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Reply to Lucy

Posted to the Rareslash mailing list June 1, 2001

Title: "Whatever"
Author/pseudonym: Lucy
Fandom: The Forsaken.
Pairing: Sean/Nick, Nick/OMC.
Rating: NC-17.
Status: New, complete.
Archive: No.
E-mail address for feedback:
Series/Sequel: None.
Other website:
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Sean's good at paying attention, but not to everything - especially not when it comes to Nick.
Warnings: Not beta'd. Just felt the need to write some sex, and I'm still working my way up to that blood-letting fic I know I'll write for these two, one of these days. This is rather rough, but I have a taste for rough. Still enjoying having a fandom of my very own. :)

        ". . .so I figured I'd just go out in the parking lot and set myself on fire, and see if that does it."

        "Uh-huh." It took a full minute for Nick's words to actually sink in to Sean's distracted brain; when he did, he turned his head to look at his travelling companion. "What?"

        Nick was methodically making his way through a massive plate of fries, complete with half a bottle of ketchup and an equally liberal dose of salt. He grinned at Sean, licking a spot of ketchup from the corner of his mouth. "Just checking to see if you were listening to me. Where were you just now, anyway?"

        Sean shook his head, mildly annoyed. "That guy - " he said.

        "What guy?" Nick craned his neck, looking around. They'd gotten used - over-used, perhaps - to looking out for each other's back while on the road. It wasn't as though there were Forsaken lurking around every corner, but, then again, they didn't really _know_ that there weren't.

        "Don't look," Sean hissed at him.

        "Well, how will I know which guy if I don't look?" Nick grinned, again, stabbing more fries.

        "Look, but don't _look_ like you're looking." Sean nodded over at a corner booth. "He's been staring at you ever since we came in."

        Nick looked, without seeming too obvious, to Sean's relief. The guy didn't look anything out of the ordinary - leather jacket, worn denim jeans, biker boots, a couple of tattoos on his neck - but he'd been rather intent in his attention towards Nick ever since they'd walked in. Nick, as usual, was oblivious; Sean wondered how he'd survived all that time before they hooked up.

        He also wondered if there was some sort of homing device the brethren gave off - if this guy _was_ Forsaken, or another victim, and he somehow just innately knew Nick was, too.

        "Don't worry about it," Nick said, to Sean's surprise, and dumped even more ketchup on his plate.

        Sean frowned. "How can you be so - ?"

        "I said, don't worry about it. I'm sure it's nothing," Nick said. He continued to eat.

        Sean just shrugged and bit into his burger. "Okay, whatever," he said, around a mouthful of food, suddenly feeling overly paranoid. "Just trying to keep my eyes open."

        "That's a good thing," Nick smiled at him. "Keep doing that." He finished off the last of his fries and nodded over at Sean's still half-full plate. "You gonna finish that?"

        Sean rolled his eyes and shoved over the plate. Nick's ability to demolish whatever food was in his vicinity never ceased to amaze him, especially since it didn't seem to ever show up on Nick's body anywhere. He wondered if _that_ was part of the vampire curse, too - super-human metabolism to go along with the eventual craving for blood. In any case, he'd gotten used to ordering more food than he could finish, because Nick always took care of the excess. It just seemed like the guy was _always_ hungry. As long as his appetite stayed on the path of normal food, though, Sean considered himself lucky. Once or twice, he thought he'd caught Nick staring at his neck a little too long - mostly when Sean was driving, when Nick thought Sean wasn't paying attention to his passenger, when Sean assumed he was asleep. It unnerved the fuck out of him to realize that Nick was awake and staring silently at him through his sunglasses, although he never brought it up; Nick was his friend, and he was sure the guy would never do anything to him - not deliberately, anyway. And, if it came right down to it, he knew how to fight Forsaken now, and win.

        Thanks to Nick.

        Nick finished his food - and the rest of Sean's - before Sean even got through his burger. Satisfied, he leaned back in the booth and belched loudly, rubbing his stomach.

