Rating: NC17 (and possibly the porniest porn I have ever written)
Summary: Written for this prompt on the_eagle_kink: Esca wears a kilt. Marcus just about loses his mind. Cue Marcus bending Esca over, lifting his kilt, and fucking him hard. Modern AU. A Scottish castle. A wedding. Champagne. Groping. Unrelenting porn.
Warnings/Kinks: clothing!kink; come marking; rimming; orgasm denial; some d/s undertones
Word count: 7550
Disclaimer: The characters from the book 'The Eagle of the Ninth' belong to the estate of Rosemary Sutcliff, and the film, 'The Eagle' is the property of Toledo Productions, Film Four and Focus Features. All creative rights to the original characters and situations depicted within are held by the respective owners; any additional original material is attributable to the author, and no profit is being made from this story.
A/N: I kind of had to write this because I was driving myself mad with the UST in PF and NEEDED TO PORN THESE TWO. I don't even know, you guys X-O
“Marcus,” Esca yelled so Marcus could hear him over the noise of the shower, rapping his knuckles on the bathroom door.
“I'm going to go get ready in Lee's room, okay? Apparently there's a very specific way of pleating this thing, and his dad's the expert.”
The bathroom door cracked open, unleashing a cloud of steam, and Marcus stuck his head out, his hair dripping wet and sticking up in a tuft at the back of his head.
“Yeah, sure. How long have I got?”
Esca gave him a sneaky once-over, a quick dart of his eyes up and down Marcus's chest where the water droplets ran down over his nipples.
“An hour. Make sure you're dressed when I get back.”
“Man, you're so bossy,” Marcus said with a grin.
“You love it,” Esca said, dropping a kiss onto one damp, freckled shoulder, then pushed a laughing Marcus back into the bathroom to finish getting ready.
Lee flung the door to his room open and bellowed delightedly at Esca,
“I'm getting married!”
Esca took one look at him and folded his arms.
“You're also stark bollock naked. Get some fucking clothes on. You're getting married in an hour.”
“Wheesht, you,” Lee said, flapping a big hand in Esca's direction, then he threw his arms around him and dragged him into the room. “I'm getting married,” he said again, in case Esca hadn't heard him the first time.
“Did you have any solids for breakfast, or just champagne?”
“Naw, me mam gave me some of her pills to settle me doon.”
“Uh, yeah, you're very settled,” Esca said, still locked in Lee's embrace. He gave his friend a firm pat on the back, and over Lee's shoulder he caught sight of Lee's father Doug - Lord Selkoe, if he was feeling formal, which was rare - creased almost in half. Esca was grateful to see that Doug, at least, was already kilted-up, though he was somewhat incapacitated with laughter.
“Esca,” he said between wheezes, “gise a hand with this edjit. See if you can't find some coffee an' I'll try to get him dressed.”
“I'm ready, I'm ready,” Marcus said, quickly adjusting his tie. “I just need you to-- uh. Oh,” he said eloquently as he turned his head and caught sight of Esca. His eyes went wide and his brows lifted for a moment as he looked Esca up and down, swallowing hard.
“Don't you dare fucking laugh,” Esca growled. The morning had already been eventful enough without Marcus taking the piss out of him.
“I wasn't going to,” Marcus said quietly, and there was an odd look on his face. “Um, so, is this your clan tartan, or something?”
“No, it's Lee's,” Esca says, scrubbing a hand over his face with exasperation. “Not everyone with a 'Mac' in their surname is of Scottish descent. Not everyone Scottish has a clan tartan. And not everyone in Scotland lives in a castle – Lee's the exception rather than the rule.”
Marcus's mouth dropped open like he'd just heard the most shocking thing ever.
“What, you mean, like, not all Italian Americans are in the mob? And we don't go round saying, 'Mamma mia!' all the time? No way, you're shitting me.”
“I know,” Esca said, using the same sardonic tone as Marcus and dropping his head to one side. “It's like, wow, cultural stereotyping has no actual basis in fact. Mind you,” he said with a snort, “your nonna does yell 'Mamma mia!', at you when she's giving you a clip round the ear.”
“Shut up. My nonna is awesome.”
“Yeah, she totally is, and she's also fucking terrifying.”
