can’t see Placidus no more, but he sure as hell can feel him. Well, his dick, to be precise.
With one hand rubbing Esca’s arse—right where it still tingles from the spank—Esca can feel something wet smear between his cheeks, which involuntarily clench.
Trepidation tastes like salt in his mouth, and Esca closes his eyes, willing himself not to be such a fucking pussy about this.
“Hey,” Placidus says, still dragging his dick up and down. “Relax. I’m not actually going to fuck you, you know.”
Esca opens his eyes. “You’re not?”
“God, no. I want you to actually like this, okay?” Placidus tightens his hand, the one on Esca’s arse, and pulls it aside, letting cool air breeze over his damp cleft. Esca feels something blunt and wet press in, right where his asshole is. “Though I won’t lie, you’d feel so, fucking amazing.”
Esca’s heart is in his throat. If Placidus just pushed—just a little bit hard, hard enough to get that thing inside him—he’d be inside him, holy Jesus fucking Christ. The pressure is still there, Placidus circling his dick in tiny, little ministrations, like he’s worming himself in.
Shit. Esca’s not scared—he’ll let him, yeah? But Placidus is—s‘just that he’s fucking big—
A high-pitched noise escapes from Esca’s throat, surprising and embarrassing. “Sorry,” he says automatically, trying to calm himself down.
“Fuck, you’re so.” Placidus breathes in through his teeth, and Esca feels his dick slip so that he’s pointed up instead of in. “I wish we had more time. Another week, or something.”
He can’t think of anything to say back to that, so Esca moves his arms up and pillows his head in them, concentrating on the feeling of Placidus rutting against his arse. Now that the imminent threat of penetration has passed, he feels himself relax.
Loose-limbed and pleasantly drowsy from coming, Esca closes his eyes, arching his back a little for Placidus to get a better angle. Both hands are on his ass cheeks now, Placidus pushing them around his dick. He’s dry humping, Esca’s skin going a bit tender from all the chafing, but it seems to suit Placidus fine who’s worked himself into an unusual stretch of silence, but for the heavy breathing and periodic fucks and Gods which make Esca grin with self-satisfaction.
A cool drip of precum touches the plane of Esca’s lower back, drizzling down from Placidus’ frenzied rocking. It won’t be long now.
“Esca,” Placidus groans, leaning his forehead against the back of Esca’s neck. It’s damp, and Placidus’ hair tickles. The drape of his shirt, forgotten until now, is cool with sweat against Esca’s back.
He wants it off—wants to get him off—and so Esca forces his arse into the air, giving Placidus something hard to rub against. It works like a charm, and before long, Placidus is biting Esca’s shoulder, muffling a whinge as he paints Esca’s lower back with warm stripes of come.
“Oh fuck,” Placidus groans mindlessly, which makes Esca flush with pride. He grinds back against Placidus’ still-jerking hips—
The door his to bedroom slams open, doorknob meeting plaster wall with a bone-rattling thwack as Esca startles. Whips his head around to see Marcus looming large in the doorway, his face stormy as he begins to stomp over.
“Hey—“ Placidus protests, but then Marcus hauls him off Esca’s back and smashes a fist into his face, effectively shutting him up.
“Shit,” Esca says, clambering up as he yanks his skivvies back over his arse, eyes huge when the boys tumble off the bed and onto the ground. “Marcus, stop.”
Maybe he didn’t hear, couldn’t hear—not over the sound of their messy brawling on the carpet—but Marcus ignores him. Still toffed up in his three-piece suit and shiny leather shoes, he makes an odd picture lurching astride Placidus’ thrashing body.
”Marcus!” Esca shouts, leaping over to help Placidus, who hasn’t got a chance. “Jesus Christ, he wasn’t—it wasn’t how it looked,” he pleads, pulling at Marcus’ shoulder. But Marcus is twice his size, and he ent budging. He’s frightening like this; far from bloodthirsty, Marcus looks focused and in control, only the maniacal glint in his eyes betraying any hint that he’s pounding Placidus into cornmeal.
“He was forcing you,” Marcus growls, followed by another blunt sound, fist against muscle.
“For fuck’s sake, I wanted it, Marcus!” Esca blurts, as he finally manages to pry him off. Slams Marcus against the dresser, mirror rattling against the wall above them.
Marcus glares, fierce and out of breath. Esca twists around and hisses to Placidus.
“Get out of here.”
