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.au fic: The Hours of Instruction - D/M (NC17) 13.?
Title: The Hours of Instruction
By: HF
Email: aesc36 @gmail.com
Pairing: D/M
Rating/Warning: NC17 this chapter.
Disclaimers: If the boys were mine, this season would notbe happening have happened.
Advertisements: Catholic school AU. For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
wordclaim50 challenge #01 (AU) and philosophy_20 challenge #08 (Faith).
Chapters: 01; 02; 03; 04; 05; 06; 07; 08; 09; 10; 11; 12
Notes: This has been a spectacularly inconvenient week for writing *grumbles at abrupt schedule upheavals* Bright side: We all know what happens now.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Danny’s mouth was warm on his firm, tongue playing slickly around Martin’s teeth. Shocking, surprising even though they’d done this a thousand – five, really – times before, different, standing with his back against rough stone and in broad daylight, seeing Danny like this, without the shadows of predawn and haziness left over from sleep.
“You with me?” Danny asked through the kiss, thread of uncertainty shot through the teasing.
“Are you with us today, Mr. Fitzgerald?” Professor Everett was staring at him, colorless eyes and pale skin making him vampiric in the darkness of the classroom.
The whole class was staring at him, for that matter. Even Danny.
“Yessir,” Martin muttered.
“Very well, then you won’t mind explaining to the class how the Articles of Confederation and the Constitution differ with respect to their treatment of the legislative branch.” Professor Everett’s voice was devoid of disapproval at Martin’s daydreaming or satisfaction at being able to call him on it – flat, dry, that was Professor Everett, but Martin could feel the disapproval and satisfaction pouring off him, in Professor Everett’s quiet, monochromatic way.
He began to stumble his way through his explanation, relieved that Danny had a bizarre passion for the intricacies of law and had given him a summary of the differences between the Articles and Constitution. Not, Martin thought, that he was ever going to tell Danny that, smirking and self-satisfied bastard that he was.
* * *
“Great save, Fitzgerald.” Fleming punched Martin’s arm on his way by.
“Yeah, ‘thanks for helping me with the reading last night, Danny,’” Danny added, mercifully in a quieter tone of voice than he usually employed to tease Martin.
Martin could feel himself turning red, and was stumbling around for a reply other than the automatic and graceless ‘thank you’ he knew Danny was expecting, when Joseph Preston materialized beside him.
“Hey, Martin.” Seriously, the kid was like… like a bad penny, or some kind of skin disease, there was no getting rid of him.
“Hey, Preston.” Martin was careful to stress Preston’s last name and hoped Preston would take the hint.
“Going to flagellate yourself?” Danny asked from Martin’s other side.
Martin was pretty sure he was about to prove that spontaneous human combustion was indeed possible. One more minute – no, one more nanosecond – stuck between a hostile Danny and clueless Preston and fwoosh, he’d go up just like that, and Danny would have all A’s for the year after all, and be scraping Martin’s ashes from his stupid sloppy hair for the rest of the semester.
“Going for a run,” Preston said defensively. Was that his imagination, or did Preston lean especially heavily on the ‘run’?
Paranoid imagination, Martin told himself. Had to be.
“I don’t think you get canonized for physical fitness.”
“Danny,” Martin hissed.
“What’d I say?” So elaborately innocent Martin had to snort. And he almost forgot he was trying to keep Danny and Preston apart and minimize the damage to his sanity caused by having both of them around at the same time.
“Look,” Preston’s impatience cut into Martin’s precious, all-too-brief heartbeat of denial. “I wanted to know if you wanted to come along.” He paused. “Martin, I meant.” Just in case Danny, you know, made the mistake of thinking Preston wanted his company.
“Maybe some other time.” Shall we say the second Tuesday of next week? Martin watched as Preston processed the rejection, firmly ignored the tingle of guilt creeping up – and what the hell did he have to feel guilty about, anyway? He didn’t like Preston (much) and he didn’t feel like going running right now.
At least, not that kind of running, actual running like Dombrowski had him doing. The other kind of running… Well, yes. He was a teenaged boy, as much as it drove him crazy to admit it at times. The burning in his face ratcheted up a notch, and Martin prayed fervently that Danny would attribute it to Preston’s intrusive, embarrassing presence, and not memories of yesterday.
Brief awareness flickered across Preston’s face, like he might actually be catching on to Martin’s lack of interest, but awareness and hurt disappeared swiftly behind a mask of reserve that Martin could almost admire, if he weren’t so busy feeling bad.
