This actually happened, long before Marcellus ever met Sean. It’s so far away from the mainstream Gravity plot that I’d almost call it an AU. But it’s not. Cuz it actually happened. ;-)

Dedicated to Jennifer because she inspired (and nagged) me.

Breathe

Rick leaned on the bar, sipping his fourth, maybe fifth drink of the evening and watching the crowd of men writhe on the dance floor. For the last several minutes, his eyes had been locked on a couple, both at least six feet tall, both stacked and tight-assed, doing their level best to crawl into each others' skin. It seemed likely, if they could just press close enough together, lock their knees between each others' legs, grab and hold just the right spot...

“Dance?”

“Hm?” Rick blinked, dragged reluctantly out of his fantasy.

“Would you like to dance.” It was a statement this time, not a question.

“Oh, no…” Rick turned to meet a pair of the richest brown eyes he had ever seen. “...thank... you.” He began to wonder if he ought to have accepted, even though he didn’t particularly enjoy dancing. Framing those amazing eyes was an open, friendly face and chocolate-brown skin. His smile was contagious.

“Come dance with me.” The man’s voice was rich and deep.

Rick shook his head. “I’m really not a dancer.”

“Me neither.”

Rick raised an eyebrow.

“I’m Marcellus.” The taller man said and extended his hand.

Rick noted how large Marcellus’s hand was as he shook it. You know what they say about men with big hands… he thought, rather crudely, but then this was a dance-club after all, and they had been drinking. He was kidding himself if he thought this guy wanted anything else. And the more Rick looked at him, the more he hoped this was going to be a blatant, unmitigated attempt to get him in bed. That was what he was thinking, but all he said was, “I’m Rick.”

Marcellus glanced over at the couple Rick had been watching. “They’re hot, huh?”

Rick just nodded.

“What are you drinking?” Marcellus asked, leaning on the bar.

“Wild Turkey.”

“How fast can you finish it?”

Rick glanced back at Marcellus, then put the glass to his lips and swallowed back the remainder of his drink in one gulp. He set the glass down on the bar, keeping his eyes on Marcellus.

Marcellus returned his gaze steadily. “Great. Listen, I only asked you to dance because I wanted an excuse to get my hands on you.”

Rick realized he'd been holding his breath and exhaled, taking a look beyond Marcellus’s eyes, perusing the contours of his chest, the breadth of his shoulders, his narrow waist. “There are more direct ways to do that.”

“I can do direct.” Marcellus grinned, realizing that he was being cruised and liking it. “Come home with me.”

That was certainly direct. Rick pushed away from the bar and headed for the street.

Marcellus used the press of the bodies at the crowded bar as an excuse to touch and grab and feel Rick up on their way out of the club. Rick didn’t discourage him, moving more slowly than he technically needed to, even with the sea of men between them and the door. They finally made it out onto the sidewalk and Marcellus took hold of Rick by the wrist, pulled him close, and ran his tongue up Rick’s neck to his ear.

“Oh god.” Rick groaned. Rick was generally receptive to any approach that felt good at the time, and was often propositioned by both tops and bottoms, by mice and Masters, but this direct desire approach was his very favorite form of seduction.

Marcellus hailed a cab. They behaved themselves on the ride, though they were almost completely silent as if each was afraid to disturb the careful balance of tension and anticipation. They even made it upstairs to Marcellus’s third floor apartment with relative decorum, but by then, Rick’s skin was buzzing, his cock was tight and his mouth was dry.

When they got inside, Marcellus offered him a drink and Rick accepted automatically, though he didn’t really want it. He looked around the kitchen and the living room. The décor was mostly modern bachelor chic, comprised of largely of leather and accented with chrome and glass. Rick stepped further into the living room and glanced down the hall toward where he assumed he would find the master bedroom.

“Nice place.” Rick said, loud enough to be heard in the kitchen.

“Thanks," Marcellus grinned, bringing Rick a glass, "does it say ‘do me’?”

Rick laughed. “Oh yes, it oozes ‘do me’.”

“Oozes. What a good word. You must be a writer.”

“History professor.”

“Oh... you write fiction.” Marcellus winked and gave Rick a light push down the hall toward the half-open bedroom door.

Rick was still snickering as he was maneuvered into Marcellus’s bedroom. He licked his lips as he had a look around. The room was accented with big windows on one wall that were outlined by heavy drapes. There was a tall, slender dresser against one wall and a long mirror in a shiny, black, metal frame hanging over the bed. Centered on the far wall under the mirror was wide platform bed with a black leather duvet cover.

“Oh, now see, the duvet really does say ‘do me’.” Rick grinned, knocking back his drink.

“Mm. And what do you say?" Marcellus grinned back, taking Rick’s empty glass and setting it on a low table by the door along with his own.

“I say do me. If I have to wait another minute I...”

He didn’t have to wait another second, in fact, because Marcellus was on him like white on rice. He smothered Rick’s mouth with his own, hungrily, cutting off both Rick’s words and air. Rick opened his mouth to the oral assault and inhaled deeply and audibly through his nose. God his jeans were so fucking tight. He reached down and unbuttoned them with a moan, dragging the zipper down. Marcellus’s large, warm hand took over, pushing under his briefs and enveloping him firmly in his fist. Rick groaned and pressed his cock into the large hand. Desperately, he began to tug and push and pull and yank on Marcellus’s clothing.

It came off in bits, his shirt, his pants, the tank Marcellus wore religiously under everything. Marcellus was larger than Rick, and stronger by far which was saying something given that Rick was no shrinking violet himself. Rick was manhandled and groped and bitten and palmed until he fell more than sat back on the bed.

Marcellus looked down at Rick, running a hand over his own chest and lower, over his abs, down his thigh, under his own balls. He gave them a squeeze and moaned.

Rick felt his groin tighten, his stomach muscles clenched involuntarily and the heat was almost overwhelming. “Christ that’s hot.” He said, breathlessly. He sat up, opening his lips as he did so and took Marcellus into directly his mouth. One hand wrapped around the dark skinned, muscular ass, and the other gripped the base of Marcellus’s erection for control.

Marcellus hissed and slid his fingers under Rick’s chin to behind his ear and held him there, his fingers pulsing slightly against Rick’s skull as Rick moved on him. Rick moaned around him, letting the head of Marcellus’s formidable erection hit the back of his throat over and over until Marcellus couldn’t take it anymore. To stop him, Marcellus gripped the hair at the back of Rick’s head and tugged hard. Rick was forced to release Marcellus and gasped and the bigger man bullied him further up on the bed and pushed him onto his back.

There was a flash of a Trojan wrapper, the pop of the lube tube and then Rick’s knees pulled up in reaction to Marcellus’s slippery fingers. They felt huge. Rick panted and arched toward them.

“Oh… godgod…”

Marcellus made a strained sound and the fingers were gone almost as abruptly as they’d entered him. The dark, hard body moved over Rock's, the heavy weight of Marcellus’s cock slapped against his thigh, slid between his legs and filled him insistently.

Rick panted with the intrusion until Marcellus was well seated, balls deep, and their hips flush together. Marcellus leaned down and kissed him again and Rick suddenly couldn’t breathe. He tried through his nose but Marcellus reached up and pinched it. Rick opened his eyes and stared into Marcellus's rich brown ones.

“Trust me, I'm a paramedic.” Marcellus said in a reassuring, if heated, tone.

Who the fuck was this guy that Rick should trust him without even knowing him? But Rick’s mind was already swimming and his body moving of it's own accord. Marcellus continued to thrust into him, pumping heavily and deliberately. Rick pushed on Marcellus’s shoulders in weak protest, and then shoved at them harder as the need for air became more urgent, but Marcellus didn’t let up. Rick was sweating and making needy noises and then his hips tightened and bucked. He came so hard he saw stars. Blood roared powerfully in his ears as his body shook. Marcellus released his nose and mouth just as his vision was starting to tunnel and Rick gasped, reflexively for air at first, and then for his release.

The next few moments were lost to Rick in a haze of pleasure, high on the rush of oxygen. He lay, almost limply under Marcellus and moaned, long and low until the bigger man was grunting and the thrusts were too hard and too fast to ignore. He looked up at Marcellus’s face and into his eyes again. He watched as Marcellus’s shallow breath turned into uneven panting. He watched as Marcellus’s brow furrowed, his mouth went slack and he came, shuddering, buried deep inside Rick.

Next came an unquantifiable period of stillness, in which there was no sound but the two men breathing filling the room.