The man hardly needs to be told twice. Placidus gets up and backs out of Esca’s door, tucking himself back in his trousers with an apologetic look in his eyes. Marcus bucks beneath Esca like he wants to go after him, but the curt backhand across the face keeps Marcus still.
”Stop it,” Esca commands, putting as much authority into his voice as he can. In the corridor, Placidus’ footsteps hurriedly fade as Marcus comes back to him, green eyes familiar once more as they warily blink at Esca.
“I don’t get it,” Marcus says, his voice punched out and strained. When his eyes trail down Esca’s body, he remembers he’s wearing nuffink but his skivvies and he’s covered in come. It pulls at his skin, tacky on his belly, his lower back. God, if he had a rock to crawl under right now.
“I—“ Marcus tries again. “I thought you were straight,” he says helplessly.
“I am,” Esca says on reflex. But shit, he’s being unclear—realizes that when Marcus’ face sharpens in anger once more. “I mean…sort of. I like birds. But sometimes I like blokes too. I suppose…all I really give a toss about is sex, like. If I’m having it or not.”
“Sex,” Marcus says dumbly. “And it doesn’t matter who with. You’ll do it with—fuck, you’ll have sex with Placidus—“ Marcus stops himself, staring down as his ears start to go pink.
Esca suddenly notices where they are, sprawled on the carpet gap between Esca’s wooden dresser and bed. Esca in Marcus’ lap like a sodding dancer at a strip club, knuckles clenched tight in the fabric of Marcus’ expensive jacket.
Under him, Marcus is tense. Vibrating, almost. Fuck, what if…what if he’s not okay with Esca tossing off with other blokes? Italians can be bloody conservative sometimes, can’t they? For fuck’s sake.
“Look, I’m sorry if you’re—“
Marcus surges forward, bashing their noses together.
“Ow,“ Esca yelps, only to to have the noise swallowed by Marcus’ mouth.
A warm palm comes up to cradle the back of Esca’s head, and Marcus angles himself better, moving his lips so that they’re—oh Christ, what are they doing? They’re—
Jesus, they’re kissing.
Marcus is kissing him.
Being drunk can’t make you hallucinate, can it?
“Mrrkss,” Esca mumbles, staring at Marcus’ face even though he’s too close and it makes his eyes cross. “Mrrks, st’pp.”
Marcus bumps his head against Esca’s dresser in his haste to pull back. “Shit,” he says breathlessly. “Sorry.”
Esca presses the back of his wrist against his lips, which are warm and wet. He asks Marcus with his eyes: Wot the fuck?
Marcus turns cagey, gaze skittering over everything but Esca. It’s futile, though—Esca can always get what he wants out of Marcus just by staring, and right now, even more than wanting another kiss? Esca wants an explanation. Fuck, he needs one.
Like clockwork, Marcus peers up at Esca through dark lashes.
“And you call me the moron?” Marcus picks up, like they’ve been talking all this while. He pairs his words with a self-deprecating smile. Esca’s heart thumps.
Is he saying what Esca thinks he’s saying?
Feeling impulsive—or perhaps just drunk—Esca closes his eyes and leans in, pushing his mouth against Marcus’. Momentum knocks Marcus’ head against the dresser once more, but he’s kissing back, holy fuck.
It’s everything Esca imagined. Marcus’ mouth is plush and sensuous—sure in the way he moves, deliberately kissing Esca’s upper lip, then the lower, before delving in wholeheartedly. Esca moans, winding his arms around Marcus’ neck to anchor himself lest he lose himself completely, and when Marcus palms Esca’s waist and yanks him even closer—Esca’s nipples chafing against the fabric of Marcus’ suit—a hardness nudges up against Esca’s belly. When he realizes it ent his own erection, but Marcus’, he nearly blacks out.
Esca breaks away, panting. “Fuck, Marcus. I want it. I want you. For weeks. Fucking do me, already.”
“Esca,” Marcus says hoarsely. Esca could get used to the sound of his name like that, syllables dragged over a grater.
Esca rolls his hips and attacks the side of Marcus’ neck, sucking hard right over the spot Cottia had marked with lipstick. It tastes faintly like grease, a little salty. It’s not bad, and Esca laves the spot with his tongue until it just tastes like spit. Marcus rocks up beneath him and Esca rides the swell, ecstatic.