“Some other time,” Preston echoed, and turned away, vanishing into the crowd of students headed down the stairs of Mallory Hall to an afternoon of freedom, back straight and shoulders squared in a way that would have hurt to see if Martin weren’t mortally humiliated at the moment.
“Someone’s got a crush on Martin.” Even in a careful, modulated whisper Danny’s singing voice grated painfully.
“Don’t you have baseball practice or something?” Martin had to strain to keep his voice low, mindful that the hallway had emptied of everyone else except themselves, a chastened Bryson (who hadn’t had anyone to crib from and had fallen down on another Articles question), and a satisfied Professor Everett.
“Practice, unfortunately.” And what Danny thought of Preston’s invitation and Martin’s response, Danny didn’t say. Left Martin to dangle, desperate to ask and terrified to even breathe a word about the incident.
“See you after, then?” he asked, knowing he didn’t sound entirely civil and wishing it were otherwise.
“Later,” Danny said. He stepped away, uncertainty there again – just at the edges of that smile – and Martin couldn’t decide whether to feel relieved about that or not.
Too much uncertainty, that was the problem. At times he felt like he knew Danny better than he knew anyone else, even the people he’d known forever, even better than himself, maybe… And then there were times like these, when Danny went quiet and hesitant, backing away like he was afraid not to look at Martin anymore, like Martin would up and disappear, and given where Danny’d come from – what he’d told Martin (dead parents) and what Martin had been able to figure out (moving from home to home, older brother a disappointment, everything the state ever gave him a colossal disappointment) – Martin could understand that.
And that understanding hurt, more than Martin had been prepared for.
He waited until Danny was safely down the stairs and out the door before following, and once out in the open took the shortest path he knew back to Grey. No one stopped him or even acknowledged him, a wonderful sort of anonymity – he’d perfected it, the don’t look at me demeanor, liked how people’s eyes sort of slid over him (You’ve got a good kid here, Victor; he’s got his head on straight), dismissive – and he made it back to his room in record time. Dumped his stuff down by his desk in an uncharacteristic fit of sloppiness and collapsed on his bed.
Instantly, of course, memories of Danny intruded. No possible way to associate his bed with peaceful, uninterrupted sleep anymore, Martin thought sadly. And no way to think about Danny anymore without thinking of –
* * *
“You with me?”
“Yeah… Yeah.” He hoped Danny attributed the shakiness in his voice to lust and not shock that he was here, doing this – actually with his back against the wall of the shrine, the rock chill against his skin, which felt superheated like he was burning up, and Danny right there, looking at him.
He wanted this, wanted Danny, Danny with his hands up under Martin’s shirt and Danny’s body pressed close against his, and all he had to do –
Reached up and out, hands clasped around Danny’s neck to pull him in, and he had him, had Danny, hot and real and pressed hard against him. A real kiss this time, the first one he’d actually initiated, not sure if he was trying to prove himself to himself or Danny and not really caring because Danny was kissing him back but letting him take the lead, and it was weird, feeling Danny’s mouth open under his, going along with him.
Weird but good, being in charge, fingers tracing along Danny’s cheekbones to change the angle of the kiss, deepening it, Danny’s tongue and lips slick and firm against his own, soft scratch of stubble he’d have to tease Danny about later. Fingers twining through Danny’s hair now, thick and soft, dark against between them, always barely on the dress-code side of sloppy and weirdly, that made Martin want to mess it up even more.
It was, Martin thought dimly, crazy, doing this in daylight, exposed and isolated all at once, and once upon a time – back in the days when he could think straight – Martin might actually have cared. But this? This was like being drunk, being high, being something, Danny’s fingers teasing around his nipples, Danny’s mouth like a drug, even the smell of sweat, the whistle of Danny’s breath through his nostrils were potent.
Even crazier:
“You ever done this before?” Martin asked, when Danny left off kissing in favor of nipping and licking at Martin’s neck, right at the place where Martin’s uniform collar would stop and where there would be awkward explanations.
“A couple times.” Cautious admission and Danny pulled back a bit and what, he was worried Martin would be angry he hadn’t... hadn’t saved himself or something? And yeah, yeah he was worried, eyes dark and body tense with it.
