((I wrote this with a pre-OVA setting in mind, before the Valentines joined Millennium and became vampires. I'm also keeping the detail from the TV series about the brothers owning/running a club, because it still fits their characters. I also included a bunch of personal headcanons and whatnot, since we don't a lot about the brothers to begin with. This is pretty much the first draft of the story and I wrote it in one go, so it's not that great or maybe not even that GOOD but anyway I'm proud of myself for actually finishing something I started. I hope you like it!))
"Alone Time"
Jan couldn't remember the last time he felt this lethargic. Luke was downstairs, taking care of the club, but it was a slow night due to the downpour outside. They weren't kidding about the weather in London being shit. Rain splattered on the windows and ran down the glass; it felt like the whole damn world outside was drowning. The damp cold seeped indoors and made everyone huddle together like rats in a nest. Nobody wanted to go out in this, especially not to go to a club.
Jan would get restless and bored on nights like this and drive Luke crazy while he tried to find something to entertain him. He declined to join his older brother in the club tonight; he wasn't in the mood for pounding music and sweaty club-goers. The cocktail waitresses were probably glad to get a break from his Roman hands and Russian fingers. It all sounded too exhausting today. He hadn't even bothered to get fully dressed, just hanging around in his track pants and a sleeveless shirt. Even his favorite hat was where he left it on the dresser. He slouched on the sofa, watching the smoke from his cigarette float idly towards the ceiling. Fuck, this was torture, but he didn't know what he felt like doing. Finally, he pushed himself up from the couch and walked towards the first thing in his line of vision.
He found himself in front of the liquor cabinet. It was actually his liquor cabinet for the most part. Aside from the occasionally scotch, Luke largely preferred wine and that was all in a fancy rack on the other side of the room. Jan always thought of wine as expensive grape juice that tasted like shit. He preferred beer and whiskey. Come to think of it, a drink sounded pretty good right now. He grabbed the bottle of Jameson and a glass and continued on his search through the apartment.
Once the money started coming in (of course the inheritance money from their conveniently dead uncle helped too) Luke went to town renovating and furnishing the apartment with new wallpaper, mahogany furniture and leather sofas. Jan didn't care what he did to the place as long as it was comfortable and his room was untouched. His sole contribution was convincing Luke to not make everything white; otherwise he'd be constantly bitching at Jan for staining something. He had saved them both a lot of time and energy in the long run. Eighty percent of every fight the two of them had came from the simple fact that they were just too different from each other. Luke was a well-dressed, refined gentleman. Jan was a garbage-mouth punk with bad posture and 'FUCK YOU' tattooed on his knuckles. Agreeing to disagree was sometimes the only way they could diffuse an argument, because one trait they both shared was a frustrating amount of stubbornness.
His idle walk through the apartment led him into the bathroom, a room Luke took way too seriously in furnishing. Jan had to admit they needed it. The old bathroom was tiny with a cracked sink and mold under the tiles, and the toilet sometimes refused to flush. Luke had the whole thing ripped apart and renovated two, maybe three times bigger. There was a stand-in shower and a tub that could probably double as a Jacuzzi, porcelain tile, marble sinks and monogrammed towels. Well, Luke's were monogrammed, and of course white. Jan had his own dark blue towels, but sometimes he used Luke's when he was mad at him. His eyes drifted over to the tub, which he had never used himself. Hygiene for him was 'jump in the shower, wash your hair and the important parts, rinse and dry off.' He sat down on the edge of the tub and poured a glass of whiskey, contemplating. Luke would be downstairs for a couple hours, not like anyone would know.
"Ah, why the fuck not. Ain't like I got better shit to do."
He set down the whiskey and his cigarettes so they were in arms reach. The drain was plugged and the tap for hot water turned on full blast. A small display of bottles of scented oils caught his eye and he scoffed, putting his cigarette out in an empty soap dish. No wonder Luke always smelled like a damn perfume sample.
"That'll be the fuckin' day." He pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it to the floor, the pants and his socks following after. There was a full-length mirror in the corner, and he wandered over to it while the tub continued to fill. Most girls who got him out of his clothes were surprised at how toned he was. (His pierced nipples, not so much.) There wasn't much hair on his chest but a line of dark brown hair trailed from his also pierced navel to below the waistline of his boxers. He was pierced down there, too. Someone bet him he wouldn't do it, and he took that bet. It hurt like hell at first but he grew to like it. The girls liked it too, although one girl had called him 'a metal detector's worst nightmare.' He turned around to look at himself over his shoulder. There was a rather visceral tattoo on his left shoulder blade of an anatomically correct heart, gorily impaled on an arrow. He smirked as his reflection began to fog over in the mirror, since one of his favorite movies came to mind.