“Yeah,” Esca sighs, burrowing his face into the crook of his own shoulder, arms still tight around Marcus’ neck. He’s tingling all over, skin buzzing with the pleasant numbness of too much whisky but still he can feel Marcus’ hands roaming everywhere. They sweep down Esca’s shoulder blades and palm the sides of his ribs. His hands are huge; Marcus could crack him open, just like that.
“Fuck, Marcus.”
In response, Marcus shoves his nose under Esca’s ear and sucks a tight, hard hickey over his jumping pulse. It stings, quick and sharp, making Esca squirm in Marcus’ lap.
Marcus groans, the rawness of it making Esca’s head spin. Suddenly, all he can feel is Marcus’ cock through his trousers—a thick, heavy presence against Esca’s front, counterpoint to the gentle hands trailing down Esca’s spine.
“Marcus,” Esca gasps. “I want—for fuck’s sake, Marcus. I want you—“
Marcus’ hands freeze, just the tips of his fingertips touching Esca’s lower back. “Don’t stop,” Esca whines, out of his mind. “Fucking hell, Marcus. Don’t fucking stop.”
“This. This is a bad idea,” Marcus stutters suddenly, pushing Esca off his lap.
Esca’s skinny shoulders collide with the side of his bed, jolting him. Fuck, he’d thought—Marcus was kissing him back, wasn’t he?
“What is it?” Esca eventually asks, heart in his throat. Horror creeps into the pit of his stomach, empty and snatching.
Marcus climbs to his feet, palming the corner of Esca’s dresser to stand at full height. His dick is still hard, tenting out from dark grey trousers.
“I don’t understand,” Esca says, when the silence becomes unbearable. Marcus is no help; he simply looks at him, uncertain, like Esca’s the one who stopped a good thing, yeah?
Esca snags his shirt from where it’s lying in a crumpled ball on the floor and clambers to his feet, pulling it on. The room lurches and Esca stumbles back, relieved when the mattress catches his arse instead of the fucking ground, cos that’d be right bloody embarrassing. He reclines on his hands, shoulders jammed up against his ears as he sends Marcus a baleful look.
“I won’t tell anyone your dirty secret, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he accuses.
“Fuck, Esca,” Marcus says heavily, scrubbing his forehead with the back of his hand. “That’s not it. I…I want this. But it’s just—fuck, you’re covered in, you know.” Marcus touches his forefinger to his thumb a few times, and Esca can see his sticky fingers. He can feel how his back is painted up and down with Placidus’ come, gluing his t-shirt to his skin. “And you’re drunk. You are so drunk.”
“No, I’m not,” Esca counters, but the point’s lost when his hand slips out from under him and he jerks to stay upright.
A warm look enters Marcus’ eyes—amused and fond, if disappointed.
Esca glares at him. “Well, I’m not gonna beg for it, yeah? So get out if you’re gonna go.”
Marcus’ eyes sharpen with something unnameable. He comes back across the room, Esca’s heart lurching with hope when Marcus bends down to place a soft, deliberate kiss on his lips. But that’s all he gets, even when Esca reaches up and tugs on Marcus’ jacket lapels, anchoring him in place.
“Esca,” Marcus chides quietly, lips moving against his before pulling back. Leans his forehead against Esca’s, who tries to chase another kiss. But Marcus shakes his head.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” he murmurs.
“You can see me now,” Esca insists, cos Marcus’ proximity is making him dumb and needy and fuck, he wants.
“Not sure I want to,” Marcus teases. “You smell pretty ripe. And I have standards to keep up.”
Esca snorts. “Whatever, I’ll just call Lassie back in ‘ere.”
Marcus tenses immediately, then tackles Esca with a possessive, thorough kiss that pushes them both horizontal. Esca’s eyes flutter shut, making a note to himself to bring up Placidus more often. Behind his eyelids, the ceiling spins and he ent sure if it’s from the booze or lack of oxygen.
Marcus travels down Esca’s jaw, nipping at his chin before burying his face against his neck to growl, “You’re lucky I don’t kill that fucker.” And shit, that shouldn’t be hot. Murderous intent should never be hot, but Jesus fucking Christ it is.
“I was taking the piss,” Esca says weakly as Marcus ravages his neck, the high slope of his shoulder. It’s gonna be fucking mess tomorrow, and Esca’s so bloody turned on at the idea.
“But if you want to make sure, you should stay,” Esca says, humping up against Marcus’ erection. “Fucking hell, Marcus. Just bloody stay.”
