Title: Not Today
Author: Jedi Buttercup
Disclaimer: The world belongs to Justin Lin, Vin Diesel, et. al. The words are mine.
Spoilers: Fast Five (2011)
Summary: Somewhere in the middle of it all, between the burning flash of rage in Brian's eyes and the taste of Mia on his tongue, Luke had decided he might as well pour gasoline on the fire. 1500 words.
Notes: This is the optimistic version of what might come next after the Mia/Hobbs "Exercises in Frustration" and the Brian/Hobbs "Made That Way". Definite threesome implications (yet another first this fandom has inflicted on me).
For the first time in a long time- he couldn't have put a figure to it in his muzzy, sleep-weighted state, but it had definitely been long- Luke Hobbs drifted to the surface of awareness in an utterly relaxed state. Somewhere in the background, a vague hint of unease niggled at him; but he was warm, sticky and sore in a way that suggested he'd been utterly fucked out, and for the first time since the first news broadcast about Brian O'Conner he didn't feel even a hint of a stress headache.
Wherever he was, whoever he'd done, he didn't give a shit if it meant he felt this good.
He yawned into the soft, clean linen under his nose, then shifted a little to get the knee out of his balls. The slight movement pulled at other intimate areas that hadn't been sore in a month of Sundays, and nudged another bed partner behind him; he could feel at least three hands, a breast, that knee, and someone else's morning erection against various parts of his person. Not a bad way to wake up. A little unusual, maybe, but an encouraging set of sensations. Idly, he wondered what the hell they'd had to drink and why in fuck he wasn't feeling the hangover yet, but he was still too wrung out to care.
He'd figure it out eventually. In the meantime... Luke yawned again and let himself drift awhile longer, consciousness blurring into the background white noise of waves and the soft breeze drying his skin.
He couldn't have said how much time passed before it finally dawned on him that wavesong and warm breezes were not usually conditions he could expect to find in his bedroom. Not to mention that one of his wrists ached as if he'd fallen asleep wearing handcuffs. That wasn't a kink he usually explored with bed partners he didn't trust. He wrinkled his brow, irritation sifting slowly up through the fog of contentment permeating his cells, and pondered the necessity of prying his eyelids up enough to figure out what exactly was going on.
Someone else had beaten him to the awareness stakes, though. He could hear footsteps, a heavy tread on wooden floorboards muffled by an intervening door, and then the creak of that door swinging open.
"What the fuck," an all too familiar voice ground out. "O'Conner!"
"Shhhh!" the owner of the erection at Luke's back hissed, propping up on an elbow. "Keep it down, Dom. They're still asleep."
Alarm flushed through Luke's system, quashing his lazy arousal. His breath hitched a little before he could get it under control, prompting a broad, callused hand to stroke absently over his shoulder. He let it soothe him back to stillness while his brain raced, struggling to piece the previous day back together.
"They, Brian?" the first voice growled again, quieter but if possible even rougher. Dominic Toretto's voice always sounded as though it were filtered through gravel. "Tell me that's not Agent Hobbs laying next to my sister!"
The second voice sighed: a sound Luke could identify as resigned amusement without even a look at the speaker's face. He'd fucked the man off and on for a little more than two years before his bad boy of a lover had disappeared and morphed into ex-Agent O'Conner, and the familiar sound still tugged at his dick despite all the months and betrayals between them.
"Your sister's safer than I am," Brian snorted. "He's the good guy, remember?"
What the hell had possessed him to track Brian down and jump into bed with him instead of arresting him?
"Brian?" the softer form in front of him murmured sleepily, then turned, pressing a dome of taut skin up against his thigh. "What's going on?"
Oh. Right: Mia. The woman who had thoroughly fucked with his mind when he'd tried to hold her as bait for her lover- and, evidence suggested, most of the rest of him afterward.
"Nothing, babe," Brian murmured. "Go back to sleep. Your brother's just yelling at me."
"Tell him to do it later," she yawned into Luke's chest, then snuggled closer.
