Title: Human Behaviour
Fandom: General Hospital
Characters: Tracy Quartermaine
Prompt: #2 Back Alley
Word Count: 1,424 words
Rating: Hard R
Summary: Tracy Quartermaine and Larry Ashton take a break from the rehearsal supper for Alan and Lucy Coe's wedding.
Author's Notes: Set just before Tracy gets together with Paul Hornsby, around 1989. Written while I listened to Bjork's "Human Behaviour" over and over again…..good song for smut writing. PWP, dudes. Fairly Graphic Stuff.
"You really shouldn't smoke," she murmured as he pushed her against the wall. He kissed her, laughing, then backed away to light the cigarette he'd pulled from the silver case he carried.
Tracy snatched the lighter from his hand and leaned forward to take the cigarette between her teeth, grinning as she robbed him of, as he put it, one of his only two vices. She shook her head, blowing him a kiss while placing her fingers in a V around the cigarette, one of those skinny brown European ones he favored, and holding it expertly between her fingertips. "It's a filthy habit," she scolded, miming the act of smoking with the unlit cigarette.
"There are so many more pleasant nasty habits we could be engaging in," he suggested. When she frowned, pretty even now that he officially hated her, Larry Ashton had to laugh at his ex-wife. "You knew I wasn't really looking for fresh air when I asked you to accompany me."
Tracy threw her head back, her laughter deep and throaty. "I figured your tolerance for bullshit was as low as mine," she purred, leaning forward with a sassy grin, her free hand playing with the lapels of his dress jacket. "Can you believe that little tramp actually had engraved place cards?"
"'Dr. Alan Quartermaine and Miss Lucy Coe cordially invite you to chow down at their farce of a wedding rehearsal?' Yeah, I thought you'd find that amusing." He was still trying to get the cigarette from her, but she was too quick for him.
"Alan is such a fool," Tracy said, wriggling out of his arms as he tried to pin her with his body to the wall. "Does he really think the sex is gonna stay that good once the little gold-digger has her claws into him?" She made a big show of flicking the cigarette out of her fingers, sending it flying across the alley till it fell and rolled, useless, on the dirty pavement.
"Oh, I don't know." Larry grabbed her wrists, pinning them against the brick wall of the Port Charles Hotel, enjoying her frustration as he held her captive there for a long moment before kissing her neck. The alley was just outside the kitchen, and he had made sure they were far enough away from the doorway as not to be disturbed. "Our sex life didn't suffer once you'd gotten your claws into me…."
"Bastard!" She bit his ear lobe, hissing the word in his ear as she stifled a moan. Her ex-husband had pushed his knee up between her thighs, throwing her off-balance, forcing her to stumble, to depend on the strength of his hands that held her wrists against the alley wall. "I didn't marry you for your money."
"You married me for my title."
"Which you lied about," she groaned. His knee was pushing steadily upward, spreading her thighs wider. "Oh, god…"
"You married the future Lord Ashton," he whispered into her hair, letting her arms drop as he lifted her sharply, lowering his hands to each of her thighs and pulling them up around his hips. Her gasp was gratifying, as was her look of outrage. She was so much fun to torment, that Tracy Quartermaine. "I have no problem with a little social climbing."
"Arrogant son-of-a-bitch," she whispered. Her teeth grazed his shoulder as he pressed his hardness against her.
"No shame in it, love. I married you for your nubile young body, which I assure you never once disappointed. Why shouldn't you have married me for my title?"
"I was young and horny and wanted out from under Daddy's thumb," she admitted. Larry could feel her faltering, her façade of outrage losing ground to her naturally base instincts. Tracy's libido was second only to his own, and it was an undeniable fact that sex between them was always better when it was illicit. "You were sexy and rich and there. I just went with it." She was baiting him, and he was perfectly happy with that. His beautiful ex-wife didn't have be nice; he could hire people to be nice.
"You were outrageous," he breathed into her hair as he reached down between them to unfasten his trousers. "Remember when you brought me home to meet the folks? You were so innocent, so virtuous." His erection was almost painful--she brought it out in him, this rough, vulgar desire. "Your father would have castrated me if he'd known what we were doing in the stables."
"And the linen closet…and the pool house…" She was wriggling now, no longer even pretending to deny him.
It only took a slight shuffling of undergarments to be inside her, where he wanted to be, where he craved to be even when he hated her with every fiber of his being. "You were a little slut even back then."
"The perfect Lady to your Lord Ashton," she retaliated, knowing that he hated her bringing that up.
He thrust harder in response, reveling in the knowledge that the wall was rough and painful against her back, delighting in her gasps of protest. Her mouth sought his, and for a while it was just grunts and moans and heavy breathing, the stuff of porn films, so classless and vile that it sent him through the roof with pleasure. She weighed nothing to him in those moments, any physical effort dwarfed by the pure ecstasy of the raunchy, completely inappropriate fun they were having. Her arms were tight around his shoulders, her skirt hiked high around her hips, legs crossed behind him as she urged him on with language that would make a sailor blush.
A noise from the other end of the alley sent her into a panic, and she buried her face in the fabric of his jacket as the shock of fear sent her into a powerful orgasm. Her entire body clenched around him, the kind of hard, insane orgasm usually reserved for teenagers, not for mothers of grown sons. Larry felt his own body reacting, and by the time they heard the kitchen door shut again, he was coming hard inside her, moaning into her shoulder as quietly as he could. When he was done, it was all he could to do remain standing. He leaned forward, holding her body between himself and the wall, using gravity to keep them both upright while he caught his breath.
When she finally calmed enough to lower her legs, when they pulled apart and set about the task of tidying up, Tracy actually had the audacity to look embarrassed. "Our son would be mortified," she murmured as she reached down to straighten her garters and hose.
Larry paused to admire the sight--he loved women who wore such pretty things as garters for their own aesthetic value, rather than as a feeble attempt at brazen sexuality. He sometimes wondered if his ex-wife even noticed her own beauty. "Our son," he reminded her as he reached down to finger the lacy garter. "Would not even exist were it not for…" He indicated the dark ally where they'd just had their encounter. "This sort of thing." To the best of their knowledge, Edward "Ned" Ashton had been conceived in the back of a cloakroom at a charity ball held by one of their neighbors. "Not exactly a romantic conception for our one son and heir," he chuckled.
Tracy's mouth screwed up slightly in disgust, then relaxed into a smile. For his benefit, she took longer than necessary to adjust her things, making sure he got a really good, long look at her pale thighs before she lowered her skirt again. A few tugs here and there, and she was once again perfectly acceptable. Her hair was a bit mussed, but that was easily blamed on the wind. The jacket that went with her outfit would cover any smudges from the wall on the back of her shirt. No one would ever know what Tracy had done in that back alley behind the Port Charles Hotel with her no-good scoundrel of an ex-husband.
"You realize this can never happen again," she began as she wrapped her arm in his and they headed back to the party, which would certainly be much more amusing now.
"Of course, my dear," he said. Tracy really was such great fun, Larry Ashton had to admit to himself as he opened the kitchen door and held it for her.
It was truly a pity he was going to have to destroy her.
The End
Written for the 100situations Challenge.