It gets the opposite reaction he wants. Esca can feel his face fall when Marcus extricates himself, getting off the bed and dusting off his thighs.
“Lord knows I want to,” Marcus says ruefully. “But you need to sleep on it. I’ll be here in the morning.”
“Ugh,” Esca complains, covering his face with his hands. “I’m offering you sex. You’re bloody mental not to want sex.”
When Esca peeks through his fingers, he sees Marcus letting himself out the door.
“It’s not just sex,” he says, so quiet Esca almost misses it. Then he shuts the door behind himself.
Esca slowly draws his hands away, settling them at his sides. He can feel his face warm as a strange mix of panic, disbelief, and elation fight for dominance inside him.
Through their shared wall, Esca can hear the muffled noises of Marcus readying for bed. It’s familiar; comforting. Enough so that eventually Esca rolls onto his side, facing Marcus’ room, and simply listens.
The long day catches up to him then, an anvil sinking on Esca’s shoulders. He drops into the heavy, dosed slumber of the well and truly exhausted.
-----
Esca wakes. It’s early, he can feel it. He feels like shit, his brain throbbing behind his eyeballs. He’s really fucking thirsty.
When he curls up to a sitting position, his shirt stays plastered to his back like a second skin. Oh yeah—that. That’s really fucking gross.
Esca mashes his eyes with the heels of his hands in efforts to rouse himself, then swings his legs out of bed and steals away into the dark, silent corridor in the direction of the bathroom.
A long shower always feels amazing when he’s hung over, and as Esca stands under the spray—water turned just this side of too hot—he feels himself slowly return to the land of the living.
The night’s events float back to him like a dream. Fuck, he’d been so…so shameless with both Placidus and Marcus, and while Esca refuses to regret any of it he’s still embarrassed enough about the whole thing he could drown himself in the shower.
But then he wouldn’t get to see Marcus.
Jesus. Marcus.
Esca shuts off the tap with a metallic squeal.
Toweling his hair dry, it doesn’t cross Esca’s mind not to go where his feet lead him next. He swings the damp cloth around his hips and holds it there as he bypasses his bedroom door and lets himself straight into Marcus’ room.
Eyes adjusting, the streetlight that filters in between the blinds is enough for Esca to make out Marcus’ sleeping form beneath the covers. Esca navigates errant trainers and textbooks, whispering, “Marcus.”
He hitches the towel up on his hips as he approaches the bed. No reaction, which is expected. A cursory glance at the digital clock reveals it’s only five in the morning.
He shouldn’t be here.
But the air is cold against his damp, drying skin, and that’s all the reason Esca needs to pull back a corner of Marcus’ sheets and slide inside.
Marcus snuffles, recoiling instinctively from the chill Esca brings in. In contrast, Marcus feels hot, like pavement baked in the sun. Doesn’t seem fair for him to hoard it all.
“Cold,” Esca mumbles, curling himself into a ball and shoving his feet beneath Marcus’ thigh.
Marcus freezes, but he doesn’t move away. “Esca?” he asks, sounding confused.
“Yeah,” he replies, too drowsy to add more. Just burrows against Marcus’ sleep-warm body, enjoying the scent of Lenor dryer sheets that greets his nose. He’s glad he sneaks extra fabric softener in Marcus’ laundry, now. His clothes feel so nice.
“What are you doing?” Marcus asks, and the arm he slips around Esca seems like an unconscious move.
“You said sleep on it. So I slept on it,” Esca explains. “You can’t say no, now.”
Marcus shifts up on one elbow and blinks at Esca. “What time is it?”
Time to kiss. Time to fuck.
For fuck’s sake, time for them to fucking do it already.
Esca reaches beneath the covers and shoves the towel off his hips.
“Esca?” Marcus says, sounding choked. Maybe it’s cos Esca’s wormed his way into Marcus’ arms, naked as a babe, and started mouthing at the base of his throat.
“Shu’up,” Esc murmurs, licking.
“Hold on—“
“Seriously, Marcus.” Esca runs the edge of his teeth across Marcus’ collarbone, displeased when he tastes cotton t-shirt. He asks, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice, “Can’t we have this yet?”
Marcus freezes, fingers light on Esca’s bare arms. Esca’s heart is somewhere near his throat. Fuck, he thought he’d learned to stop putting himself in this position, vulnerable and open. It’s a horrible feeling, like free-falling. He’s allowing Marcus everything.
