Title: Lucky 13
Chapter title: When in Vegas
Fandom: Ocean's eleven (Ocean's 13, technically)
Pairing: Virgil/Turk (slash)
Rating: M
Chapter Summary: He seems to draw a complete blank beyond noticing the tension in his brother's shoulders, then noticing the broadness of those same shoulders, and the thickness of his biceps, and the largeness of his hands, and finally remembering what those hands feel like.
Virgil's POV as the brothers return from Mexico, and find themselves having a quiet moment before the security guard scam, and with everyone else seemingly busy elsewhere, the room is really quiet around them.
A/N: This is the three chapter in Lucky 13, which is the third story in the Driving me crazy 'Verse (which includes all three movies)
CHAPTER FIVE - WHEN IN VEGAS
The suite is surreally quiet when the brothers walk in, adding to the thick silence already stewing between them. They've avoided looking directly at each other ever since they went to bed in that motel room in Mexico, went to sleep, facing away from each other. But they're still acutely aware of each other. It's like their bodies have been re-programmed to tune into the other's presence. Even when Turk is somewhere behind him, Virgil can feel him moving, and he just knows which side of the room he's on despite the carpet muffling any footsteps. And Turk is being unusually quiet too, which in itself is spooky.
Virgil puts his bag down on the bed and turns around to look at his brother.
Turk is fidgeting and avoiding his gaze, fiddling with an earpiece for his next costume. There's an identical one still on the table. The black suits to go with them are draped across the back of the sofa.
It's absurd, but Virgil's pulse is pit-a-patting like a Duracell bunny's drumsticks and his fingertips are tingling; he hasn't been this nervous since he lost his virginity to Ms Landon behind the bleachers after gym class in 8th grade. And even then he was clear-headed enough to form coherent sentences, whereas now, he seems to draw a complete blank beyond noticing the tension in his brother's shoulders, then noticing the broadness of those same shoulders, and the thickness of his biceps, and the largeness of his hands, and finally remembering what those hands feel like.
He clears his throat, just to break the silence.
Turk immediately looks up, like he was just waiting for a signal, even though he was the one who wasn't ready to talk about, and his gaze falls from Virgil's face to where he's put the bag and then flits away completely. Virgil thinks he might even have blushed, but he can't be sure. It could be the tan he got in Mexico standing out in this dim light. But just the possibility of Turk blushing has him imagining what could make him blush. He looks down at the bed behind him and immediately his mind starts whirring with images of what could be done on it. But it's not until he starts wondering which images Turk might have come up with, that he himself blushes. And there's a tingling sensation in his belly, that filters down, and he feels himself harden slightly. He thinks he should feel bad about that. He should feel wrong, dirty… and thinking this way doesn't help, apparently.
"You… tired?" Turk offers, too casual and too polite to be comfortable for either of them.
"What", Virgil says, because he can't think of anything else to say.
"We should see if the suits fit", Turk mumbles in a rush and turns away so that Virgil can't see his face anymore.
It's oddly disconcerting. For some reason, Virgil needs to know what his brother is thinking, what he's feeling. Maybe all those thoughts of guilt and regret that he's still waiting for, maybe they've all gone to Turk, maybe he's consumed by them and maybe he feels like he'll never be able to look at Virgil again, either way Virgil needs to know. They were never the best of friends, they never really even got along, but they are brothers, twin brothers even, and they've gone through everything together since the day they were born. It's not good or bad, it just is, and suddenly Virgil is gripped by a chilling fear that maybe he's gone and ruined all that, maybe he's fucked up the one constant in his life.
"Turk", he says.
"Yeah?" Turk chirps, still not looking his way.
"Hey, Turk…"
"Yeah! What?"
Virgil can't imagine life without Turk. Not in a romantic way, that life wouldn't be worth living without him in it, that he'd be incomplete without him, he just can't imagine it. Although the part about being incomplete does hit closer to home than he'd like to think of right now.
"What", Turk repeats.
"Would you look at me."
Turk half-laughs as he turns around but there's no amusement in the sound, or in his face as he meets Virgil's gaze again, almost defiantly.
"What is it, Virgil."