Luke shifted instinctively to wrap an arm around her- and the ache in his wrist instantly redoubled as he was caught short of his goal. Handcuffs. Right. More memory filtered back: Brian catching him with his hand in Mia's hair, her mouth on his, and his handgun abandoned halfway across the room. He'd come damned close to getting shot before Mia talked Brian down. But somewhere in the middle of it all, between the burning flash of rage in Brian's eyes, the taste of Mia on his tongue, and the snick of the cuffs being fastened around his own wrists, he'd decided he might as well pour gasoline on the fire. Turnabout was fair play in their book, and opened a lot more opportunities than kneeling there waiting for them to call Mia's brother.
More aches were starting to wake up as he lay there cataloguing the events of the evening. He'd never really believed what they said about horniness in pregnant women, but damn if Mia Toretto hadn't proven him wrong. It had taken both of them to keep up with her at first- he could feel the sting of half-moon fingernail marks on his hips and the back of his neck- and by the time he'd got his hands on Brian alone most of the rage had bled over into an earthier kind of passion. Fuck his hindbrain for getting caught up in it; it was no wonder he'd slept so well. But this wasn't two years ago. Brian was his mark now, not his semi regular bed partner, and if Mia Toretto had proven herself to be made of the same steel-strong stuff that always got his motor running... she was still in the same category as Brian. And Brian's, for a double dose of terrible idea. Which made basking in the afterglow a suicidal prospect, never mind daydreaming about a repeat engagement.
Ah, well. He'd feel a little less like an idiot this morning if he had managed to stay awake as planned, but beggars couldn't be choosers. He was alive; he'd had some truly spectacular sex; and he'd left marks on Brian that the fucker would be feeling a lot longer than those broken oaths of his. So maybe cara Mia had got the better of this particular exchange, but he wasn't completely down for the count yet.
"Damn it, Brian," the other Toretto sighed again after a long pause, then made an irritated sound. "Put some fucking clothes on. I'm making breakfast." Then he shut the door again and strode away.
"Done playing possum yet?" Brian murmured after a moment, tracing his fingers over Luke's shoulder again. "Nice tattoo, by the way. I like it."
Luke sighed and finally slit his eyes open, staring at the top of a dark head of hair tangling in his beard. "This doesn't change anything," he replied, gruffly, turning his head to look into intent blue eyes.
"Never said it did," Brian shrugged, smirking at him. "Was a lot of fun, though, wasn't it?" Then he sobered a little, glancing down at the still-dozing woman sharing the bed with them. "I did miss you, you know. Mia's a goddess, but..." He shrugged. "I never felt right about lying to you."
Luke lifted an eyebrow at him. "You think any of that should matter?" he asked. "You may have been comfortable betraying your badge, but I'm not made that way. You're still on my list, Brian."
"And how's that working out for you?" Brian replied with a snort.
"Mmm, it's too early for this conversation," Mia complained, stirring again. "If you're going to spoil my morning with dick-measuring, at least you could put them to good use." She stretched lazily, sitting up and letting the sheets pool unselfconsciously around her stomach.
"Hey," Brian said, expression softening into a goofy smile as he leaned around Luke to give her a wake-up kiss.
Something in Luke's chest twinged painfully, and he tugged on the handcuffs again. "You going to take these off me now, or do you plan to leave me here while you pack up and escape?" he growled.
Mia broke away from the lingering liplock and grinned, as beautiful and deadly as his favorite knife. "You don't mind, do you?" she asked, reaching over to wrap her hand around a part of him that was definitely taking interest in the proceedings.
"Fuck!" he hissed, arching up against her as he dug the nails of his free hand into Brian's thigh.
"Though so," Brian laughed, stroking his thumbs down Luke's spine with an obvious goal in mind. "Just remember this next time you chase us down."
"I d-don't think there's any danger of me forgetting," he panted, already starting to sweat again.
Going crazy, maybe. But never forgetting.
He'd get the better of them one day. But- not just yet.