Just when he thinks he’s made a horrible mistake, Marcus drags Esca back against his chest and kisses his face. Not sure where he was aiming—it’s five in the bloody morning, in his defence. But it feels amazing anyway.
“Yeah,” Marcus says in his ear, rough like sandpaper. “Okay.”
Esca’s eyes flutter shut, and he’s given over to the feeling of Marcus’ hands tightening on his biceps. It’s short warning before Marcus nudges Esca’s face with his own, tipping them up so that their mouths align. Marcus tastes like morning breath, but Esca could give a flying fuck. Just licks his way inside, possessive.
It’s all instinct from there on. What feels right. Like a heat-seeking missile, Esca chases with increasing focus. He’s waking up, body electric with every low-rumbling groan Marcus makes. He’s shutting down, Esca’s brain retreating like the tide.
It’s nothing like with Placidus. Feels nice like before, but he’s here this time. This is Esca MacCunoval, hard and aching against Marcus’ thigh. This is Marcus Aquila, nudging Esca off just enough to yank his shirt over his head, to kick his boxers off his feet.
“Come here,” Marcus says, and now they’re skin-against-skin. Everything feels heightened: the burn of Marcus’ short stubble. The coarse hair on his legs, the smoothness of Marcus’ torso, which Esca keeps running his hands over, greedy-like.
They’re both turned on as Esca sucks on every bit of Marcus he finds, whether it’s his neck or each of his dark nipples. All the while, Esca lazily thrusts, pleased at the silky slide of their cocks rubbing together.
“Esca,” Marcus gasps, alerting him to the fact Esca’s beginning to leak. He might be embarrassed, but then Marcus roughly grabs his arse and grinds their hips together, so.
“Fuck,” Esca swears, humping back like a madman. “Fuck’s sake, you can’t just—“
“Can’t what?” Marcus smiles, licking his thumb all innocent like he’s just catching ice cream. Then he reaches down and smears the tip of Esca’s dick, slick with precum.
“Jesus—“ Esca squeezes his eyes shut and breathes noisily through his mouth. “You fucker.”
“Yeah?” Marcus asks huskily. “You want that?”
“Want what?” Esca’s mindless. He doesn’t know what Marcus is on about.
He rolls Esca over like he weighs nuffink. Esca would protest or summat, but then Marcus is blanketing him, heavy and warm like the sun.
His lips brush up against Esca’s ear, and it almost tickles, makes him shudder.
“You want me to fuck you?”
Jesus Christ. Esca blinks a bit, not sure he’s heard right. But Marcus is looking back with an entirely serious expression.
It’s not like he hasn’t thought about it. Or fingered himself while tossing off before. Cos he has.
(A lot.)
The thought of Marcus—beautiful, earnest, and bloody daft-as-fuck Marcus—fucking him? Hard and unforgiving, the way Esca knows Marcus can be when he thinks someone can take it?
“Esca?” Marcus asks, and his voice is less confident.
“Aye,” Esca quickly says, reaching up and holding Marcus at the back of his neck. Makes sure those green eyes are locked on his, cos he wants Marcus to have no doubts, none. “I want it.”
He doesn’t necessarily mean right that second, but quick as you please Marcus ducks underneath the twisted-up coverlet. Esca’s got to rely on touch to know what Marcus is doing down there, but—Jesus fuck—with a warm grip wrapped around his shaft and the wet, insistent rub against the head of his dick, it’s pretty obvious.
Wishes he could see it, Marcus’ full lips going down on him. He could compare it to his fantasies then, although his fantasies never quite covered how much suction Marcus would use, like he’s trying to hoover Esca down his throat. Or how much Marcus would drool, Esca’s balls getting wet.
“Marcus,” Esca says, panic alighting when he realizes how he’s close already. Fuck, it hasn’t even been five minutes yet.
Esca drops his arm over his eyes and starts twisting his hips, trying to shake Marcus off. Instead, Marcus just makes a muffled, choked sound and rubs at Esca’s perineum, which is slippery with spit and precum.
“Fuck—“
Marcus pushes a finger into Esca’s arse, blunt and dry. It feels weird, and it’s enough to stave Esca from orgasm.
“God, Marcus,” Esca says, biting his lower lip. “A little warning?”
Marcus pulls off Esca’s dick with an obscene sort of slurp, then shoves the covers off so that his bed-head comes into view.
Marcus’ cheeks are red, and his lips—fuck. Esca has to close his eyes at the sight.