Esca and Nonna Livia had a mutual adoration and respect for each other. Every time he and Marcus would visit Marcus's family, she would cluck over him affectionately in Italian, then furiously jab at Marcus with a finger and tell him he wasn't feeding Esca enough, before piling Esca's plate high with a vast portion of food, gesturing for him to eat. Esca was wise enough not to leave anything on his plate. Also, her cooking was sublime – which was more than could be said of Marcus's.
“I still can't believe the only person in the world you're scared of is my tiny grandma. I've told you: just 'cause she wears black, she's not a ninja.”
“That's not been proven. She can still reach the back of your head to give you a smack even though she's half your size. It's a mystery.”
Marcus shot Esca a meaningful sideways look, and Esca rolled his eyes and prodded Marcus in the ribs, right in the spot where he knew Marcus was ticklish. Marcus backed out of reach with a chuckle, then held out his hands, wrists turned up.
“Will you do my cufflinks for me, lupino?”
Esca gave him a fond smile, and picked the tiny silver eagles – family heirlooms Marcus's father had given him - out of the little blue velveteen box on the mantelpiece. He worked the barrel through the buttonholes and clipped the hinge-pin into place, slipping his fingertips beneath the cuff and along the sensitive skin at the underside of Marcus's wrist. Marcus was looking down at him intently.
“Is that a man-purse,” he asked with a quirked eyebrow, leaning back for a better look.
“You're so funny,” Esca said, tossing Marcus his jacket and gesturing for him to hurry. “It's a sporran, and I've also got a dirk tucked away in my belt, so watch your mouth.”
“A dirk? Is that what all the cool kids are calling it these days?”
“Oh wow, it's lucky for you you're so pretty,” Esca said, patting Marcus on the cheek. “Come on, big man. We have to get going. Cat'll kill me if I turn up later than her. It'll be bad enough if she notices that Lee's off his tits.”
Marcus looked up from where he was tucking his corsage into the buttonhole of his jacket.
“Never mind. We have to go now,” Esca said, making his way towards the door, pulling Marcus along with him.
“Hey, wait a moment,” Marcus said softly, and he pulled back on Esca's hand. Esca turned, resisting for a moment, then he saw the look on Marcus's face and allowed himself to be tugged closer.
Marcus had an unconscious habit of doing this-- this thing that drove Esca completely crazy, where he'd look down at the floor with a stupid, adorable half-smile, then look up at him again from under his lashes, like he was shy or something, then it'd change into this intense look that cut right into Esca, rushing through him to coil at the base of his spine and leaving him hard with want.
Marcus did exactly that right now, and then blushed – actually fucking blushed– before murmuring,
“You look-- You look really good, okay?”
Esca smiled a little self-consciously and ran his thumbs down Marcus's lapels in appreciation. He liked how the cut of the jacket made Marcus's broad shoulders look even wider, nipping him in at the waist.
“So do you,” he said on an exhalation, brushing a finger over the soft petals of the corsage, and what he meant was that he thought Marcus looked fucking gorgeous, that he wanted to push him up against the nearest wall, rip the damned suit off him and bite him all over. Through the fabric of the jacket, he felt Marcus's heartbeat pick up, his pulse vibrating under Esca's fingertips.
“No, I mean it,” Marcus paused then stepped in a little closer, sliding his hands down to fit them around Esca's hips, and there was that blush on his cheeks again. “I like it. A lot.”
“Ohh. I see,” Esca said, his smile deepening as little flutters and pinpricks ran along his nerves at this particular revelation. He reached up and cupped Marcus face in his hands and kissed him softly, not letting him deepen the kiss, keeping it on the edge of chaste with tentative flickers of his tongue across Marcus's lips that he knew would only get Marcus worked up and leave him wanting more. He pulled back and said, “So, you like the kilt.”
Marcus shook his head.
“No,” he said, his lips against Esca's cheek. “No. I like you in the kilt.”
Esca gave him a long, lingering look, then tugged him towards the door without another word. From up the corridor, he could hear Cat shrieking, “I'm getting maaarriiiied,” followed by squealing from her bridesmaids, and wondered if everyone in the entire house had been dosed-up with Lady Selkoe's crazy pills except him.