“Thought you were a natural, is all.” Whispered this to reluctant lips, had to grin when he felt Danny smile against his mouth. Felt Danny’s laugh too, not much more than a hitch of his chest, press of hard muscle against him.
“Well, there’s that too.” The words melted into a methodical, knowing kiss, and Martin could feel Danny still smiling, taste it almost, satisfaction and enough ego there to make Martin, despite the situation, want to smack him.
Pause: “What about you?”
“Maybe.”
“No way.” Danny pulled back, and wow, that was something: superiority and disbelief both written there on Danny’s face. Martin had no idea that could be done. “No. Possible. Way.”
“So, what, you afraid you won’t get extra points for deflowerment or something?”
“No.” Danny actually managed to sound regretful even as one hand returned to playing with Martin’s nipple. “But it’s pretty hot.”
There wasn’t anything to say to that, because it was true, and Martin had no idea that anxiety could be an aphrodisiac, but apparently it was – or maybe it was Danny, confident, inexorable, pulling him along, like Martin even wanted to resist in the first place. Coaxing, Danny’s mouth and hand, see how easy this is? encouraging Martin to touch.
And Danny felt good, really good, so much of him still new and Martin could have spent ages exploring, the planes and ridges of his torso, deeper ridge of a scar low along Danny’s abdomen, and when Martin touched that Danny tensed for the briefest moment.
“Tell you about it later,” Danny sighed against his collarbone, mouth hot even through Martin’s t-shirt, and crazy that they were still fully clothed, feeling stripped under Danny’s hands, and okay, yes, later – later was okay, because Danny’s right hand was in his shorts – God help him, Danny’s right hand was in his shorts, his left pushing the fabric lower down Martin’s hips – fingers slipping past the waistband and lower, lower along the curve of Martin’s upper thigh. Lower, lower and he hadn’t realized how hard he was until Danny’s fingers wrapped around him.
His entire being tensed with it, every nerve ending lighting up and making the world go white, lower body rocking harshly into Danny’s, and he felt that Danny was hard too, body just as tight and desperate. No pattern anymore in Danny’s kisses as Martin pulled him closer, one hand gripping Danny’s ass and the other like Danny’s, bolder (and Martin could hardly believe this), under Danny’s shorts now – awkward, having to turn his wrist to get between them – and Danny’s skin was beautiful, smooth and hot, damp, living, muscles shifting underneath it as Danny sighed against him.
“God, Martin,” Danny said, God, the way he said it – Martin’s name – Martin, choked and slurred, rough with want, twisting upward in surprise when Martin closed his own hand around Danny’s cock – hot, hard flesh, smooth and oh God this was what he wanted – the way he said it.... Dangerous, dangerous in a way Martin hadn’t expected.
Danny’s hand was unsteady on him for a moment, like Danny needed to collect himself enough to move. But then he picked up a rhythm, Martin’s body helplessly in time with it, relentless and he had to hang on, had to focus on Danny’s breath and Danny’s body, his hand on Danny’s cock not as certain. Danny didn’t seem to mind, and Martin knew he didn’t, only wanting closer and harder, loving Danny’s thigh still there, pressed fiercely against him.
So good it hurt, the pleasure hallucinatory under Martin’s closed eyelids, Danny everywhere almost, around and in and on him, in the air that Martin could barely breathe, practically in every corner of Martin’s body, everywhere.
Coming was sudden, wrenched from him like the cry Danny caught up in a sharp kiss. Dimly he felt hot stickiness on his stomach, too busy shaking to register more than that, even Danny shuddering through his own orgasm, new, foreign heat plastering the two of them together.
Danny was the only thing holding him up, and Martin thought that maybe he was the only thing holding Danny up, too, the two of them collapsed against the wall, legs and breath tangled and clumsy. Danny’s breath hummed along Martin’s neck, where his face rested in the curve of Martin’s shoulder.
Martin finally managed to pry his eyes open, the light dazzling through the trees, kaleidoscopic as the leaves changed. His heart was still going a million miles a minute, and what he thought was the rushing of blood in his head he realized was the river running nearby. Finally managed to focus on Danny, fully expecting to see that satisfied yes I am a sex god, you may bow before me grin plastered on Danny’s face.
He didn’t get that – surprise instead, Danny’s eyes hazy with it, like maybe he was as surprised as Martin. Lost, too, somewhere out at sea and way out of his depth, and not expecting that at all.