"I just wanted to ask you… I just wanted to know, if you… you know, do you regret it?"
He clears his throat again and shifts his weight.
Turk just stares at him.
"Well?" he presses, trying to ignore the heat in his cheeks.
"Well what, what am I supposed to say?"
"What do you mean what are you supposed to say, it's not a trick question, either you regret it or you don't."
"Do you?"
"I asked you first!"
"I don't know! It happened. We both… did things… we both knew what we were doing, and now it's done. What's there to regret?"
"So you're okay with what happened?"
"I didn't say that."
There's a deafening pause where they keep staring at each other. Virgil doesn't know what else to say, but he's frozen in place and can't seem to tear his eyes away, until Turk blinks, and it's like a spell has been broken.
Virgil looks down as Turk continues talking.
"Not regretting and being okay with it, isn't the same thing… you know…"
Virgil nods. The carpet seems to throb, to taunt him, it swims before his eyes, coming in and out of focus as he tries to keep his breathing stable and his pulse down. He feels cold all of the sudden.
He turns around and starts rummaging through his bag for a sweater, he knows he packed one, maybe he left it in Mexico.
"Hey, I didn't mean it like that-"
When Turk takes a few steps closer to him, Virgil feels it. His brother's presence pressing against his nerve bundles, sending shocks of electricity through his body and making his muscles tense, his gut clench.
"Are you cold? I'm feeling cold-" he mumbles and moves around the bed and starts rummaging through another bag that isn't even his.
Turk keeps closing the distance between them, until he's right there, on the edge of Virgil's personal space. It freaks him out a little, the effect it has on him, this close proximity. And he wonders, if Turk would ever be willing to go back to how things were, if he'd even be able to.
"I didn't mean to say I wasn't okay with it" Turk says. "Virgil. Did you hear me?"
"I'm not deaf, Turk."
"What I meant to say was that I don't know if I'm okay with it yet-"
"Right", Virgil says and shoves the bag aside. It's Rusty's. Like he'd ever be caught dead wearing anything of his, cold or not.
Turk reaches out to grab his shoulder, and Virgil flinches. Turk immediately takes a step back and shoves his hands into his pockets. Virgil turns around and looks at him.
"You don't know if you're okay with what happened in Mexico", he repeats calmly, imagining he sees Turk shiver slightly. "I get it. I guess, let me know when you do know."
Turk's Adam's apple bobs up and down, he clears his throat gently, and breathes in through his nose.
"I would, but it kinda depends on you", he says.
"What does?"
Turks shrugs awkwardly, and he definitely blushes this time.
"I'm okay with what happened, if you're okay… with it…"
Virgil feels the air go out of him. He's relieved, yes, but on the other hand he's still waiting for the second shoe to drop, for the freak-out to get its act together, like he knows he isn't okay with any of this but his brain just hasn't caught up yet.
Turk looks away, out the window, but he doesn't turn away completely, body and all, like before. It's a compromise. And he keeps talking, Virgil knows it's more to do with keeping the silence at bay than getting stuff off his chest, but he's grateful, even though the whole situation is unreal, and just a bit scary.
"I started having these… feelings… these thoughts about you", Turk says. "When we were in Amsterdam, well the feelings probably came way before then, since I was, I don't know, jealous or whatever when- doesn't matter", Turk mumbles.
Virgil feels out of breath, and his heart is hammering in his chest, it's like his body is under the impression that it's just finished a work out session or something. Turk looks over at him again.
"But by the time we were in Amsterdam", he ploughs on. "It became clear to me what I was feeling, and I was freaking out about it, I don't deny that, but in Mexico… what we talked about… and did… I-"
Virgil licks his lips, trying to stay focused, heart doing a half-spin when Turk's eyes flickers down to his mouth and sort of glazes over.
I did that, Virgil thinks, almost proudly.
He dares a step closer to his brother. Turk looks up into his eyes again, but he still has that glazed over look about him, and his pupils are slightly dilated, like he's high. When he's this close to him, Virgil realizes that Turk's breath is just as shallow as his own. He takes another step closer, hoping to feel his body heat too.
"I…"
"What?" Virgil murmurs.