They'd just finished the main course, and the dishes were being cleared away while Esca was deep in conversation with Lee's ancient auntie, Morag. He was politely listening to her passionately expound the merits of Celtic F.C., beating her gnarled fist on the table for emphasis, when he felt the tablecloth flick up against his knee, and Marcus slipped his hand under the hem of Esca's kilt, his grip warm as it ran up Esca's thigh. Esca tensed and said,
“Excuse me for a moment,” very sweetly to Auntie Morag, before he turned to Marcus and caught hold of him by the wrist.
“What are you doing?”
“I, uh,” Marcus muttered, looking uncomfortably aroused rather than guilty.
“Are you trying to feel me up at the dinner table?”
Esca looked at Marcus narrowly for a moment, when a sudden feeling of calm descended on him, spreading through his limbs like the cool, silky feel of ice-cream on his tongue. He'd had to keep a firm hand on the controls of everything for most of the day, wound-up about making sure that the wedding went without a hitch, and he'd been too preoccupied with everything else to pay attention to what Marcus needed from him. Marcus certainly had his attention now. Nothing else in the room existed for Esca in that moment, as he watched the way Marcus's pupils pulsed then dilated wide, hemmed in by the green rim of his irises, the raw need in his eyes laid bare. One of the many things Esca loved about Marcus was that he was so guilelessly open about his desire. Esca could see the tension running throughout his body, how he was barely keeping himself in check, and when his tongue flicked out to wet his lips, Esca could resist no longer, and leaned in close to Marcus's ear.
“Listen to me," Esca said, his voice quiet and firm. "This is what's going to happen. We are going to finish our dinner, then I am going to give my speech, which includes a slideshow of some truly embarrassing photos of Lee.”
“Oh shit, you haven't got that one of him dressed up as Braveheart from when he was a kid, have you?”
“Yeah, and I've got the one of him dressed as Pocahontas from Rag Week as well. I wouldn't be much use as a best man if I didn't show off the most humiliating moments of the groom's life, would I. Everyone will think it's hilarious – ha ha – more champagne – toasts – cheering, et cetera. Then, we are going to dance.”
“No way. I can't do Scottish dancing. Any other kind of dancing, but not that.”
“Yes, you can, and you will, and you'll do your best not to grind all over me on the dancefloor. After that, we are going to make a token effort at polite conversation, then say goodnight to everyone, and you are going to come upstairs with me to our room.” Esca leaned in closer, and rested a hand against Marcus's waist. He kept the pressure of his fingers light and steady, and dropped his voice lower. “And then I want you to bend me over, get down on your knees, and lick me open.”
Esca felt the sudden heat against his face as Marcus's cheeks flushed, and couldn't stop himself from grinning as Marcus dug his fingers into Esca's thigh and made a shaky gasping sound. He knew that Marcus was hanging by a thread, so he tilted his head, nipped at the skin behind Marcus's ear, and delivered his final blow in a whisper,
“Then you are going to fuck me as hard as you can. Got that?”
“Jesus,” Marcus choked out. Esca glanced down and saw the outline of Marcus's cock twitch beneath the white linen napkin spread over his lap.
“You're hard, aren't you,” Esca said, trying not to smirk.
Marcus let go of Esca's leg and grabbed him by the arm, hissing into his ear, his voice broken and hoarse.
“Esca, I'm so fucking hard for you right now that my dick is wet, okay? I'm so close that-- oh my god, you can't even begin to imagine what the fuck this is doing to me--”
“You're not going to come,” Esca whispered, very quiet, very sure, even as all the blood in his body rushed straight down the length of his cock in a dizzying throb. “You hear me? You are not. Going. to. Come. Not until I say so.”
He prised Marcus's hand off his arm, laced their fingers together, and held on tight, waiting for the tremors he could feel shaking through Marcus's muscles subside, and trying his best to keep his own composure, rather than clambering onto Marcus's lap, dragging him to the floor, and getting arrested at his best friend's wedding for lewd behaviour.
“Are you all right, laddie?”
Auntie Morag was peering at him suspiciously over the top of her spectacles.