        "Nice," Sean said, with mock-disgust, but Nick just grinned at him, again.

        "Gotta take a leak," he said, and stood up. "Order me some dessert next time Tracy comes by, would you?"

        "What kind d'you want?"

        Nick shrugged. "Surprise me."

        "Right." Two bites later, Sean finally finished his burger, at the point of being a little grossed-out by it when he was done. There was something about places like this, which served everything dripping in fat and burgers that were as big as his head - he was sure, once they finished this trip, that he'd never again be able to face a road-side diner.

        "You want anything else?" The bored teen-aged waitress - who, Sean was surprised to realize, really was named "Tracy," from the tag on her uniform - picked up the empty plates. Nick always noticed name tags, for some reason, and place names, and road signs - all the stuff that Sean never paid any attention to. It wasn't like they'd ever be _back_ to any of these places, so why bother?

        "What kind of pie do you have?" he asked.

        "Cherry, peach, apple, blueberry, coconut and chocolate cream." It all came out in a monotonous stream, speaking of the thousands of times a day she'd probably repeated the same list. "Ice cream's a buck extra."

        "Gimme a cherry and an apple, with ice cream."

        "You want that heated?"

        "Yeah, sure."

        "Be right back," she said.

        Sean picked up his soda and swirled the straw through melting ice and watery Coke, idly wondering what was taking Nick so long in the bathroom. He hoped that the grease overload hadn't finally caught up with him, when a sight caught out of the corner of his eye made him start, suddenly.

        It was what he _didn't_ see that gave him cause for alarm: The booth diagonally opposite theirs was empty. The booth that had previously held the guy so intent on watching Nick. The guy's leather jacket was still in the booth, though, as was half of his meal.

        "Shit," Sean said, just as Tracy returned with dessert.

        "Something wrong?" she asked, still managing to sound bored as she did so.

        "That guy - the guy who was sitting over there," Sean pointed to the now-empty booth. "Did you see where he went?"

        "Men's room, I think," Tracy said.

        Sean jumped up and whipped around her before she could say anything else, headed straight for the men's room, which was down a narrow corridor at the back of the diner. He was relieved that it was more than a single room, because that meant the outer door didn't lock. He pushed the door open, almost running face-first into a guy who was just exiting.

        There were three stalls opposite the urinals, the first two empty. The third was a handicapped stall, slightly wider than the other two, and the door was shut, but Nick could see two sets of feet underneath the door. Nick approached, as quietly as he could and without saying anything; he wanted to get the jump on the guy in there with Nick.

        A sudden noise made him stop, though - it echoed in the large-ish room, and Sean knew instantly what it was: a zipper being opened.

        It was followed by a moan.

        He still had a healthy appetite, but Nick wasn't the most sound sleeper. One of the side-effects of the virus were the nightmares and extra-vivid dreams that he sometimes recalled for Sean after he woke up in a cold sweat. As a result, Sean was familiar with the sound of Nick moaning. This sound had nothing to do with distress or pain, though. It was pleased, hungry - demanding.

        Whatever that moan meant he wanted, it seemed like the guy in the booth with him was prepared to give it to him. Sean crept closer, knowing he shouldn't stay - should go back out to the diner and eat his dessert and get the fuck out of _here_, but he couldn't make himself leave.

        There was a sudden, loud smack of flesh against the closed stall door, and Nick's jeans slid down around his ankles, clearly visible from where Sean was standing. He didn't know how the hell they expected to get away with this - anyone could just walk in, at any time, and find them. He'd _already_ walked in, for fuck's sake, but they obviously hadn't heard him, mistaking the sound of the door closing for the other patron leaving - or if they knew he was in there, they didn't care.

        Sean crept a little closer, putting his hand on the closed door, careful to keep his feet away from where they could be seen from the inside of the stall. The next sound made him jump away, though - an almost-pained groan, again from Nick, and then a near-whispered "yeah. Like that." There was a sudden intake of breath, and a torn condom wrapper fluttered down to the floor, landing right by Nick's boot.