Reality set in slowly, chilly on sweaty flesh, clinging to damp cotton. Danny shivered against him, and Martin could feel the coolness of stone seeping through his skin; somehow, his shirt had gotten pushed up under his arms. Didn’t move, but Danny backed off anyway, straightening reluctantly, not quite meeting Martin’s eyes when he looked up.
They cleaned up as best they could and walked back, the sun unexpectedly dazzling above the trees and confusing silence below, until Martin felt Danny’s fingers at his wrist. They walked like that until they turned toward the school at Euphrosyne’s corner, when Danny let go.
* * *
At dinner yesterday night, Martin had been pretty sure he had a flashing neon sign that said MARTIN FITZGERALD GOT OFF WITH DANNY TAYLOR strapped to the top of his head. The other boys had continued their conversation as usual – Ashley complaining about the workload, Matt preoccupied with the game this coming weekend, Kieran trying to keep Ashley under control, and David involved with some equation – and if they saw said flashing neon sign, they didn’t say anything about it.
“You’re quiet tonight,” was all that Matt, who was more observant, said to Danny. “Usually you’re out-talking Ashley. Anything wrong?”
“Not a thing,” Danny said, and had the circumspection to wait until Matt turned back to his plate to toss a soft, private smile Martin’s way.
That had been an odd night, Martin’s body suffused with energy and a weird sort of contentment, bouncing back and forth between memories, dreams, and waking. Danny hadn’t woken him up today like he’d done the few days before, seeming to recognize Martin needed time to process, and Martin was grateful for that.
What he was not grateful for was what had happened this afternoon, and for that matter, the tight, uncomfortable ache between his legs.
“Fuck.” He glared down at himself, tried to will his erection away by reminding it he was supposed to be irritated with Danny at the moment, not lusting after him.
And how you could go from that to... to this, Martin honestly couldn’t say. He fell back against his pillow and tried to figure out what to do, long- and short-term.
Long: Maybe they were doomed to spend the rest of their lives fighting with each other.
The thought brought him up short. Not the part about being doomed, but the rest of their lives part. The most reasonable limit on their time together would be until the end of the following year – and he most emphatically was not going to examine his willingness to stay at Trinity just because of Danny – and then they would be off to college and the rest of their lives. A sarcastically hopeful thought about high-school sweethearts flickered through Martin’s awareness, but he banished it quickly.
Short: He’d done it before, and thank God Danny was at practice and most of the other kids were out of Grey, milling around the rest of the school. Feeling vaguely like a criminal, Martin crept out of his room and skulked for the bathrooms.
-tbc.-
By: HF
Email: aesc36 @gmail.com
Pairing: D/M
Rating/Warning: NC17 this chapter.
Disclaimers: If the boys were mine, this season would not
Advertisements: Catholic school AU. For
wordclaim50 challenge #01 (AU) and philosophy_20 challenge #08 (Faith).Chapters: 01; 02; 03; 04; 05; 06; 07; 08; 09; 10; 11; 12
Notes: This has been a spectacularly inconvenient week for writing *grumbles at abrupt schedule upheavals* Bright side: We all know what happens now.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Danny’s mouth was warm on his firm, tongue playing slickly around Martin’s teeth. Shocking, surprising even though they’d done this a thousand – five, really – times before, different, standing with his back against rough stone and in broad daylight, seeing Danny like this, without the shadows of predawn and haziness left over from sleep.
“You with me?” Danny asked through the kiss, thread of uncertainty shot through the teasing.
“Are you with us today, Mr. Fitzgerald?” Professor Everett was staring at him, colorless eyes and pale skin making him vampiric in the darkness of the classroom.
The whole class was staring at him, for that matter. Even Danny.
“Yessir,” Martin muttered.
“Very well, then you won’t mind explaining to the class how the Articles of Confederation and the Constitution differ with respect to their treatment of the legislative branch.” Professor Everett’s voice was devoid of disapproval at Martin’s daydreaming or satisfaction at being able to call him on it – flat, dry, that was Professor Everett, but Martin could feel the disapproval and satisfaction pouring off him, in Professor Everett’s quiet, monochromatic way.
He began to stumble his way through his explanation, relieved that Danny had a bizarre passion for the intricacies of law and had given him a summary of the differences between the Articles and Constitution. Not, Martin thought, that he was ever going to tell Danny that, smirking and self-satisfied bastard that he was.
“Great save, Fitzgerald.” Fleming punched Martin’s arm on his way by.
