Sequel to this: http://scribe-protra.livejournal.com/215580.html?thread=2480668#t2480668
It might have been mentioned, once or twice, that I was known for stupid, suicidal, and mildly reckless actions.
You know. Just once or twice.
I accepted this and went on merrily with my days, doing what I did regardless of the spurious comments and my dog‘s exasperated looks. He was a dog. As long as I survived long enough to feed him and walk him, he shouldn’t complain. Ungrateful mutt.
I might have done things more reckless than usual in the past. I refused to count the T-Rex on that list. That T-Rex was on my top 5 achievement list, if for no other reason than it enhanced my reputation. Even if the reputation was built on the end results and not on the fight to get to that point, it still was enough to keep certain people off my ass.
My most reckless things…well, those weren’t the more public events. Sometimes, they were the things I weren’t really comfortable with or had problems explaining to even myself.
This? This was definitely the latter.
If someone else knew about the situation and stopped gaping and stuttering and chanting anti-hexes long enough to give an opinion, they would probably guess that Marcone would be in the middle of this particular sandwich. Well, it surprised me, too.
Which sandwich? The one on Marcone’s abnormally large bed, the bed massive enough to fit my long body, as well as Marcone on one side of me and Hendricks on the other.
Yeah. That sandwich.
When Marcone stated he was fine with sharing, he meant he was fine with sharing as long as he got a turn. Hendricks fucked slow and steady, like he had all the time in the world. He would trap you with his body and his massive paws and his thick cock and fuck you until you stopped trying to wriggle away, and then he would fuck you some more. Endurance, thy name was Hendricks. Marcone? For all his gentleman facade, he fucked like he was making a claim. You were his, and he would show it with every scratch, every bite, every limping step you took.
It wasn’t a collar, but it was a claim.
It was okay: he let me bite him back.
Hendricks watched, too, looking exasperated and indulgent in turns, while Marcone and I fought and fucked like wildcats on the bed. We both bled by the end, and I was sorry for whoever had to clean the sheets afterward.
Marcone drank my blood, just once. He bit my neck until I bled and just fucking bit and licked at the wound. I asked him about it, and he said he could taste it. He didn’t elaborate on what. I think Hendricks almost batted him on the nose after that. I was sure he lectured him: I just wasn’t sure if there were words involved.
When neither watched? When I settled in the middle then?
You could usually tell by the next four blocks losing power.
But all of that ended here. Hendricks stayed on one side, massive paw covering my bony hip, easy and relaxed and heavy enough to keep me pinned all by its lonesome. Marcone curled up against my back, damned big spoon, and wrapped a possessive arm around my waist. I woke up in the morning just once before him and couldn’t get free. Hendricks watched me. I couldn’t say how long he had been awake. He raised an eyebrow like he was silently asking if I wanted to get up. I settled back down, and so did he.
I limped away more mornings than not, and I slept with two men who could kill me that same day, maybe a little regretful, but still lethal. I still bitched at Marcone and called Hendricks “Cujo” and lit Marcone’s buildings on fire.
But at night I hid away here. I was owned, just Harry, not the Wizard Dresden, fire and temper and lanky limbs. Hendricks pinned me and fucked me deep, everything about him fucking deep, and Marcone held me still with his teeth and fucked me until neither of us could move. Neither used condoms and sometimes Marcone stalled in cleaning, as if to keep his mark there a little longer.
It was stupid and suicidal and reckless to the point where my friends would check me for spells if they knew, but…
I closed my eyes, feeling Hendricks’ hand slowly kneading my hip, Marcone’s callused fingers rubbing my belly.
That was so hot, I believe I can feel my brain dripping out of my ears. I love the crazy intensity Marcone's rocking here and the way Hendricks counterbalances it. I also love the idea of Hendricks batting him on the nose :)
The only way this could be better is if it was longer. Thank you, excellent writernon!
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Marcone/Hendricks/Dresden
(Anonymous) 2011-03-10 11:02 pm (UTC)(link)So: Marcone, Hendricks and Harry, fucking. Everybody must touch each other! Other than that, everything is up to authornon.
Bonus points for an exploration of a how a relationship between them might work (or, y'know, not work.)
Re: Marcone/Hendricks/Dresden
(Anonymous) 2011-03-10 11:40 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Marcone/Hendricks/Dresden
(Anonymous) 2011-03-11 12:18 am (UTC)(link)Re: Marcone/Hendricks/Dresden
(Anonymous) 2011-03-11 12:59 am (UTC)(link)Re: Marcone/Hendricks/Dresden
(Anonymous) 2011-03-11 02:20 am (UTC)(link)Re: Marcone/Hendricks/Dresden
(Anonymous) 2011-03-11 05:29 pm (UTC)(link)Sequel to this: http://scribe-protra.livejournal.com/215580.html?thread=2480668#t2480668
It might have been mentioned, once or twice, that I was known for stupid, suicidal, and mildly reckless actions.