        Sean realized suddenly that he was holding his breath. They were fucking, now, just inches away from him, Nick and this nameless guy; he could _hear_ them, could almost smell the scent of sweat and sex around the odor of stale piss and faint detergent that filled the room. He reached his hand forward, again, pressing it against the cool metal of the door, imagining Nick's hands on the other side of it, half an inch away - Nick's hands pressed desperately against that door just to hold himself up while this guy fucked him, leaving his sweaty hand-prints over ages of scrawled phone numbers and filthy jokes. And, somewhere lower, his cock was pushed against that door, over and over again, heated length rubbing against it, smearing its own pattern of sweat and pre-come on the peeling paint. Or maybe the guy was jerking him off, thumb rubbing over the head of Nick's cock again and again, taunting him with the possibility of release, only to take it away again, unwilling to let him come first.

        Sean shoved a hand down the front of his own jeans, shifting his own over-sensitive cock. He didn't dare unzip his pants and jerk himself off, afraid that would make too much noise - although the sound of the vigorous fucking going on in the stall was enough to drown out just about anything else. They wouldn't be _able_ to stop if anyone else came in, there was no way. Sean found himself praying that nobody would.

        The whole encounter didn't last more than four minutes, from the time Sean walked into the room to the warning "unghhh" the nameless guy gave just before he came, followed a couple of seconds later by Nick, who gave a slightly louder, slightly longer response, the door rocking a little under his weight. Sean stood there, stunned and immobile, for just another second, before he realized he had to get out of there, still half-hard and with no hope of release, not without getting caught. And he didn't want to get caught.

        Sean eased through the door, silent again, passing by another man in the hallway on his way into the bathroom. He wondered if the smell of fucking was as strong in there as he imagined it to be, if either Nick or his companion had time to exit the stall, or if they'd be caught in there until after this new guy left. He wondered if the guy would notice the four feet under the stall.

        He sat down in the booth to two pieces of pie, now surrounded by a melted mass of vanilla ice cream. Thirty seconds later, the guy in the opposite booth - the anonymous guy who'd just fucked Nick - walked up to his table, dropped down a twenty for his half-eaten lunch, picked up his leather jacket, and exited the diner. He looked back just before he pushed open the door, giving Sean a lingering glance and the faintest trace of a smile, and then he was gone.

        Nick walked out a minute later and slid into his seat, rubbing his freshly-washed hands together. His hair was damp, spiked up in the front and Sean knew he'd run his fingers through it in front of the bathroom mirror before he came out. "Fuck," he said, picking up a spoonful of melted vanilla cream and a chunk of pie. "What _is_ this?"

        "Cherry pie a la mode," Sean replied, automatically. "It melted while you were in there."

        "It looks gross," Nick said, shoveling the spoonful into his mouth, nevertheless. "You didn't have to wait for me to start."

        Sean just shrugged, and picked up his own spoon. There was no point in trying to eat the melted mass with a fork. "You want something else?"

        "Nah. This looks like someone threw it up, but it tastes good." Sean made a disgusted noise at the rather vivid analogy, and Nick looked pleased. "So," he added, "how far do you think we can get today?"

        "I don't know," Sean said. "I thought maybe we could just stay here tonight."

        Nick frowned. "Why?"

        "I'm tired," Sean said. "Don't feel like driving any more today. It isn't like we've got a new lead to follow up, anyway."

        "I could drive for a while."

        "Just because I'm tired doesn't mean I'm tired of _living_," Sean said, pointedly. "You're a maniac behind the wheel." Nick grinned at him, but didn't argue the point they both knew was true. "There's a motel right across the road."

        Nick shrugged, and licked off his spoon, cleaning it thoroughly with his tongue. "Okay, whatever. I could sleep."

        "I figured," Sean said, quietly.

        Nick frowned at him, and then slowly grinned. He finished off his melted dessert and leaned back again, in the booth, rubbing his stomach. "You ready to go?" he asked.