"Would you fuck me? Yeah, I'd fuck me."
He padded back over to the tub, stripping off his boxers and stepping into the water. It was very hot, just the way he liked his showers. The faucet was turned off and he sank into the water with an appreciative groan.
"Fuck, this is nice. No wonder Luke likes this girly shit." He muttered, bending his knees so he sank in up to his chin. He laid there quietly for a few minutes with his eyes closed, enjoying the steam and the water easing any tension in his muscles. Now settled in, he sat up and grabbed his glass of Jameson and lit up a fresh cigarette, leaning back in the tub.
"Fuuuuuck, this is nice." He repeated to the empty bathroom. He might have to take advantage of this more often, at least when Luke wasn't around. This tub was big enough for two, hell, he could probably bring a girl in here. Girls liked shit like that.
He smirked to himself and blew a smoke ring towards the ceilings. Girls…women, chicks, bitches; whatever you wanted to call them. A bunch of their previous associates had assumed that Jan liked to force himself onto girls. Shit like that was for pathetic assholes that couldn't get any. He would make threats on the job, but that was different, that was business. Nah, he didn't need to force anyone. There were plenty of girls who wanted a bad boy, like his most recent dalliance; that red-haired girl from Leeds. Shit, he never did learn her name, did he? He chuckled under his breath, taking a drag off his cigarette.
He remembered that was last Friday. He spotted her dancing and enjoyed the view, and Red must have felt his eyes because she turned to look right at him. Never missing a step, she grinned and beckoned him over with a crooked finger. How could he say no to that? Next his hands were on her hips and they were getting into the rhythm of the music. It doesn't take a lot of rhythm to bump and grind but they weren't necessarily dancing because of the music.
There were different kinds of girls. There were the girls that you rubbed up against on the dance floor and maybe thought about later when you were alone. Or there were the girls who you had to get more of, the girls who once you had a taste you wanted more. He remembered smelling the perfume in her hair and feeling her swaying hips and thighs against his and knowing he had to get her alone or he'd go crazy.
Jan had been absently running a hand over himself during this reverie, and he glanced down at his semi-hard member. It looked like he found his current activity for the night, absently trailing a hand over his stomach and back down to grasp himself again. He paused to down his glass and pour another one before continuing to reminisce.
At some point, he'd said to her, "It's too fuckin' loud here, wanna go upstairs?"
They didn't make it to his bedroom at first. He was on top of her on one of the leather couches, kissing and biting her neck while one hand slipped into her panties. She was so soft and smelled so sweet; her moans in his ear making him rock hard.
Jan bit his lip as he stroked himself harder, his forgotten cigarette now floating in the bath water. He felt it in his lower stomach, knowing he was getting close already, the pace of his strokes increasing, groaning under his breath.
They finally got to his room, only because Luke came upstairs and told them to. It surprisingly didn't spoil the mood. He practically threw her and pinned her down on the bed, holding her wrists down as he kissed her hard, practically biting her lips. She bucked her hips against his; he yanked his pants and boxers down, flipping up her skirt. He shoved into her, reveling in the cry he drew out of her. He claimed her mouth again, wanting to feel her breathless and moaning. Her fingers dug hard into his back as he fucked her into that mattress, panting as he took her over and over.
He wondered what it'd be like if she was with him at this moment. He imagined her naked and wet, water and suds sliding tantalizingly slow down smooth, flushed skin. Crawling towards him, looking up at him and taking him into her mouth-
"Fuck-!" He groaned with his sudden release, his other hand gripping the edge of the bathtub. "Shit…" He let his hand drop back to his side in the water, spent, taking a moment to come back to himself. After a few minutes he looked at his hands, now beginning to prune. He managed to undo the drain plug with his foot and pulled himself up out of the water. The previously forgotten glass of Jameson was picked up, regarded for a brief moment and then drained. A knock at the door startled him and he nearly dropped his glass.
"Jan, are you in there?" Luke's voice came muffled from the other side of the door.
Jan scoffed at himself for jumping, resuming the task of drying off. "Yeah, I just got outta the shower. S'up?"
"I thought you might like to know that red-haired girl from last week is here again. …But please, not on the couch, I just had the leather cleaned."
"Heh, no promises!" He laughed, grabbing his boxers off the floor. "I'll be right down."
"Hmm." Luke's footsteps faded away from the door, probably to go back downstairs.
"Funny you should show up again, li'l Red." Jan chuckled, pulled his pants up and wiped some of the fog off the bathroom mirror. "I was just thinkin' about you."