Watching Turk's eye lashes close-up as they flutter down, Turk being distracted by his mouth again, Virgil can't help himself, he sneaks his tongue out to swipe across his bottom lip again.
Turk releases a shaky breath. Virgil imagines he can feel the warmth of it against his neck and chin.
"I didn't say anything I didn't mean", Turk continues.
Virgil leans down a little, then in a little, closer still, he shifts his shoulder slightly to the side, and they almost come together, almost, they're like magnets fighting the pull of each other. This time, when Turk speaks, the words hit Virgil in warm spurts against the side of his mouth.
"I didn't do anything I didn't want to do."
"What about now?" Virgil murmurs, voice all croaky with tension.
"What about now?"
"What about what we're doing now?"
"Were not doing anything now."
"Yeah, but do you want to?"
It's hard to say who kisses who. It's more like they both give in to the pull, finally, and just fuse together, from their lips down to their hips. Virgil cups Turk's face with both hands, fingers reaching behind his ears to rub tiny circles into his scalp.
When Turk's hands settle on his waist, those big, strong hands, so close, Virgil presses his hips harder against him, pushing into him, hard-on rubbing up against his brother, against his hard-on, the sensation incredible. He moans into the kiss.
When they break apart for air, they're both panting. Virgil lingers close, resting his forehead against Turk's, eyes still shut, to hold onto the sensation a little longer, or to steel himself, still waiting for that second shoe.
"Does that-" Turk starts.
"Don't-!"
"-answer your question?"
Virgil chuckles and straightens up, their foreheads disconnecting, and he opens his eyes again. Turk is smirking. His hands are still resting on Virgil's hips, thumbs idly stroking their way in under the hem of his shirt and grazing bare skin.
Turk looks down, the smirk twitching and almost becoming a smile, and if he was anyone else, Virgil would have thought he was being shy, or embarrassed, or coy. He reaches up and drags his fingertips down his scalp and neck, relishing in the tiny goose bumps that erupts there. Part of him wants to lean in and taste them. Another part of him thinks he's still fucking up, still ruining the one constant in his life.
"I still think you're an idiot", he says and lets his hands rest on top of Turk's shoulder.
When Turk looks up there's a familiar glint in his eyes.
"I still think you're an animal."
"If you start singing Bloodhound gang…" Virgil warns.
"Shut up. And-!"
"Make-"
"-if you sa-!"
"-me! What, if I say what?"
"You know what, you fucking cliché. Come here-"
Virgil smiles and leans down to capture his brother's lower lip between his own, sucking lightly on it, then swiping his tongue over it, tickling the inside of his upper lip, lapping up all the little moans escaping from within the mouth. Turk's grip on his hips tightens and he backs him up against the wall, hard enough to knock the wind out of him, but not enough to make their teeth clash. Turk's tongue nudges his own. The hands on his waist squeezes him, thumbs swiping down his hip bones, then they travel down to his fly.
Virgil wrenches out of the kiss and slams his head back against the wall.
"Wait", he gasps.
He grabs Turk's hands and holds them still.
"Wait", he mumbles again.
"What, what, what is it", Turk mumbles, while he nuzzles Virgil's chest, nose rubbing against his breast bone, lips brushing over his right nipple, Virgil groans.
"Slow down?" Turk mumbles.
He kisses the nipple through the shirt, fabric dampening slightly, hot air soaked up in it.
"No, nonono, just… just…"
The mouth disappears from his chest, and he whimpers before he can stop himself, the damp patch over his nipple immediately cools down.
"You want to stop?"
"Fuck no!", Virgil breathes out, but when the hands on his fly starts working on the buttons again, he pushes away from the wall and backs Turk up a couple of paces, and, "Wait, wait, wait, hold on…"
"Jesus, what."
"Just hold on!"
"Fuck, Virgil-!"
"Yeah, that's what I was thinking!"
"…you, what?"
"We have a bed now, is what I'm trying to say, we should-"
"Oh, right, we have a bed-"
"use it, don't you think?"
"Right. Right… you're right."
"What was that?" Virgil teases, smiling, stalling, despite the hardness pressing against the fabric of his jeans and bordering on painful. "Say that again, I'm what?"