“Yeah, ‘thanks for helping me with the reading last night, Danny,’” Danny added, mercifully in a quieter tone of voice than he usually employed to tease Martin.
Martin could feel himself turning red, and was stumbling around for a reply other than the automatic and graceless ‘thank you’ he knew Danny was expecting, when Joseph Preston materialized beside him.
“Hey, Martin.” Seriously, the kid was like… like a bad penny, or some kind of skin disease, there was no getting rid of him.
“Hey, Preston.” Martin was careful to stress Preston’s last name and hoped Preston would take the hint.
“Going to flagellate yourself?” Danny asked from Martin’s other side.
Martin was pretty sure he was about to prove that spontaneous human combustion was indeed possible. One more minute – no, one more nanosecond – stuck between a hostile Danny and clueless Preston and fwoosh, he’d go up just like that, and Danny would have all A’s for the year after all, and be scraping Martin’s ashes from his stupid sloppy hair for the rest of the semester.
“Going for a run,” Preston said defensively. Was that his imagination, or did Preston lean especially heavily on the ‘run’?
Paranoid imagination, Martin told himself. Had to be.
“I don’t think you get canonized for physical fitness.”
“Danny,” Martin hissed.
“What’d I say?” So elaborately innocent Martin had to snort. And he almost forgot he was trying to keep Danny and Preston apart and minimize the damage to his sanity caused by having both of them around at the same time.
“Look,” Preston’s impatience cut into Martin’s precious, all-too-brief heartbeat of denial. “I wanted to know if you wanted to come along.” He paused. “Martin, I meant.” Just in case Danny, you know, made the mistake of thinking Preston wanted his company.
“Maybe some other time.” Shall we say the second Tuesday of next week? Martin watched as Preston processed the rejection, firmly ignored the tingle of guilt creeping up – and what the hell did he have to feel guilty about, anyway? He didn’t like Preston (much) and he didn’t feel like going running right now.
At least, not that kind of running, actual running like Dombrowski had him doing. The other kind of running… Well, yes. He was a teenaged boy, as much as it drove him crazy to admit it at times. The burning in his face ratcheted up a notch, and Martin prayed fervently that Danny would attribute it to Preston’s intrusive, embarrassing presence, and not memories of yesterday.
Brief awareness flickered across Preston’s face, like he might actually be catching on to Martin’s lack of interest, but awareness and hurt disappeared swiftly behind a mask of reserve that Martin could almost admire, if he weren’t so busy feeling bad.
“Some other time,” Preston echoed, and turned away, vanishing into the crowd of students headed down the stairs of Mallory Hall to an afternoon of freedom, back straight and shoulders squared in a way that would have hurt to see if Martin weren’t mortally humiliated at the moment.
“Someone’s got a crush on Martin.” Even in a careful, modulated whisper Danny’s singing voice grated painfully.
“Don’t you have baseball practice or something?” Martin had to strain to keep his voice low, mindful that the hallway had emptied of everyone else except themselves, a chastened Bryson (who hadn’t had anyone to crib from and had fallen down on another Articles question), and a satisfied Professor Everett.
“Practice, unfortunately.” And what Danny thought of Preston’s invitation and Martin’s response, Danny didn’t say. Left Martin to dangle, desperate to ask and terrified to even breathe a word about the incident.
“See you after, then?” he asked, knowing he didn’t sound entirely civil and wishing it were otherwise.
“Later,” Danny said. He stepped away, uncertainty there again – just at the edges of that smile – and Martin couldn’t decide whether to feel relieved about that or not.
Too much uncertainty, that was the problem. At times he felt like he knew Danny better than he knew anyone else, even the people he’d known forever, even better than himself, maybe… And then there were times like these, when Danny went quiet and hesitant, backing away like he was afraid not to look at Martin anymore, like Martin would up and disappear, and given where Danny’d come from – what he’d told Martin (dead parents) and what Martin had been able to figure out (moving from home to home, older brother a disappointment, everything the state ever gave him a colossal disappointment) – Martin could understand that.
And that understanding hurt, more than Martin had been prepared for.
He waited until Danny was safely down the stairs and out the door before following, and once out in the open took the shortest path he knew back to Grey. No one stopped him or even acknowledged him, a wonderful sort of anonymity – he’d perfected it, the don’t look at me demeanor, liked how people’s eyes sort of slid over him (You’ve got a good kid here, Victor; he’s got his head on straight), dismissive – and he made it back to his room in record time. Dumped his stuff down by his desk in an uncharacteristic fit of sloppiness and collapsed on his bed.
