Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/195107.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      The_Brotherhood_2:_Young_Warlocks_(2001)
  Relationship:
      Harlan_Ratcliff/Marcus_Ratner
  Series:
      Part 2 of Aftermath
  Stats:
      Published: 2011-05-05 Words: 2310
****** Cumbersome ******
by carolinecrane
Summary
     Harlan and Marcus have some unfinished business.
There were a lot of things about After that changed. John really did transfer
to a new school, and Mary was gone too so she either followed John or talked
her parents into sending her somewhere else. Matt was still around, Harlan too
even though his two best friends were dead and if anybody had a reason to
leave, it was him. He didn't strut around campus the way he used to, though,
and for once things were almost…okay.
It wasn't perfect, but if he'd learned one thing from Luc, it was that he
didn't need to be afraid of everything. He wasn't scared of Harlan anymore,
didn't care so much what people thought of him or how popular he was. School
was still lame, but he didn't worry about what was going to happen if he went
out running by himself or lingered too long in the locker rooms after gym. And
he didn't miss Luc – he'd never been the one Luc wanted anyway – but he was
grateful for what Luc had given him.
Luc had tried to convince them that they couldn't have power without him, that
they needed him to be strong and popular and have everything they wanted. He
was wrong, though, because Luc was gone and so was John and Marcus still felt
it, way down inside. He could still feel Alex's blood on his hands, and even
after the magic was gone along with Luc, he still remembered how powerful that
made him feel.
He wondered sometimes if Matt could feel it too, but that was something they
didn't talk about. Matt never mentioned killing the headmistress, never talked
about John or Luc or anything that happened when they were around. It was like
he just wanted to forget, to pretend it never happened and go back to running
his stupid betting pools and pissing off his parents as much as possible.
Which left Marcus pretty much on his own, because he couldn't be around Matt
without wanting to say something. He didn't really mind, though, because
looking out for himself was just another step toward becoming invincible. He
didn't need his friends, and as long as he didn't need anybody nothing could
touch him.
So he didn't really have friends anymore, and that was why no one noticed when
he broke off from his class as they followed their teacher through the art
museum, pretending to listen every time she stopped to explain the technique
the artist used in each painting. He didn't care about this stuff – none of
them did, but he was the only one with enough balls to bail and find something
better to do.
Like ducking into the first dark hallway he found, pressing himself into the
shallow recess left by a door that probably led to a storage room. He dug his
cigarettes out of his uniform pocket and tapped one out of the pack, closing
his lips around it and replacing his pack in his pocket before he fished out
his lighter. When it was lit he took a long drag and leaned his head back
against the door, letting his eyes fall closed.
"If anybody catches you you're gonna get yourself thrown out of here."
Marcus congratulated himself on not flinching at the sound of the voice,
exhaling a white cloud of smoke before he opened his eyes to find Harlan
Ratliff watching him. He hadn't noticed Harlan following him – a point against
him, but he wasn't scared to find himself alone with Harlan and that was what
counted. A few months ago he would have been terrified; he still remembered the
way Harlan's hands had felt on his back, on his ass when Harlan knelt behind
him and threatened him with the marker. A fucking marker, and Marcus laughed
now to remember how scared he'd been.
"Promises, promises," he muttered, flashing a lopsided grin at Harlan and
leaning back against the door. "What do you want?"
Harlan shrugged and leaned against the opposite wall, eyeing Marcus' cigarette
as he lifted it to his mouth and took another drag. "You know those things'll
kill you."
"Thanks for the advice." Marcus dropped the cigarette on the carpet and ground
it out with his heel, but he didn't push himself off the wall. He wasn't in any
hurry to get back to the art history lecture, and Harlan didn't look like he
was either. "But I'm pretty sure you didn't follow me just because you're
worried about my health. And I don't see any new bodyguards trailing you these
days, so…"
For a second Harlan just looked at him, but Marcus couldn't tell if the jab
about Alex and Randal stung. As far as he could tell Harlan had never really
been broken up about losing either of his friends – nothing seemed to phase
him, really, and in spite of himself Marcus couldn't help admiring Harlan for
being so cool about everything. "Like I couldn't take you if I wanted."
"Yeah, but you like an audience," Marcus reminded him, smiling his sweetest
smile. "Like that time in the locker room…did you get off on that, Harlan? Is
that why the big man on campus never has a girlfriend? Because I have to admit,
seeing you on your knees like that…well, let's just say you looked pretty
comfortable."
Harlan laughed, but the sound was a little shaky and Marcus smiled in the
darkness. "Please, you were shaking so hard I thought you were gonna cry."
"That was the old me," Marcus said, a hard edge creeping into his voice. His
fingers twitched with the need for something to do, and he wished suddenly that
he hadn't tossed his cigarette. "I'm not afraid of you."
"You sure about that?" Harlan asked, pushing himself off the wall and taking a
few steps forward. Before Marcus could react Harlan was leaning in, close
enough that Marcus could feel his body heat radiating off him.
He knew Harlan was expecting fear, expecting Marcus to back down or maybe start
crying. They'd done this before, after all, and even though Randal and Alex
weren't here to hold him still anymore Harlan was a lot bigger than he was. It
didn't scare him, though – it should, he knew that much, but the thought of all
that hard muscle pressed up against him just made him want to push harder just
to make Harlan push back.
"Positive," Marcus answered, the corners of his mouth twitching into a grin.
"Alex never stood a chance against me. I cut his throat, you know. It was easy
– he just stood there and let me do it. He didn't even put up a fight."