"You're an idiot, alright. Now get those goddamn pants off and get on the bed-!"
"You get them off-"
"I've been trying-!"
Virgil slams his mouth against Turk's, whatever he was going to say next, he swallows greedily and he walks them over to the edge of the bed, without breaking the kiss, and pushes Turk down on it. He puts his elbow down next to his head, holding himself up so as not to squish him he hovers over him, the only parts of their bodies actually touching their mouths and their legs.
Turk's arms snakes up, hands trailing up his thighs to his arse, squeezing slightly, then pulling down hard. Virgil hmphs in protest, but Turk's stronger, and he collapses on top of him, hips to hips, and it feels amazing. He extends his arm and pushes his upper body up, breaking the kiss as he does, and Turk huffs but then smirks up at him.
Virgil has to take a couple of breaths before he can talk, meanwhile, Turk's hands seem happy to stay where they are, cupping his butt, and consequently pushing their hips, and hard-ons, together.
"Aren't I-?"
"You're not that heavy, sweetheart."
"Well, I wasn't sure, with you being so little-!"
"Little? Really?"
Turk's hands squeeze his buttocks again, and he gyrates his hips up, creating a perfect amount of friction in just the right places, heat pooling between them, pulsing with pleasure.
Virgil lies back down and buries his face in the crook of Turk's neck and groans. Turk chuckles, turning his head a little, so that his breath ghosts over Virgil's jawbone.
"Maybe not all of you", Virgil admits.
"Sweet of you to notice", Turk mumbles.
Then he lets go of Virgil's arse and pushes him off to the side until he's on his back. Turk straddles his hips like he's done it a million times, and bends down to trail kisses down the side of his neck, whilst unbuttoning his shirt.
Virgil wants to touch him everywhere all at once, and not knowing where to start, his hands end up irresolute on top of his brother's thighs.
When all the buttons have come apart, Turk flicks the material aside. His gaze swipes over the exposed skin, and he swallows. Then he looks up into Virgil's face.
"Just tell me if you want to stop."
"Shut up."
Turk smirks, "Alright…"
And then he's bending down again, mouth seemingly everywhere at once, nipping, lapping, kissing, blowing, brushing. His stubble grazing across Virgil's skin. And Virgil is writhing and panting within seconds. His hands leave his brother's thighs and fly up to grab a hold of the fabric of his t-shirt sleeves, but gets distracted by the hard muscles underneath, and start kneading them instead.
Again, fingers are working his fly, the top button coming apart, then the second. The mouth is licking and sucking around his belly button, around his right hipbone, third button comes undone, and Virgil feels Turk's nose nuzzling the soft hairs that trail down from his belly-button. The mouth is kissing the waistband of his briefs, hot air reaching through to skin, teeth nipping at the fabric.
"Wait", he gasps.
Turk puts his head down, his cheekbone sliding into place just under Virgil's hipbone, and he lets out a shaky breath that washes over Virgil's erection. Virgil hisses in response.
"That is my new least favourite word", Turk mutters.
"Have you done this before?"
Turk's head pops up then and he looks at Virgil. The image is too surreal to even take in. But surreally arousing at the same time. Turk raises an eye brow.
"Have I given my brother a blowjob before?"
Virgil swallows, "Haa-haa… The other thing."
"What other thing?"
"You know…"
Turk searches his eyes for a second, then realisation seems to strike him, and he moves back up Virgil's body until they're face to face. Virgil is holding his breath without even realising it, until Turk gives him a look and he lets it out. Turk smiles fondly and plants a shallow kiss on the corner of his mouth.
"We don't have to do that", he says.
"Oh… I didn't mean-"
"I know."
"I was just-"
"I get it. But I'm not blowing you just so you'll let me fuck you. Okay?"
"O-okay…"
"And anyway I think we should take it slow. That okay?"
"Yeah okay", Virgil whispers.
Breathing comes easier to him all of the sudden. Something unknots in his chest. He doesn't know if he's relieved that they're taking this one step at a time, or to learn that there even is an it and Turk expects to do this again. He licks his lips.
"So… the first question then, minus the brother part", he says.
