Title: Lullaby (You're No Good)

Author: Kerry Ann

Fandom: Ocean's Eleven

Pairing: Rusty/Tess, heavily referenced Rusty/Danny

Rating: NC-17 for sex and one f-bomb

Summary: While Danny's in jail, Rusty and Tess find solace in each other. Rusty second person POV.

Disclaimer: Two words: Didn't happen

Feedback: Feedback is like sex. Always satisfying when you get some, but its awkward when it sucks. I'm not partial to flames. Please keep them to a minimum. Also, slut is Swedish for "end." Look it up.

Notes: I recently rewatched Ocean's 11 and this bunny would not leave me alone. First and most likely last time delving into this fandom. I particularly enjoyed writing this, despite the fact that no one will read it. I dipped into a bit of a different writing style for me. I'm starting to see quotation marks as distracting, so I'm beginning to avoid them all together. If it doesn't work let me know. No, seriously. Oh, and I haven't actually seen the second and third movies in their entireties, so if any of this is supremely not-canon (well, besides the obvious) I claim ignorance. Unbeta'd, written in about an hour after I had gotten out of bed to get it out of my head. So if its crap, sorry. If not, more power to me. And finally the title, theme, and beginning lyrics are taken from the song Lullaby from Shock Treatment. Enjoy!

Oh what a joke;

You feel like choking.

You play for broke,

It leaves you smoking

Romance is not a children's game.

But you keep going back; its driving you insane.

/

Its a Tuesday night (the 78th of his 120 days in prison) and it's damned hot. The shower is running in the other room, sounding inviting and yet repulsing. A cigarette hangs between your lips, leaving a lazy smoke trail up to the ceiling before dissipating. Stale sweat and come clings to your rippled skin, yet you continue to ignore the thunder of the shower. You take a long slow drag on your cancer stick before finally asking the question that you've been actively avoiding for the last twenty minutes.

What the hell just happened?

You're not quite sure what the answer is anymore, and furthermore you can't tell if this feeling coursing through you now is guilt or relief.

/

She is sitting on the opposite end of the couch from where you are perched, clutching a wine glass filled with her favorite blush and wearing a smile that belied the deep, rich laugh she just shared with you. She'd come over for dinner like she had every Tuesday night since the beginning of his incarceration, and like every Tuesday night the pair of you retreated to the den where stories about the old days were told and your own private memories of him were recalled. You had just told a particularly hilarious anecdote involving a nudity, a round of black cat firecrackers, and the hooker who started it all, when she stops laughing, her eyes clouding over with that familiar emotion.

You miss him, you say. Not a question, but a statement you've never had the courage to admit to yourself.

Yes, she replies and when she looks in your eyes you know she hears the unspoken 'Me too.'

Neither of you talk for the rest of the night, seemingly reading each other's minds in that way you were always able to read his. When she nods she saying You love him and that's okay, and when she lays her hand on your arm she's whispering I'll be yours if you be mine. You don't have to ask to know that she means 'him.'

She guides you to your bedroom, slinking out of her clothes with skill and swiftness. It hasn't been so long since last you saw a naked woman's body, but even as you harden beneath your jeans you wonder when it's allure to you had faded.

You don't protest as she undresses you and pulls you onto the bed with her. Your lips never meet; he was never one to kiss while fucking. He was much more into the moment of feeling skin against skin, and often said that kissing was a romantic gesture too civil for the carnal act of sex. She helps you roll on the condom before lying back and spreading her legs, inviting you in.

It's been a long time since you were in this position. With him you were always on your back, your knees hooked over his shoulders and his hand languidly stroking your cock as he slowly and deliberately rocked into you. You had almost forgotten what it was like to look down at your lover, so accustomed you were to staring up at him.

You're so lost in your thoughts that you don't realize that she moves your hand to her breast, silently instructing to squeeze. This must have been something he enjoyed doing to her, but lacking breasts yourself he never attempted the same in your bed. You massage gently and when she moans Danny you shiver, remembering your name on his lips and how it almost drove you to the brink.

She's not as tight as he was the one time he allowed you to take control. You knew he was in pain, it was obvious by the expression etched in his otherwise graceful features, but he still had the audacity to time you. You lasted two minutes and thirty-six seconds before you collapsed on top of him, seed spilling from you in a rush. He'd felt exquisite around you, a sensation he'd let you become addicted to but failed to supply the drug since. After you had regained your breath, he immediately pushed into you with such force that it brought tears to your eyes. You can't help but recall the way he dragged his teeth over your earlobe, whispering harshly Remember this.

Her nails scratch down your back and it reminds you of how much he liked to do that; he said the pain sharpened your senses. He was right, of course. He was always right. Her legs wrap around your waist, forcing you deeper, and the stars that pop behind your eyes are all too reminiscent of the ones you saw every time he thrust into you.

When you finally come, you throw your head back and you ride it out, just like you always watched him do, before collapsing on top of her. You're careful not to let your chin touch her skin as you have not shaved. He hadn't been so considerate that first time, when he rolled off you, his stubble scraping across your shoulder. You had shivered and adopted an accusing tone, You're no good. He just smirked back, reaching between your legs to prepare you for a second go-around, murmuring back You're no good.

Slut.