"You're crazy," Harlan said, and it was obvious he didn't believe Marcus. Even
in the darkness Marcus could see the hint of doubt in his eyes, though – Alex's
throat had been slit, after all, and even though he could have read it in the
paper he could tell there was enough doubt to make Harlan wonder.
"That explains what I'm doing here. What's your excuse?"
It wasn't like he'd never wondered about Harlan. He never did have a
girlfriend, after all, and okay, maybe Harlan on his knees in the locker room
had fueled a few of Marcus' more demented fantasies since the time Luc saved
him from Harlan and the others. He never thought Harlan would actually go for
him, though, not even after. So he assumed when Harlan pressed even closer that
he was just trying to scare Marcus, trying to reassert his authority as the big
man on campus.
That was the only reason Marcus pushed back, the only reason he leaned up until
they were breathing the same air, lips just inches apart. He'd been expecting
Harlan to back off, to shove Marcus back against the wall and punch him. Part
of him almost wanted Harlan to hit him, but he wasn't going to explore that
impulse right now, because Harlan wasn't backing off. In fact, Harlan was even
closer now, if that was possible, the sharp angle of his hipbone pressing into
Marcus' stomach. His whole body was just as solid as Marcus always knew it
would be, and if he shifted just a little bit he was going to know exactly what
effect he was having on Marcus.
"I'm not afraid of you," Marcus repeated, ignoring the little thrill
of…something that ran down his spine when Harlan smiled. It wasn't fear, but it
was close enough to make him wonder what he'd gotten himself into. He'd just
admitted to murdering one of Harlan's best friends, after all, and it wasn't
like he still had Luc's knife on him to defend himself.
"Maybe you should be," Harlan said, his grin weirdly distorted from this close
up and Marcus felt his cock twitch at the sight. "Or maybe you should just shut
your mouth for once."
Marcus opened his mouth to say something, but before he figured out a decent
comeback Harlan's lips were pressed against his, tongue in Marcus' mouth and he
forgot all about a sarcastic remark. He forgot everything – the rest of their
class somewhere in the museum, the fact that anybody could walk by and see them
any second. All he could think about was the mouth moving against his, Harlan's
body pressing him hard against the door and…God, Harlan's dick digging into his
thigh.
Harlan was hard because of him, and it shouldn't have come as such a surprise
because he'd already seen Harlan naked and on his knees once. Then again, he'd
been too scared at the time to notice whether or not Harlan was getting off on
watching Marcus shake. He wasn't scared any more, though, not now that he knew
Harlan wanted him.
He managed to work a hand between them without breaking the kiss, fumbling with
Harlan's zipper until his pants were open. When he felt the heat of Harlan's
cock so close to his fingers Marcus panicked a little – he'd never done this
before, not with anybody else, anyway. Still, it couldn't be that different
from getting himself off, so he swallowed a rush of panic and slid his hand
past Harlan's underwear.
He was big – bigger than Marcus, anyway, and it took a few strokes to get used
to the angle and the weight of someone else's cock in his hand. Harlan didn't
seem to notice that he wasn't exactly an expert, though, at least not if the
way he gasped against Marcus' mouth was anything to go by. He thrust hard into
Marcus' hand, and he was pretty sure there were going to be bruises on his
shoulders from Harlan's fingers, but he couldn't bring himself to care.
Way too soon Harlan pulled away, panting hard and pushing Marcus' hand away.
For a second Marcus wondered if maybe he'd done something wrong, but a few
quick, sure strokes of his own hand and Harlan was coming against the wall.
Marcus knew he should be grateful that Harlan had managed to spare his uniform
– it wasn't like he'd be able to explain that to their teacher – but he
couldn't help being a little disappointed that he hadn't been the one to make
Harlan come.
He watched as Harlan tucked himself back into his pants, his own still-hard
cock twitching painfully when Harlan lifted his hand to lick his fingers clean.
And that was the hottest thing Marcus had ever seen until Harlan grinned at him
and dropped to his knees. He glanced up at Marcus as he slid his zipper down
and pulled his cock out, one eyebrow raised as though he was daring Marcus to
say anything.
There was no way Marcus was going to ruin this, though, so he just murmured a
pathetic 'please' and let his head fall back against the door. That seemed to
be what Harlan was waiting for, though, because a second later his mouth closed
around Marcus and he had to fight the urge not to thrust forward and choke the
other boy. And he was pretty sure Harlan had done this before – either that or
he was a natural, but it didn't matter if he had or even who he'd done it with.
Marcus had his suspicions, but he wasn't going to spoil the moment by asking.
Instead he focused on keeping his eyes open, watching as Harlan's mouth worked
up and down his length. His hand slid between Marcus' legs, rolling his balls
back and forth between his fingers until Marcus was moaning low in his throat
and clenching his hands into fists in an effort to hold on just a little
longer. He knew it was a losing battle, though, and when Harlan swallowed
around him and pressed his tongue flat against the underside of Marcus' cock he
thrust forward once and came.
It was less awkward than it could have been, leaning heavy against the wall as
Harlan stood up and smirked at him. He was a little worried that his knees
might give out on him, but he forced himself to straighten up anyway and tuck
himself back into his uniform pants. He felt like he should say something,
maybe 'thanks' or 'I was right about you' – anything just to break the silence
- but before he caught his breath long enough to find his voice Harlan was
leaning in again.
"This isn't over," he whispered in Marcus' ear, breath hot against his skin and
when he brushed his lips across Marcus' neck he had couldn't quite suppress a
shudder. Two seconds later Harlan was gone, leaving Marcus to fumble for his
cigarettes with trembling fingers. He wasn't sure what had just happened, but
he had a feeling Harlan was right about one thing – maybe Marcus should be a
little afraid of him after all.
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