You know. Just once or twice.
I accepted this and went on merrily with my days, doing what I did regardless of the spurious comments and my dog‘s exasperated looks. He was a dog. As long as I survived long enough to feed him and walk him, he shouldn’t complain. Ungrateful mutt.
I might have done things more reckless than usual in the past. I refused to count the T-Rex on that list. That T-Rex was on my top 5 achievement list, if for no other reason than it enhanced my reputation. Even if the reputation was built on the end results and not on the fight to get to that point, it still was enough to keep certain people off my ass.
My most reckless things…well, those weren’t the more public events. Sometimes, they were the things I weren’t really comfortable with or had problems explaining to even myself.
This? This was definitely the latter.
If someone else knew about the situation and stopped gaping and stuttering and chanting anti-hexes long enough to give an opinion, they would probably guess that Marcone would be in the middle of this particular sandwich. Well, it surprised me, too.
Which sandwich? The one on Marcone’s abnormally large bed, the bed massive enough to fit my long body, as well as Marcone on one side of me and Hendricks on the other.
Yeah. That sandwich.
When Marcone stated he was fine with sharing, he meant he was fine with sharing as long as he got a turn. Hendricks fucked slow and steady, like he had all the time in the world. He would trap you with his body and his massive paws and his thick cock and fuck you until you stopped trying to wriggle away, and then he would fuck you some more. Endurance, thy name was Hendricks. Marcone? For all his gentleman facade, he fucked like he was making a claim. You were his, and he would show it with every scratch, every bite, every limping step you took.
It wasn’t a collar, but it was a claim.
It was okay: he let me bite him back.
Hendricks watched, too, looking exasperated and indulgent in turns, while Marcone and I fought and fucked like wildcats on the bed. We both bled by the end, and I was sorry for whoever had to clean the sheets afterward.
Marcone drank my blood, just once. He bit my neck until I bled and just fucking bit and licked at the wound. I asked him about it, and he said he could taste it. He didn’t elaborate on what. I think Hendricks almost batted him on the nose after that. I was sure he lectured him: I just wasn’t sure if there were words involved.
When neither watched? When I settled in the middle then?
You could usually tell by the next four blocks losing power.
But all of that ended here. Hendricks stayed on one side, massive paw covering my bony hip, easy and relaxed and heavy enough to keep me pinned all by its lonesome. Marcone curled up against my back, damned big spoon, and wrapped a possessive arm around my waist. I woke up in the morning just once before him and couldn’t get free. Hendricks watched me. I couldn’t say how long he had been awake. He raised an eyebrow like he was silently asking if I wanted to get up. I settled back down, and so did he.
I limped away more mornings than not, and I slept with two men who could kill me that same day, maybe a little regretful, but still lethal. I still bitched at Marcone and called Hendricks “Cujo” and lit Marcone’s buildings on fire.
But at night I hid away here. I was owned, just Harry, not the Wizard Dresden, fire and temper and lanky limbs. Hendricks pinned me and fucked me deep, everything about him fucking deep, and Marcone held me still with his teeth and fucked me until neither of us could move. Neither used condoms and sometimes Marcone stalled in cleaning, as if to keep his mark there a little longer.
It was stupid and suicidal and reckless to the point where my friends would check me for spells if they knew, but…
I closed my eyes, feeling Hendricks’ hand slowly kneading my hip, Marcone’s callused fingers rubbing my belly.
But it worked perfectly for me.
OP here
(Anonymous) 2011-03-11 05:49 pm (UTC)(link)The only way this could be better is if it was longer. Thank you, excellent writernon!
Re: Marcone/Hendricks/Dresden
(Anonymous) 2011-03-11 05:50 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Marcone/Hendricks/Dresden
(Anonymous) 2011-03-11 05:57 pm (UTC)(link)Loved this bit: Hendricks pinned me and fucked me deep, everything about him fucking deep
Re: Marcone/Hendricks/Dresden
(Anonymous) 2011-03-11 06:25 pm (UTC)(link)*DIES*
Held. Me. Still. With. His. Teeth.
Held me still with his teeth.
HELD ME STILL WITH. HIS. TEETH.
WITH. HIS. TEETH.
..
...
CHRIST.
(Dear Santa. Please, please, please let Marcone keep on being his psycho self forever and ever please. Thank you.)
Re: Marcone/Hendricks/Dresden
(Anonymous) 2011-03-11 07:18 pm (UTC)(link)