Instantly, of course, memories of Danny intruded. No possible way to associate his bed with peaceful, uninterrupted sleep anymore, Martin thought sadly. And no way to think about Danny anymore without thinking of –
“You with me?”
“Yeah… Yeah.” He hoped Danny attributed the shakiness in his voice to lust and not shock that he was here, doing this – actually with his back against the wall of the shrine, the rock chill against his skin, which felt superheated like he was burning up, and Danny right there, looking at him.
He wanted this, wanted Danny, Danny with his hands up under Martin’s shirt and Danny’s body pressed close against his, and all he had to do –
Reached up and out, hands clasped around Danny’s neck to pull him in, and he had him, had Danny, hot and real and pressed hard against him. A real kiss this time, the first one he’d actually initiated, not sure if he was trying to prove himself to himself or Danny and not really caring because Danny was kissing him back but letting him take the lead, and it was weird, feeling Danny’s mouth open under his, going along with him.
Weird but good, being in charge, fingers tracing along Danny’s cheekbones to change the angle of the kiss, deepening it, Danny’s tongue and lips slick and firm against his own, soft scratch of stubble he’d have to tease Danny about later. Fingers twining through Danny’s hair now, thick and soft, dark against between them, always barely on the dress-code side of sloppy and weirdly, that made Martin want to mess it up even more.
It was, Martin thought dimly, crazy, doing this in daylight, exposed and isolated all at once, and once upon a time – back in the days when he could think straight – Martin might actually have cared. But this? This was like being drunk, being high, being something, Danny’s fingers teasing around his nipples, Danny’s mouth like a drug, even the smell of sweat, the whistle of Danny’s breath through his nostrils were potent.
Even crazier:
“You ever done this before?” Martin asked, when Danny left off kissing in favor of nipping and licking at Martin’s neck, right at the place where Martin’s uniform collar would stop and where there would be awkward explanations.
“A couple times.” Cautious admission and Danny pulled back a bit and what, he was worried Martin would be angry he hadn’t... hadn’t saved himself or something? And yeah, yeah he was worried, eyes dark and body tense with it.
“Thought you were a natural, is all.” Whispered this to reluctant lips, had to grin when he felt Danny smile against his mouth. Felt Danny’s laugh too, not much more than a hitch of his chest, press of hard muscle against him.
“Well, there’s that too.” The words melted into a methodical, knowing kiss, and Martin could feel Danny still smiling, taste it almost, satisfaction and enough ego there to make Martin, despite the situation, want to smack him.
Pause: “What about you?”
“Maybe.”
“No way.” Danny pulled back, and wow, that was something: superiority and disbelief both written there on Danny’s face. Martin had no idea that could be done. “No. Possible. Way.”
“So, what, you afraid you won’t get extra points for deflowerment or something?”
“No.” Danny actually managed to sound regretful even as one hand returned to playing with Martin’s nipple. “But it’s pretty hot.”
There wasn’t anything to say to that, because it was true, and Martin had no idea that anxiety could be an aphrodisiac, but apparently it was – or maybe it was Danny, confident, inexorable, pulling him along, like Martin even wanted to resist in the first place. Coaxing, Danny’s mouth and hand, see how easy this is? encouraging Martin to touch.
And Danny felt good, really good, so much of him still new and Martin could have spent ages exploring, the planes and ridges of his torso, deeper ridge of a scar low along Danny’s abdomen, and when Martin touched that Danny tensed for the briefest moment.
“Tell you about it later,” Danny sighed against his collarbone, mouth hot even through Martin’s t-shirt, and crazy that they were still fully clothed, feeling stripped under Danny’s hands, and okay, yes, later – later was okay, because Danny’s right hand was in his shorts – God help him, Danny’s right hand was in his shorts, his left pushing the fabric lower down Martin’s hips – fingers slipping past the waistband and lower, lower along the curve of Martin’s upper thigh. Lower, lower and he hadn’t realized how hard he was until Danny’s fingers wrapped around him.
His entire being tensed with it, every nerve ending lighting up and making the world go white, lower body rocking harshly into Danny’s, and he felt that Danny was hard too, body just as tight and desperate. No pattern anymore in Danny’s kisses as Martin pulled him closer, one hand gripping Danny’s ass and the other like Danny’s, bolder (and Martin could hardly believe this), under Danny’s shorts now – awkward, having to turn his wrist to get between them – and Danny’s skin was beautiful, smooth and hot, damp, living, muscles shifting underneath it as Danny sighed against him.