"Ah. Ehh, no. No I haven't. But I've been given a few, so I think I'm good to improvise… if you'll let me get on with it."
"Alright then, get on with it."
Turk grins and bends down to bite Virgil lightly on the neck. Then he scrambles back down his body, leaving sloppy kisses along the way, and dragging his hands over his arms and chest, fingers rolling over nipples, pinching carefully.
"There's no way you haven't done this before", Virgil hisses breathlessly.
"Well, I've done this", Turk mutters. "It's not that much of a diff-"
"If you call me a girl right now, I swear to God-"
Turk chuckles and drags his teeth across his abdomen. Then he grabs Virgil's waistband and pulls down, jeans and briefs all at once. He nuzzles the inside of his thigh, and there's an absurd sensation when the side of his head brushes the root of Virgil's cock. It throbs in response. Turk turns his head, his shallow breaths hitting Virgil's balls. Then he's nuzzling the side of his cock instead. And Virgil screws his eyes shut, because it makes it easier to just feel, because watching his brother as he starts kissing his way up to the tip is just too much and he wouldn't last more than three seconds flat, because his vision is all fucked anyway.
Virgil breathes noisily, tries not to, tries not to whimper and moan too much, tries and fails.
There's an absurd explosion of pleasure welling up inside of him as Turk's mouth closes over the head of his cock and sucks, then there's a flick of tongue along the edge. His best orgasms haven't felt this good. He thinks he might have uttered a string of curses out loud, he's not sure, his voice isn't his anymore, or he's not in control of it anyway, nor his breathing.
His body is on fire.
He claps his hand over his eyes, like that will hide him from the world, like that will make the pleasure any less excruciating.
Turk takes him into his mouth, halfway, and drags his tongue across the underside, sucks.
Virgil curses again, then babbles uncontrollably until the mouth leaves him completely, replaced by one of those large, strong hands, that starts pumping him idly while Turk hushes him. Virgil nods and bites down on his lower lip. The hand on his cock tightens its grip briefly, and Turk curses, but unlike Virgil he does so under his breath, not at the top of his lungs.
"If you knew how hot you look right now", he murmurs thickly.
Then his mouth joins his hand. And Virgil's brain shuts off. Then there's just sensation. Just heat, burning, wet heat, and electric jolts of pleasure, and a building tightness that makes his skin prickle, and he's aware of every square inch of his body, more aware than he's ever been in his entire life, feeling every single little hair, every pore. And he has to bite down on his hand instead of his lip to keep quiet.
Gradually Turk swallows him down, hands pressing his hips firmly down as a pre-caution as he works out how to deep-throat without gagging, and once he's swallowed all of Virgil and has the tip of his nose buried in the soft hairs on his abdomen, he swallows. One of the hands holding Virgil's hips in place trails down to his nutsack and cups it, massaging gently. When it tightens against his palm, Turk starts sliding his mouth up again, sucking all the way, tongue dragging across the underside, then flicking the tip quickly before he moves away and sits back, presumably to watch Virgil as the orgasm washes over him.
Turk's hands caresses Virgil's thighs, almost comfortingly, as he comes. And he's muttering something, Virgil can't really catch the words, but his voice is soothing, and thick with awe.
Virgil is trembling all over. The hand over his mouth falls away, but he keeps the other one over his eyes. His chest rises up and down as he tries to catch his breath, tries to get his brain up and running again.
When one of Turk's hands slides up to his belly and touches his come, he pushes the hand covering his eyes up to his forehead and blinks, then peers down. He sees Turk with a hungry look on his face, smearing come all over Virgil's chest, and he swallows thickly.
Turk glances up at him, a glint in his eyes that is familiar and completely new at the same time. And the small smile on his face, that's new too, secretive, and almost fond.
"You can be loud", he murmurs like it's the most coolest secret and Virgil has just shared it with him, and him alone.
"Sorry", Virgil rasps.
Turk scrambles up his body, eyes still shining, and he settles down next to him, nuzzling the side of Virgil's face as he shakes his head.
"Makes me wish we had our own room", he mumbles.