“Sorry,” Marcus says, but clearly he’s not cos he’s trying to worm a second finger in.
“For fuck’s sake,” Esca grumps, reaching down to tug at Marcus’ hand—wincing at the sensation of his finger exiting, cos that’s seriously weird—and holds up Marcus’ hand eye-level.
Esca sucks two of Marcus’ clean fingers into his mouth, the middle and ring. Wets them nice and proper, like when he’s doing it to himself.
“Fuck. You look.” Marcus licks his lower lip, which is plump and red. “Um.”
Esca smiles around Marcus’ fingers, then pulls off with a slick pop. “Try again.”
Marcus grins back, then gets back down between Esca’s legs with a quick kiss to the inside of one thigh. “Tell me if it hurts,” he says, and Esca just kicks him with his heel like he’s spurring a horse on.
It’s better now, lubed with spit. Marcus adds more, licking around Esca’s hole which—hm, unexpectedly hot. One finger becomes two becomes wriggling, twisting, then slow, confident pumping.
This is better. This Esca can get used to. He shuts his eyes and tries to relax, lets himself imagine it’s Marcus’ dick going in and out of him. Force of habit. Then he remembers that it actually can be Marcus’ dick, and that starts him off anew.
“Come on,” Esca gasps, hips thrusting down against Marcus’ fingers. “Enough already. Fuck me. Don’t make me wait any longer.”
It’s all the urging Marcus needs. As soon as Esca feels Marcus withdraw, he flips over and presents his backside, pulling his cheeks apart like Marcus doesn’t know where his arsehole is. Just in case, yeah?
“Jesus Christ, Esca,” Marcus bites out, sounding wrecked. It makes Esca smiles into the pillow, giving him enough mirth not to panic when something nudges up against his hole. Feels like Marcus’ fingers, but bigger.
Wait. Shouldn’t there be like…condoms, or summat?
“Did you and Placidus…” Marcus asks tightly. “Were you safe?”
Esca looks over his shoulder, his eyes wide. “We didn’t,” he starts. Licks his lips. “Not that, I swear.”
The pinched look starts to leave Marcus’ face, and he sighs, visibly relaxing. “I’ve never, um. So I’m clean.”
Esca feels his heart thud. He can hear how thick his voice is when he responds, “Me too.”
The look Marcus gives him is too much. Hopeful, happy, and—God, he can’t even think it. Safe to say nobody looks at Esca this way.
Esca turns back around and buries his face in his arms. “Come on, Marcus. You trying to give me blue balls, here?”
Esca hears Marcus spit, and then his dick is back where it’s supposed to be. But better because he’s pushing and Jesus fuck, Esca knew Marcus was big but he feels fucking massive, like, not-physically-possible amounts of huge.
“God, you’re—“ Marcus chokes out. “Are you sure—“
“Yeah.” Esca cants his hips in encouragement, feeling the head of Marcus’ dick ease in. Hardest part over, right? “Yeah, come on. Keep going.”
Unfortunately, it just gets harder. Esca feels his erection flag the deeper Marcus goes, cos—all right, he’ll be honest, it’s still too dry and bloody well feels like Marcus is cleaving him in half with his cock.
Yet even more than wanting the pain to stop, Esca wants to give this to Marcus. He wants to make this work. And so he’s relieved that Marcus can’t see how Esca’s going soft and won’t know he’s half-faking when Esca pants heavily and moves backwards, getting more—Jesus, there’s more?—of Marcus inside.
“Oh my God,” Marcus breathes, sounding incredulous. He huffs a little laugh. Esca hopes he hasn’t lost his marbles, but if so at least it’ll be cos Esca’s such a great lay. Totally worth it.
“This isn’t, um.” Marcus shoves that last bit inside, and Esca’s never been more glad to feel someone else’s balls swing against his own. Fuck. He’s so full he can barely breathe. Sounding like he’s having trouble as well, Marcus warns, “Isn’t going to last long.”
“Then come,” Esca begs. He squeezes his arse and rocks back and forth. It doesn’t really move Marcus’ cock in and out or nuffink, cos he’s bloody well plugged tight. What it does do, however, is make Marcus drop his forehead—a bit damp, his hair still soft—between Esca’s shoulder blades and come with a stuttering gasp.
Esca hides his face in his arms, feeling content, too happy to dare show it to the world. Marcus’ hips jerk against Esca’s arse, and his cock feels wetter inside of him, starting to drag in and out like it’s been greased.