“Great, thank you,” Esca said breezily, shifting in his chair and blithely ignoring the way his cock was chafing against the rough tweed bunched in his lap. He really hoped that she hadn't had the volume turned up high on her hearing aid.
“So, come on, it's been nearly three years. Are you two going to be next?”
Out of the corner of his eye, Esca watched as Marcus bit his lip and looked at the floor, and went pink right to the tips of his ears, shrugging his shoulders.
Esca gave Lee an affectionate whack on the shoulder, and said,
“I'm going outside for a smoke.”
Then he darted quickly out of the back door and escaped into the quiet air of the summer night.
“Hi,” Esca said, releasing a long stream of smoke.
“Hey,” Marcus said. He sounded breathless.
Marcus didn't answer. The set of his shoulders became purposeful and he walked right up to Esca, plucked the cigarette out from between his fingers and dropped it into the bucket of sand that was serving as an ashtray. He was doing that thing again, looking at Esca coyly from under his long eyelashes, like he wanted Esca so badly he didn't even know what to do about it.
“I hadn't finished that,” Esca protested, raising his brows indignantly.
Marcus crooked a smile then dipped his head and kissed Esca hard and deep, wrapping his hands round Esca's waist and sliding his tongue into his mouth. Esca could taste the hunger in him, feel it in the insistent roll of his hips, and arched up, hooking a hand round the back of Marcus's neck and pulling him closer. When Marcus drew back he was breathing hard, and ran his hands down from Esca's waist, sending shivers up Esca's spine, until he rested his palms warm and open against Esca's hips, his fingers stroking up and down against the coarse weave of his kilt. If Esca had been in any doubt before about what was getting Marcus so worked up, he was certain of the cause when Marcus swallowed hard and said thickly,
“So, I kind of have to ask. You wearing anything under that?”
“Nope,” Esca said with a sly grin.
Marcus pressed his forehead against Esca's with a groan.
“Aw, man, you're killing me here.”
Esca huffed a laugh into Marcus's neck. This was just too, too easy. He furtively checked the area around them to ensure that they were alone, then squared his shoulders back and looked up into Marcus's eyes, cocking his head.
“You want to see?”
At that, Marcus squeezed Esca's hips hard enough to leave bruises through the fabric.
“Fuck, yeah,” he growled at the back of his throat.
Esca pushed at him until he reluctantly moved back and gave Esca a little more room, then Esca leaned back against the balustrade, pushed the sporran out of the way and spread his legs a little, feeling a blood-warm pulse along his cock. He'd been half-hard since Marcus had tried to grope him at dinner, and now the full flush of arousal made him go rigid from root to tip. Esca worked the kilt up his thighs slowly, creeping the wool up with his fingers, watching the agony of desire on Marcus's face as he revealed inch after inch of bare skin. He'd only lifted it about halfway before Marcus was crowding back against him, pressing a hand against the middle of his chest and gasping into his ear,
“Fuck, fuck, Esca, c'mon. Gimme some more, you fucking tease.”
Esca pulled back and looked into Marcus's face, holding him still with the force of his stare, but he could feel the desperation in the way that Marcus clenched his fist into the front of his waistcoat, and when he heard the little, low whine at the back of Marcus's throat, he pulled the kilt up all the way and let his cock jut out, exposed to the cool night air.
Marcus took an unsteady step back, his heated gaze raking the length of him, his jaw set hard like it was too much for him to take in.
“Marcus,” Esca said, tipping his head up, “I want you to--”
But Marcus had already dropped to his knees, fitting his hands over the prints he had already left on Esca's hips. Esca drew in a shaky breath as Marcus opened the full, pillowed swell of his lips, then slid his mouth down around Esca's girth, taking him deep, taking him in all the way down into sweet, wet heat.
Esca braced himself against the balustrade, clutching the kilt around his waist, and tilted his hips up with a moan,
“Marcus, your fucking mouth.”
He hitched the fabric of the kilt into one hand, so that he could cup the other round the back of Marcus's head, stroking his fingers along the nape of his neck. Marcus drew back along the length of Esca's cock, cheeks hollowing as he sucked and tongued the slit at the head. The way his long eyelashes fanned out over his cheekbones, so soft, so delicately vulnerable made Esca's knees go weak, and he gasped for air, when suddenly there was a tell-tale swell in the volume of the music and the sound of voices as the door opened again.
