Fancy Claps - carleton97

Lucas isn't sure how Mark does this to him. How he can make the craziest things (come on, no one goes to the roof of the building) seem normal. Lucas is supposed to be the mature one now, dammit. The one who can take calls from distributors and unsigned bands trying to sell their music. The one who decides where they buy ad space. The one Joe trusts despite that whole nine thousand dollars thing.

He isn't supposed to be spread out face down on Joe's desk after midnight on a Friday. He isn't supposed to be gasping in stuffy, uncirculated air in a desperate attempt to breathe. He isn't supposed to have Mark biting damp kisses over his back and hips.

He isn't supposed to like it and a tiny, uncontrolled portion of his brain starts mumbling something about hetero-normative expectations but even that voice breaks off at the first touch of Mark's tongue.

They've done this once before, sometime in the middle of that endless first night where they touched each other every way they could think of. They haven't done it since and Lucas had assumed it was something that just didn't work for Mark.

Even if it had worked for him. A lot.

Another plush movement of Mark's tongue has Lucas shuddering, a line of goosebumps chasing up his spine and prickling his scalp. He can feel the edge of the desk sharp against his thighs but he doesn't care about the bruises he knows he's going to find in the morning or that his dick is leaving a sticky trail on the battered side of Joe's desk. He doesn't care that he's crumpling the latest inventory counts or that he's leaving sweaty handprints on the cover of the Rolling Stone Joe hasn't had a chance to read yet.

Mark does... something that leaves him breathless and he's pretty sure he wouldn't even care if Joe - if Warren - walked in right then. He's that close and he's pretty sure he can come just from this as long as Mark keeps -

"Nnnngh. No, don't - Oh!"

Oh. Oh. Mark leans over his back, one hand twined with Lucas' and the other tight on his hip, bracing him against the blunt pressure of penetration. The slow, splitting push of latex and erection has him twisting against Mark's hands, his sweat-slick body sliding through Mark's hold like water. The first gliding rub against his prostate is all it takes for Lucas to come, shuddering and clenching under and around Mark.

Mark is a solid weight on his back when he's together enough to pay attention again. His breath is hot and fast against Lucas' cheek and he can feel his sweaty chest and stomach through the rucked up material of his t-shirt. Between Mark's boneless sprawl and the closeness of the air, it's a struggle to draw a full breath but Lucas doesn't care.

He likes it.

Even if it is crazy.

The End

disclaimer: Empire Records isn't mine, but sometimes I like to pretend it is.