Virgil turns to his side and cups his brother's head with one hand, leaning in to capture his lips. They kiss gently for a long moment, just kissing, just tasting each other and mapping out the shape of each others mouths, memorising the texture of the other's lips.
Virgil is the one to break it.
"My turn?" he asks.
"You're spent", Turk counters with a teasing smile.
"I'm alright", Virgil insists, even as he feels himself growing heavier, and his eyelids drooping.
Turk chuckles and pinches him lightly in the side.
"Hey", Virgil protests quietly, squirming away. "Tha' tickl's…"
"Sorry", Turk whispers back, but sounds nothing like it.
Virgil snakes his arm in under Turk's neck and hugs him closer. He feels Turk's arms moving around them, and then something, probably a blanket, covers the lower parts of their bodies. Then Turk's head settles on Virgil's chest, his arm over his waist, fingers tucked in between his back and the bed.
The next thing Virgil knows, he's lying on his side on the bed. Alone. He breathes in deeply through his nose and flops over to his back as he pushes himself up to a half-sitting position and squints out into the room through the cobwebs in his eyes.
He shoots up completely when Rusty and Reuben come into view, and moves to cover himself, only to realize that he's wearing his jeans again and his shirt is buttoned up nicely.
"Hey, look who's up", Rusty comments.
Virgil drags a hand over his face, and tries to flatten his hair down while he's at it, knowing it's probably sticking up on all sides.
"Where's Turk?" he croaks, then clears his throat.
"Bathroom. You ready?" Reuben says.
"Ready?"
Just then the bathroom door opens and Turk walks out into the room. Their eyes lock immediately. Turk smirks secretively at him, and Virgil feels his cheeks heat up slightly.
"Hey, Sleeping Beauty", Turk says, his voice impossibly normal under the circumstances, and he even winks discretely.
"Hey", Virgil mutters and looks away before Rusty or Reuben notices the building blush in his face. He scrambles off the bed, hand smoothing down the shirt front.
"If you wanna clean up, hurry, 'cause we need to get going", Turk says.
Virgil nods and starts walking across the room. His pulse inadvertly quickens as he passes his brother on the way to the bathroom, and his quickly sneaks inside, shutting the door behind him. He rests his hands against the edge of the sink and takes a couple of deep breaths. Looking up into the mirror he almost laughs.
Can we say, Just been fucked, he thinks to himself and turns the faucet on.
He splashes some water on his face and then wets his hair to make it lie down as well. Then he unbuttons his shirt to clean himself off, only to discover that there's not a trace of come anywhere on him, and there's none on his shirt either.
It's only logical that Turk must have wiped him off before getting him dressed, but for some reason, the thought is just too absurd. Virgil glances at himself in the mirror again.
What are we getting ourselves into, he thinks.
Then there's a couple of loud knocks on the bathroom door, tearing him out of his thoughts.
"Come on, Sweetheart", Turk's voice reaches him through the wood. "Time to go. Let's go!"
Virgil takes one more steadying breath, then opens the door, smirking at how Turk's gaze is automatically drawn to his naked chest and how he has to whip his head around to avoid drinking it in.
"Here's your suit", he says and hands over the other black suit, without looking at him.
Virgil takes it and he shrugs off the shirt he's wearing right there on the spot. Turk quickly moves away from him and fiddles with the loose tie around his neck, fingers trembling slightly and making it even harder than he normally finds it.
Virgil shrugs on the white dress shirt instead and puts his own tie around his neck as he starts to unbutton his jeans.
"Need help with that?" he asks, tricking Turk into looking over at him and has to bite the inside of his cheek to not giggle when Turk instantly whips his head away again and by the looks of it silently cursing Virgil.
"Okay, ladies", Reuben interrupts. "Get your dresses on, it's time to go."
Virgil smiles to himself and pulls his jeans off, then steps into the black dress pants. He grabs the jacket and shrugs it on as he walks towards the door. Turk joins him, and he allows his shoulder to knock into his briefly.
Turk glares at him and opens the door.
Virgil chuckles and follows him out into the corridor.
When the door is closed again, Turk steps up close to him, and points a threatening finger in his face.
"You…" he murmurs quietly. "Will pay for that… later."
Virgil just grins back and leans down and kisses him quickly. