trial run
warnings/tags: minors DNI, NON-CON, dark themes, woc!reader (south asian coded but yk), creep!Quinn, weak-willed!Luke, these tags are not exhaustive
wc: 1.5k
summary: It's an older brother's job to do things first. Quinn's just making sure you're right for his brother, that's all.
dividers by @/cafekitsune jack's fic is killing me so have whatever this is :P please let me know your thoughts! and happy reading :P
Luke’s brother won’t stop staring at you.
You habitually strum your fingertips against the plastic cup his brother passed to you twenty minutes ago. The drink is warm and untouched, and you regret not asking for a beer instead.
Luke’s been stretched thin all night between pleasing you and pleasing his friends. You told him you wouldn’t mind if he spent time with them instead but guilt flushed his cheeks and made promises he couldn’t keep spill from his mouth.
You close your eyes and loose out a deep breath. The porch is slightly damp from the humid summer air, and you ignore how it makes your shorts stick to your skin. You’re sure if you were to turn around, you’d find his brother’s attention has not left you.
You shouldn’t have come tonight. You should’ve offered meeting up for lunch, something more within the boundaries your friendship with Luke was constrained by.
Somehow, he had found out you were back in town visiting family and texted you. Subtlety has never been one of Luke’s strengths and five texts later, you picked up on the hurt underlining the playful tone he was trying for.
Your easy acceptance of his offer to come to a party at his place—his brothers’ place to be technical—seemed to settle whatever stifling emotions lingered in him at your unintentional deception. His smile had been one of relief when you showed up, softening the rigidness of his jaw that had accumulated the longer you strayed from your projected estimated arrival time. He had pulled you into a hug, bending down so he could bury his face in your neck before letting you go to introduce you to some of his friends.
That had been an hour ago.
He tried to stick by your side as long as possible but eventually he was pulled away by a too excited friend. The guilt that wrecked his expression felt too severe for the situation at hand and an odd sense of relief filled you when he was out of sight.
You don’t know why you accepted the invite considering Luke is the only one you know here. Perhaps you’re weak to his pouting or perhaps staying at home the past week has made you stir-crazy. You have another six days before you’re expected back at work, and you’re determined to make the most of it.
Glancing over your shoulder, you wonder if biding your time until it’s socially acceptable to leave this party would be considered making the most of your trip home.
The kitchen has a few stragglers but for the most part, it’s been cleared out. There’s no sign of his brother and your tense shoulders relax a fraction. Surprisingly, you are the only one in the backyard, though, you suppose the sticky air might have something to do with that.
“You didn’t like the drink?”
Said drink sloshes over your fingers as you flinch. Blood rushes to your head and it takes a moment for you to find where the voice has come from.
He’s standing by the patio door, seltzer in hand. He takes careful steps towards you as if not to spook you.
“You didn’t like it?” he repeats, nodding towards the drink.
You look down at it, the cup now half what it once was. The space between your fingers grows tacky, and you try to rub the feeling away.
“Not really my taste,” you say apologetically.
You wipe your hands against your thighs and stand up. The light from the kitchen is dim, casting shadows on the hollows of his cheeks. He’s got the same tired look Luke tends to default to and the likeness is jarring for a moment.
“I’m Quinn,” he introduces, holding out his hand.
You give him your name, shaking his hand once before dropping it. His scrutiny is more disarming up close, and you take a step back.
“Lukey’s friend,” he says, feigning surprise. Your smile strains at the act. As if he hasn’t known exactly who you are since the moment Luke called out to you. “College, right? I think we were in the same year.”
That’s news to you.
“Huh, I would’ve never guessed that,” you say. You rack your brain for what Luke studied when he was playing. “Sports Management?”
He nods, eyeing you with vague approval. “Good memory.”
The compliment sounds like a stand-in for something he’d rather say, something less flattering if you are go to by the entertained smirk beginning to pull at the corners of his bitten mouth.
“Well, it was nice to meet you,” you say, slightly uncomfortable. “I’m going to go find Luke and say bye.”
Before you can step around him, Quinn steps into your space.
“It’s still early,” he says, pushing back his hair. “Stay a little longer.”
When you don’t look convinced, he adds, “I mean, Luke was so excited about you being here. Talked all of our ears off about it.”
He keeps getting closer, leading you to the far side of the patio. The kitchen is no longer in your line of vision.
“Did he now?” you ask faintly.
Trepidation works its way through the sea of your burgeoning confusion, tainting the waters until your confusion morphs into an oily unease that has you swallowing thickly the longer Quinn looks at you. He’s set his drink down, the empty clang of it making you flinch.
“He didn’t mention how pretty you are,” Quinn says thoughtfully. And then he laughs, shaking his head. He works his jaw, exasperation making it stiff. “Maybe he wanted to keep it a secret.”
His tone is light, borderline tender as if sharing an inside joke.
It freezes the breath in your lungs.
“I think I should go,” you say, voice tight.
Fear trickles into your bloodstream at a steady pace when he nods, barely moving to the side to let you pass. Your shoulder brushes against him and a sigh of relief begins to escape you until his arm hooks around you and he turns you back to him.
He kisses you.
Your mouth opens and you don’t find out whether your instinct is to bite down or yell at him for Quinn’s tongue slips in. The hand on the small of your back presses you forward firmly as he cups your jaw harshly to slot your mouths against each other better.
He isn’t deterred by your lack of response, kissing you deeper and wetter with a throaty groan. He tastes sweet, the artificial taste of black cherry cloying on your tongue.
His hand starts to wander, greedily touching everything he can. When the searing heat of his palm lays over the soft skin of your chest, your teeth snap down. The worried skin of his bottom lips splits under the pressure and the salty tang of his blood replaces the sickly sweet taste of seltzer.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you gasp, spitting out the blood.
There’s a raw edge to your distress. When you wipe your hand across your mouth and look down, there’s an already drying streak of red on your skin.
Quinn licks his bleeding lip, using his thumb to wipe away the pink mix of spit and blood dripping down the edge of his mouth.
“I wanted to see what all the fuss was about,” he shrugs.
You can’t even begin to assign meaning to what he’s said when Luke appears. His cheeks are red from the alcohol and his eyes hazy with something else, but he’s put his attention solely on you with concentrated effort. And more specifically on your mouth.
You can practically see the wheels turning in his head at the evidence smeared on both you and his brother.
“I told you,” Quinn says, amused. “She’d go for anyone s’long as they were a player.”
Luke bites his cheek. “You’re such a piece of shit, man. I saw you.”
Quinn doesn’t have the decency to look guilty. He holds his hands up, laughing. Luke, on the other hand, has the shame to look away when your eyes round out in betrayal at the realization he stood there while his brother kissed you.
“You can’t blame me, Lukey,” he hums. “I just wanted a taste.”
“Are you serious?” Luke snaps, voice growing more nasally.
He’s whiny, you realize with horror. The anger eating away the buzz in his blood has nothing to do with what Quinn’s done to you: it’s about what Quinn’s taken from him.
You shift your weight, peering into the darkness of their backyard. At some point, you’d eventually loop back to the front right?
Quinn doesn’t let you get far as soon as he notices how your body twists. He reaches out an arm and wraps it around your waist, dragging you to him. Once he’s secured you against him, he brings that same arm up so he can hold your jaw.
His fingers dig into your cheeks until the pressure against your teeth forces you to open your mouth to alleviate the soreness beginning to accumulate under his touch.
Luke swallows thickly, eyes darting to the ‘o’ of your lips. He follows the line of your throat as you gulp.
Quinn kisses the back of your ear before dropping his chin on your shoulder.
“Come on, Lukey. Don’t you want a taste too?”