“Quick,” Esca hissed, tugging at the back of Marcus's collar. “Get up!”
Marcus staggered to his feet, and Esca let his kilt drop, trying his best to smooth the front of it over the swell of his erection, and gritting his teeth as the wool scratched indelicately against his oversensitive skin.
“There he is,” cried Lee's mother Fionna – she of the generously given pharmaceuticals - teetering over towards them with Doug in tow, twirling a glass of champagne in one of her elegant hands. “I just wanted to thank you for everything. You are the very best best man my bonny boy could have,” she said, and landed a smacking kiss on Esca's cheek.
“Eh, it was nothing,” Esca said with a smile and an awkward shrug. Marcus was faring slightly better, smiling and making small-talk with Doug like he hadn't had Esca's dick balls-deep at the back of his throat a moment before, and completely unaware that the knees of his suit trousers were covered in gravel dust. Esca leaned in to him and muttered,
Marcus blinked, then stammered their excuses like he was trying to flounder his way to shore against a particularly vicious current; he turned to grin at Esca like he'd won a great victory. Esca resisted the urge to ninja the back of Marcus's head, and instead slipped an arm round his waist and gave him a squeeze, steering him through the ballroom and towards the wide wooden staircase before they could be accosted by anyone else.
When they finally got to the door of their room, Esca flung it wide, then had most of the air knocked out of him as Marcus bundled his arms round Esca's waist, heaving him up off the floor and trying to get him into some sort of improvised fireman's lift. Esca struggled and thrashed, bracing himself against Marcus's shoulders and snarling,
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“Carrying you over the threshold,” Marcus said gleefully, as Esca felt his kilt starting to ride up his thighs, helped on its way by one of Marcus's big hands.
“No you fucking don't. Put me down.”
He wormed his hand under Marcus's arm until he found that particular sensitive spot on his ribcage, wriggling his fingers against it without pity until Marcus squirmed and had to drop him. He kept hold of him, though, driving him through the doorway with his arms still wrapped round him, growling into his ear,
“You fight dirty.”
“Well, what did you expect,” Esca said with a wolfish grin. “You know the rule is no lifting unless you're fucking me up against a wall.” He stuck his foot out behind them to kick the door shut, and got his hands round Marcus's throat, yanking off his tie. “You're lucky I didn't bite your face.”
Marcus's nostrils flared at that, his face reddening at the mere suggestion of Esca being rough with him, before his expression grew fond, and he rubbed hard at Esca's cheek with his thumb.
“Lipstick,” Marcus shrugged, his eyes crinkling as he smiled. “Been letting strange women kiss you again, huh?”
“Eccentric. Not strange.”
Marcus dipped his head and kissed at the same spot near Esca's jaw. Esca felt his lips part and Marcus grazed his teeth slowly, deliberately against the skin, giving him the tiniest little nip that sent heat right into the depths of Esca's bones. It was just about as much as he could take. He reversed their positions and slammed Marcus against the back of the door, cupped a hand between his legs and ran the heel of his hand down the swell of Marcus's cock in a long, slow slide.
Marcus threw his head back, and Esca went up onto his toes to bite at the long line of his thick neck, mauling the skin with his teeth and tongue, needing to leave his own mark on him. Marcus made a little 'ah!' sound and bucked his hips as Esca scraped his thumbnail along the clothed length of Marcus's cock, feeling it pulse and throb through his trousers.
“Stay there,” Esca said, and stepped back, shrugging off his jacket.
He managed to unfasten his sporran and get the dirk out of his belt before Marcus couldn't keep still any longer and lunged forwards, dragging him across the room and pushing him face down onto the heavy oak table between the windows with a hand to the back of his neck. Esca sort of wondered if the table was going to be up to this. It was an antique, some kind of Jacobean monstrosity, judging by the barley-twist legs and dark, pitted patina of the wood that Esca caught a glimpse of as his face was shoved against it. Then, he really couldn't give even the slightest fuck if it was absolutely priceless and used to belong to the Stuart dynasty itself, because Marcus was leaning over him and pushing the kilt up round his waist, all deep shuddery breaths against Esca's ear as he ran his hands across the swell of Esca's ass, fingers digging in and spreading him apart. Marcus went completely quiet, and Esca knew he was looking at him, looking at the way Esca's clothes were rucked up around him, the way he was laid bare and open under Marcus's eyes. It sent thrills across Esca's skin, and he felt too hot, sweat prickling out over his whole body.