“God, Martin,” Danny said, God, the way he said it – Martin’s name – Martin, choked and slurred, rough with want, twisting upward in surprise when Martin closed his own hand around Danny’s cock – hot, hard flesh, smooth and oh God this was what he wanted – the way he said it.... Dangerous, dangerous in a way Martin hadn’t expected.
Danny’s hand was unsteady on him for a moment, like Danny needed to collect himself enough to move. But then he picked up a rhythm, Martin’s body helplessly in time with it, relentless and he had to hang on, had to focus on Danny’s breath and Danny’s body, his hand on Danny’s cock not as certain. Danny didn’t seem to mind, and Martin knew he didn’t, only wanting closer and harder, loving Danny’s thigh still there, pressed fiercely against him.
So good it hurt, the pleasure hallucinatory under Martin’s closed eyelids, Danny everywhere almost, around and in and on him, in the air that Martin could barely breathe, practically in every corner of Martin’s body, everywhere.
Coming was sudden, wrenched from him like the cry Danny caught up in a sharp kiss. Dimly he felt hot stickiness on his stomach, too busy shaking to register more than that, even Danny shuddering through his own orgasm, new, foreign heat plastering the two of them together.
Danny was the only thing holding him up, and Martin thought that maybe he was the only thing holding Danny up, too, the two of them collapsed against the wall, legs and breath tangled and clumsy. Danny’s breath hummed along Martin’s neck, where his face rested in the curve of Martin’s shoulder.
Martin finally managed to pry his eyes open, the light dazzling through the trees, kaleidoscopic as the leaves changed. His heart was still going a million miles a minute, and what he thought was the rushing of blood in his head he realized was the river running nearby. Finally managed to focus on Danny, fully expecting to see that satisfied yes I am a sex god, you may bow before me grin plastered on Danny’s face.
He didn’t get that – surprise instead, Danny’s eyes hazy with it, like maybe he was as surprised as Martin. Lost, too, somewhere out at sea and way out of his depth, and not expecting that at all.
Reality set in slowly, chilly on sweaty flesh, clinging to damp cotton. Danny shivered against him, and Martin could feel the coolness of stone seeping through his skin; somehow, his shirt had gotten pushed up under his arms. Didn’t move, but Danny backed off anyway, straightening reluctantly, not quite meeting Martin’s eyes when he looked up.
They cleaned up as best they could and walked back, the sun unexpectedly dazzling above the trees and confusing silence below, until Martin felt Danny’s fingers at his wrist. They walked like that until they turned toward the school at Euphrosyne’s corner, when Danny let go.
At dinner yesterday night, Martin had been pretty sure he had a flashing neon sign that said MARTIN FITZGERALD GOT OFF WITH DANNY TAYLOR strapped to the top of his head. The other boys had continued their conversation as usual – Ashley complaining about the workload, Matt preoccupied with the game this coming weekend, Kieran trying to keep Ashley under control, and David involved with some equation – and if they saw said flashing neon sign, they didn’t say anything about it.
“You’re quiet tonight,” was all that Matt, who was more observant, said to Danny. “Usually you’re out-talking Ashley. Anything wrong?”
“Not a thing,” Danny said, and had the circumspection to wait until Matt turned back to his plate to toss a soft, private smile Martin’s way.
That had been an odd night, Martin’s body suffused with energy and a weird sort of contentment, bouncing back and forth between memories, dreams, and waking. Danny hadn’t woken him up today like he’d done the few days before, seeming to recognize Martin needed time to process, and Martin was grateful for that.
What he was not grateful for was what had happened this afternoon, and for that matter, the tight, uncomfortable ache between his legs.
“Fuck.” He glared down at himself, tried to will his erection away by reminding it he was supposed to be irritated with Danny at the moment, not lusting after him.
And how you could go from that to... to this, Martin honestly couldn’t say. He fell back against his pillow and tried to figure out what to do, long- and short-term.
Long: Maybe they were doomed to spend the rest of their lives fighting with each other.