        "Uh-huh," Sean said, catching the eye of their waitress and waving her over.

        "Can I get you guys anything else?"

        "Just the check's fine," Sean said.

        She ripped it off her pad and Sean picked it up. He dropped down a handful of bills and looked at Nick. "Let's go," he said.


        Nick slouched into the car, leaning up against the passenger door like he usually did, sunglasses on and staring at Sean behind them. Sean didn't say a word as he pulled the car across the highway and into the parking lot of the motel, stopping in front of the office. He got a room and tossed the key at Nick, then drove down to the appointed cabin.

        They made it all the way inside and the door was almost shut before Nick grabbed him, shoving his hand down the front of Sean's pants. "Wish you'd said something before," he said, groping Sean's cock, which hardened quickly under his grasp.

        "Me?" Sean moaned, pushing back against Nick, banging the door shut with his body. "I've slept beside you for a month and didn't know you were the type to go in for sex in public bathrooms - _or_ with guys you hardly know." He couldn't make the words, harsh as they were, into a rebuke, though, and cut himself off with a heated groan.

        "I don't discriminate," Nick said. "I'll sleep with guys I know, too." He had Sean's pants open and was jerking him off, now.

        "Bed, Nick," Sean stammered.

        "No," Nick said, biting into his neck without breaking the skin.

        "You always want it like this, on the nearest flat surface?" Sean asked, shoving back again with the full length of his body. He knocked the wind out of Nick, and felt the molded curve of Nick's cock press against his ass through the taut fabric of his pants. "Jesus." Nick pushed him forward, right onto the orange carpeting. Sean landed on his hands and knees, Nick on top of him an instant later, mouth sucking at the back of his neck. "I knew you were staring at my neck," he groaned.

        "Yeah, but you thought I wanted your _blood_," Nick said, hands busy unbuckling his belt, shoving down his pants.

        A second later, Sean heard him tear open a condom. "Didn't you?" he asked, using one hand to jerk his own cock, now that Nick had stopped.

        "Just trying to picture what a nice, big, dark hickey would look like on all that pale skin," Nick said, grabbed his hips, and shoved his cock into Sean's body without warning.

        "Fuck!" Sean screamed as a wall of pain went through him, and Nick held him tight, pressed against his back, until Sean stopped shaking and he didn't think he'd bite through his own tongue.

        "Better?" Nick asked, and Sean nodded. Nick started to move inside him, and the ripples of pain slowly turned into heat, the heat melting into something even deeper and more visceral. Jesus, but he was good at this. Sean smiled to himself.


        "Just thinking, that guy obviously didn't know you were so good at this, or he'd have asked you to fuck him."

        "What makes you think he didn't? Wasn't what I wanted," Nick said. He pushed Sean's head down. "I wanted to fuck _you_."

        "So why not him?"

        "I knew you'd be tight. He wouldn't have been - and I wouldn't have been able to pretend he was you."

        Sean gasped, on the very edge of coming.

        "Don't," Nick warned him, and stopped his thrusts. "Not yet."

        Sean almost cried out loud with frustration, but made himself stop the rhythmic jerking on his cock. They stilled, breathing hard. Sean thought he could feel Nick's heart beating against his back - but he wasn't entirely sure it wasn't his own.

        Finally, Nick brushed away Sean's hand, and started to stroke him again, inside and out. Sean braced himself on both hands again, raising his head off the floor, body moving against Nick's as they slammed together. He wanted to come, but he didn't - he didn't want this to end. The choice wasn't his, though, and when Nick thrust in deep and stilled, he came with a harsh cry.

        He didn't think he passed out, not quite, but the next time Sean opened his eyes, he was flat on his stomach on the carpet, Nick lying on his back beside him. Neither one of them was completely naked, and their bags and shit were still scattered around the floor. They were only barely inside the room.

        "Now we can go to bed," Nick said, grinning at him.

        Sean shook his head, wondering how soon he'd actually be able to _move_. "Yeah," he said. "Whatever."


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