“Marcus,” he said, very quietly.
As though Esca had given him a command, Marcus moved instantly. There was none of the usual preamble, no sweet kisses or teasing bites. Marcus simply went to the floor, buried his face between Esca's cheeks, and thrust his tongue into him as deep as he could.
Esca clenched at the suddenness of it, the heat and slickness inside him wringing a gasp out of his lungs. He rose onto the balls of his feet and rocked back against Marcus's mouth, arching his spine up and bracing his weight on his hands as he gripped at the edges of the table, fucking himself on Marcus's tongue.
He heard the soft rustling of fabric, and craned his head over his shoulder to see Marcus stripping off his jacket, unbuttoning his shirt and easing it off over his wrists, wriggling against the restriction of the cufflinks. Marcus flicked his tongue inside him, working him open, and Esca's vision blurred for a moment. He shook his head to clear it, watching as Marcus unzipped his trousers, tugging them down over his thighs. His cock was one long, hard ridge angling right up to the waistband of his white briefs. Esca sucked the air in between his teeth when he saw the wide spot of darker fabric around Marcus's cockhead, how wet he was, just like he'd said. He wanted to seal his mouth over the head of Marcus's dick and suck and suck, tasting the salt of him, until Marcus came through the thin layer of cotton, shuddering against Esca's lapping tongue.
Marcus took his mouth away only for a moment to pull his undershirt off over his head, and Esca reached back behind him to brush Marcus's cheek. All it took was the light pressure of Esca's fingers against the side of Marcus's neck before he leaned in again with a moan, spearing the point of his tongue into Esca's hole. Esca arched his back and cried out, pushing his hips against Marcus's hands, wanting more of the maddening slide of his tongue. He was fucking soaking, sloppy and open and so wet that he could feel it running down his balls, down the backs of his thighs, and Marcus didn't stop, just stretched him wider with his thumbs and licked deeper, deeper.
“Fuck, Marcus,” Esca groaned, and this time it was an order as much as it was a plea.
There was a sharp tug around his waist as Marcus stood up, bunching the fabric of the kilt into his hands, and he hauled Esca up by his belt and slid him along the table, nudging his thighs further apart. Esca's breathing grew shallow and he scrabbled for purchase on the floor with the tips of his toes. His ribs were grinding against the hard surface of the table with every breath, his skin stuck to the polished surface, his belt pressed up into the softness of his belly. His whole body became a long, tight line of anticipation as he waited for Marcus to strip off the rest of his clothes, tugging off shoes and socks and kicking off his trousers and briefs. Esca shivered as he felt the heat of Marcus's breath on the back of his neck, and felt him rest one hand at the cleft of his ass, holding him open, testing him gently with his thumb. He snarled impatiently,
“I'm wet enough. Do it.”
Marcus chuckled and swept his other hand up the dip of Esca's spine, soothing and thrilling at once. Esca took a breath and held it as he felt the warmth of Marcus's thighs against his, the provocative nudge of slick, hot flesh at his entrance, and as Marcus pushed the full length of his cock into him in one long, slow slide, Esca bared his teeth and slammed his head against the table, because it felt so fucking good he could hardly stand it.
Marcus spread out on top of him, laying his chest to Esca's back and biting down on one of his shoulders as he drove his cock into him deep. Usually Marcus was so careful, gentle, mindful of his size and strength, and Esca had to growl at him, tell him he wanted it harder, faster. But this time he was pressing Esca against the table with all his weight so Esca could hardly breathe, his hands clamped on Esca's wrists to hold him down as he shoved into him. Esca sucked enough air into his lungs to grunt,
“Yeah, like that. Fucking do me like you mean it.”