He hits a spot—Jesus Christ, Esca shouts a bit from surprise. Holy shit, is that…is this why poufs like to fuck each other in the arse? He knew it was supposed to be good both ways, but wasn’t entirely sure that wasn’t a made-up story so gay blokes could still fuck each other.
“Oh God,” Marcus groans, sounding shattered. He’s draped all over Esca like dead weight, and Esca wants to pout a bit cos now, when it’s finally getting good? Marcus is out for the count.
Esca elbows Marcus off of him, making a face when his cock slips out. It drags come with it, Marcus’ dick sliding over the backs of Esca’s balls as Marcus pulls back, away from view.
“God,” Marcus repeats from behind, like it’s the only word he remembers how to say. Esca’s legs are starting to vibrate from having been up so long, but when he starts to buckle Marcus is there in an instant, big hands holding him up by the arse and thumbing his cheeks apart, like a gentleman.
“Oi,” Esca says, trying to send a glare backwards but Marcus avoids the look by dipping down and—holy shit—sticking his tongue inside Esca’s arse.
Esca struggles to speak but succeeds only in making shocked noises that do nothing to cover the lewd sounds Marcus makes as he eats him out. The flat of Marcus’ tongue drags over Esca’s hole over and over again, his lips wrapping around Esca’s balls one at a time to clean them of come.
It’s too much. The thought of Marcus doing…what he’s doing. Esca ent some hardcore porno star, yeah? Jesus Christ he’s only a teenaged bloke.
“Shit,” Esca swears, then comes. He ent even touching himself, wouldn’t know he’d finished but for the liquid skimming across his lower belly. And when he collapses onto the bed, the covers are soaking wet.
Ears roaring, Esca needs a moment to come down from his high. But when he does, Marcus is there, next to him with a triumphant look on his face as he wipes his chin with the back of his hand. He looks like a moron.
“You look like a moron,” Esca mumbles.
“I’m okay with that,” Marcus acknowledges, flopping down. Then, quieter: “I’ve always wanted to do that.”
“What, lick someone’s arsehole? Bloody nasty, Marcus.”
“No,” Marcus counters. He moves onto his side and holds Esca’s gaze, unblinking as he says lowly, “Be inside you. Fill you up with my come, then watch it leak out.”
“Jesus Christ,” Esca breathes, feeling himself colour up. “Shut up.” Even his ears feel hot. Who knew Marcus was a kinky motherfucker?
Marcus grins, wide and brilliant before leaning in for a thorough kiss. And when Esca tastes Marcus, in every sense of the word—all right, yeah. His dick gives a bit of a twitch. Maybe Marcus is onto something.
-----
They see Placidus off in the morning.
Beforehand, Esca warns Marcus to be on his best behaviour. But as they’re lined up outside the villa, Andrew keeping the car in neutral as Claudius Hiero climbs into the back, Esca doesn’t miss the way Marcus crushes Placidus’ hand in his grip, as if the black eye he gave him the night before wasn’t enough damage.
Uncle Aquila chuckles at the sight, for he may be a strange old man, but Esca suspects nothing actually gets past him.
“Might want to step in,” he suggests, jovially patting him on the back before disappearing back inside the villa. Esca looks over by the car; indeed, Placidus is trying to extricate his hand but Marcus won’t let him.
Esca sighs, walking over. “Marcus,” he says with a touch to the back of Marcus’ elbow. “That’s enough.”
Placidus shoots him a grateful look, especially when Marcus finally steps back. His eyes don’t waver, however; he’s still trying to set Placidus on fire with his glare.
Yet Lassie will always be Lassie. You give him an inch and he’ll take—well, he dances in and steals a kiss from Esca, right under Marcus’ flaring nose.
“I’ll always be your first,” he grins cheekily, before swinging himself into the backseat and slamming the door shut behind him.
“Tribune,” Marcus shouts angrily, loping after the car as it pulls out of the driveway. Esca laughs under his breath as he goes after him.
“Marcus,” he says, turning him around by the shoulder. “Marcus. Listen to me.”
“He’s a shitty, spineless little twerp—“
“Marcus.” Esca reaches up, holds his gaze. “Listen to me. You’re my first in anything that matters.” It’s the sappiest shite he’s ever said in his life before, so Esca follows it with a punch to Marcus’ chest.
Marcus grunts, but he’s smiling too so that’s good enough.
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