The thought brought him up short. Not the part about being doomed, but the rest of their lives part. The most reasonable limit on their time together would be until the end of the following year – and he most emphatically was not going to examine his willingness to stay at Trinity just because of Danny – and then they would be off to college and the rest of their lives. A sarcastically hopeful thought about high-school sweethearts flickered through Martin’s awareness, but he banished it quickly.
Short: He’d done it before, and thank God Danny was at practice and most of the other kids were out of Grey, milling around the rest of the school. Feeling vaguely like a criminal, Martin crept out of his room and skulked for the bathrooms.
-tbc.-
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Oh, you have no idea how long I've been waiting for this. And yum, because this was hot. And I liked the bit of reality at the end, because let's face it, most high school relationships do not last forever and ever. (Although this one will, right? *sends Viv-like threatening look*)
And hee, for hostile/jealous Danny! Bwah! Again, please, please write something from Preston's POV, poor boy--although he really ought to know better than to go hunting around Danny's territory.
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I think even if they passed a law saying Thou shalt not continue high school relationships after graduation, Danny and Martin would still keep seeing each other. Yes. *nods*
Again, please, please write something from Preston's POV, poor boy--although he really ought to know better than to go hunting around Danny's territory.
The moment I get a fic-writing breath, I'll see what I can do :D
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This Preston subplot is fast-turning into one of my favorite parts of this fic. I just think it's so funny. I guess by now he's got SOME kind of clue...I hope...
Omg, handjobs! Outside! *dies*
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I'm glad people like him (even in the qualified sense of "like"), because I wasn't sure about introducing him... He was originally supposed to be the nameless, obnoxious kid who tells Martin to pay attention during chapel, but he seems to have mutated.
Omg, handjobs! Outside!
Those boys *shakes head*
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Lovely, the sex was hot but sweet at the same time, and Preston showing up ... I'm starting to like Preston, or, not Preston himself, but the way he makes Danny act. ^_~
Still interested to see where this is going ... not that you need a particular destination in mind, int his particular fic, the journey is the destination, and I'm just along enjoying the ride.
~Djinn
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Oh, no they can't. It's one of those laws of nature things.
I'm starting to like Preston, or, not Preston himself, but the way he makes Danny act.
Awwww... poor Preston. Still, I do like him as a catalyst for Danny's very badly-hidden jealousy and territoriality *g*
I'm just along enjoying the ride.
Happy to hear it! It's one of those journeys that ends up going down a bunch of back roads, detouring into the scary parts of town, that sort of thing.
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Preston ain't the only one Danny, believe you me. With those beautiful eyes, anyone would fall overthemselves!
Absolutely amazing, as always. And hey! SEX:D
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I could almost hear Danny sort of sing-songing that into my ear. So something he would do.
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I can die happy now.
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You have no idea how hard it was to wait all day to finally read this! Worth the wait though (as usual!).
I love this Danny. I feel this is exactly how he would be as an adolescent - obvious and honest in his jealousy, where the older Danny would be more subtle. It makes his character that much more real, like we are really looking at what Danny would have been like, as opposed to what he is like now plopped down into high school.
And again, Preston. Oh Preston. Can't you just drop an anvil on him and put the poor child out of his misery.
Oh. And did I mention the hottness? Very very hot. Sizzling!
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Oh, yes--but, subtlety or not, Danny would still find a way to get a needle in. It would just be a subtle needle.
Can't you just drop an anvil on him and put the poor child out of his misery.
That wouldn't be nice.
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god, i love this series (hell, i love ALL your series!)
although, you are breaking my heart over poor Preston (okay, maybe i'm just identifying waaaaaay too much!)
d&m 4 eva!
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I think I'm in danger of identifying a bit too much with Preston *sigh* There was That One Guy I had a terrible crush on in high school, but could never bring myself to even look at him, much less walk up to him and say 'hi.'
Preston's a bit more gutsy than I am, apparently.
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Post- sex angst is something wonderful, because it adds a certain complexity to the whole matter of sex... And this is so typically Danny and Martin...
And it was so hot, too... *more sigh*
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Heh heh. I like my sex good and complicated :D
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My favorite bit was Danny nibbling at his neck right above where his shirt collar would cover. *shakes head at Danny* That naughty boy.
I also liked Matt's observation that Danny was unusually quiet. And Martin's constant memories and arousal. Oh yeah, and poor Preston. I hope he gets a clue soon.
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Yes, yes he is. But we love him :D
I hope he gets a clue soon.
*facepalm* Me, too.
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And there's another chapter already waiting. Squee!