Esca knew all the ways to break him, how to make Marcus moan like a fucking slut for him, and lose every last scrap of his control until he was shaking and had his legs spread wide and his eyes screwed shut and he was begging Esca, 'Please, please, fuck me, Esca. Fuck my ass. Fuck it,' in a breathy whisper. But if Esca had known that all it would take to make Marcus this aggressive, make him this savage with need, biting at Esca's neck and fucking into him without mercy, was to wear a bit of plaid around his hips, he'd have done it years ago.
He was close. He was so close that his whole body screamed with it. The wool of the kilt was scratchy and hot against the length of his cock where it lay trapped against the hard surface of the table, and it was only getting him more worked up, making him itchy with need.
“Fuck, Marcus, yeah, that's good.”
Marcus worked his head into the crook of Esca's neck, nudging against his cheek and seeking out his mouth. Esca twisted as much as he could with Marcus's weight bearing down on him, and forced his lips against Marcus's in a kiss that was little more than an awkward, desperate slide of their tongues over one other.
“I want to see you,” Marcus said, and the awed hush of his voice was so at odds with the animalistic rut of his hips that Esca shivered. Marcus drew back, easing out of him and giving him just enough room so that Esca could flip onto his back.
Esca breathed hard for a moment, chest heaving as he pulled himself back from the edge, and he lifted his chin up and gave Marcus a slow, filthy smile. Marcus looked absolutely wrecked. His eyes were half-lidded, and his full, plush mouth was wet and parted as he gasped for air. His cheeks were pink and his broad shoulders and chest shone with sweat. Esca wanted that slick, muscled skin all up against his right now.
His shirt was stuck to him in the heat, and Esca set his jaw and worked at the buttons on his waistcoat with grim determination. Marcus caught on straight away, and tried to unpick the laces on Esca's ghillies, before he gave up and just yanked them off Esca's feet. He looked completely baffled by the garter ties holding up Esca's socks.
“Fucking leave them,” Esca growled, ripping his shirt off over his head and kicking his legs free from Marcus's grip. He lifted them up so he could cross his ankles round the back of Marcus's neck, fumbling between his thighs to guide Marcus back inside him with a hitching moan. His kilt had pooled against his hips, covering up his cock, and he was about to yank it out of the way when Marcus stopped him with a hand to each wrist.
“Please,” Marcus whispered, like it hurt him to say it aloud.
Esca dropped his arms by his sides, hanging on to the edges of the table, baring his teeth again as he tried to hold still and allow Marcus to have this. He could feel Marcus trembling against him as he thumbed under the edge of the fabric, rolling his cock into him in erratic, shallow thrusts that jolted every one of Esca's nerves. The pads of Marcus's fingers felt hot as they snagged against Esca's skin where it was softest, stroking reverently into the shallow dips that ran down from each of his sharp hipbones. It was Marcus's turn to be a tease, though Esca wondered if he even knew it, as he slid Esca's kilt up, up, his mouth dropping into a silent 'oh' as he bunched the wool into his fists, fold by fold, baring Esca's cock tantalisingly slowly.
Esca was swearing blue murder in his head, unable to speak. Each rough caress of the wool against the quivering length of his cock was driving him half mad, and the only thing that kept him from barking at Marcus to fucking move right now, fucking make him come, was the knowledge that this was making Marcus twice as crazy as him.
Marcus pushed the last of the fabric out of the way and went completely still, simply looking at him for a moment. Even his chest had stopped moving as he drew in his breath and flicked his tongue out to wet his lips. Esca held out as long as he could, letting Marcus get his fill, before he felt the last thread of his patience fray apart, and reached between his legs. He ran one finger up the length of his cock, riding out the surge of electric shivers that made his shaft twitch upwards as he reached the red tip, catching a drop of clear liquid as it welled up out of him, and watched as Marcus shattered to pieces.
Marcus heaved a breath, his brows drawing down as though he was in pain. He crushed the kilt into his hands and hooked his fingers into Esca's belt, using it to jerk Esca towards him and slam into him, gulping down a fractured sob. Esca felt something like triumph run through his veins, but it was tempered with something else, something fragile and innocent that made him whisper Marcus's name over and over again.
The table underneath them creaked, shifting across the floor incrementally with every shove of Marcus's hips. He splayed a broad hand on the back of each of Esca's thighs and pushed down, bending him in half and leaning over him, tonguing at his nipples, lips warm and soft over the responsive skin. Esca tilted his hips up and the angle of Marcus's cock inside him was just right. He dug his fingers into the swell of Marcus's biceps, spikes of pleasure like knives in his blood. Marcus wrenched one arm free and wrapped a hand round his cock, jacking him hard, the clench of his fist slippery with Esca's precome, and Esca threw his head back and keened.
He ground his ass down on Marcus's dick, feeling himself pulse and tighten and shake until the table rattled. He grabbed Marcus by the hair and grunted, “Yeah, yeah, that's it. Come on.” Marcus set his jaw and strained against him, shaking with the effort. A low, guttural moan wrenched out from Esca's lips, warm pulses of come spurting out of him so hard they spattered up over his belly and chest and soaked pale stripes into the wool of his kilt.
“Now,” Esca said through gritted teeth.“Marcus, now. Come for me.”
He pulled Marcus down close against him, wrapping his arms round him, kissing his jaw, his ear, nibbling at the ridge of his browbone, as Marcus shuddered and shuddered and spread Esca's thighs wide, ramming his cock into him. He brokenly sighed Esca's name in a low, whispery breath and turned his head to meet Esca's lips in a frantic kiss. Esca felt the first warm gush up inside him and gasped, biting at Marcus's lips. With a heave of his muscles, Marcus pulled back and slid out of him, propping himself up shakily onto his hands and looking down between their bodies. Esca lifted his hips with a moan as Marcus rutted against him once, twice, streaking come across his thighs and cock and rubbing it all over the front of his kilt.
Esca lay very still, breathing hard as Marcus hovered over him, and they shared a slow, lazy smile. He felt deliciously fucked-out, a low spreading warmth seeping throughout all his muscles. Esca reached up and pressed his fingers against Marcus's mouth, then touched them to the centre of his chest in a silent instruction. Marcus grinned, then dipped his head and ran his tongue across Esca's ribs, up his sternum and over his nipples, lapping come and sweat off his skin. Drowsily, Esca brushed his fingers over the crest of Marcus's shoulders, scraping his nails lightly over the freckled skin he liked so much. Marcus bent lower, pressing close against him again, when Esca suddenly felt him jump and draw back with a small noise when his belly touched against Esca's kilt.
“Shit,” Esca said, looking up at Marcus with a laugh. He plucked at the sopping wet mess of fabric inelegantly draped around him and pursed his lips. “This thing's on hire.”
“So, are we next, then?”
Marcus snuffled, his face buried in Esca's chest, already half-asleep. Esca watched with a small smile as one green eye opened a crack and wavered, unfocused.
“You. Me. Next,” Esca said, scrubbing his fingers gently into Marcus's shower-damp hair. “I'm not going down on one knee.”
Marcus opened his eye wider, and Esca's smile broadened as he saw the realisation dawning on him. Marcus propped himself up on one elbow, looking a little dazed, before he shook his head and grinned with amusement.
“Wow, Esca. That's got to be, like, the crankiest proposal ever. I feel so special, thanks.”
Esca picked up one of the pillows from behind his head and smushed it over Marcus's face. Marcus was pissing himself laughing, so Esca tackled him to the bed, pinning his arms by his sides.
“Is that a yes, or a no,” Esca asked, watching him intently.
“Oh my god, it's a yes, okay, don't kill me,” Marcus said, still laughing. Then Esca saw his expression change, how his smile became something broken and joyful.
He was all Esca ever wanted.
“Yes,” Marcus said huskily, and the word was heavy and light in the air between them. Esca bent his head and kissed him, claimed him as his own with sweet and gentle touches of his tongue, his lips. He pressed closer, feeling how their hearts fluttered a pulse in tandem, softly vibrating against his ribcage. Marcus broke away from him to chuckle at his ear,
“But if you wear a kilt, I'm warning you now, no amount of smacks from my nonna – or from you - are gonna stop me from getting really, really dirty with you in front of everyone.”
“Oh, really,” Esca said, settling against Marcus's shoulder with a broad grin. “We'll have to see about that now, won't we?”
A/N I chose the name 'Selkoe' because it was the closest I could get to 'selkie' (seal).
*"lupino"= little wolf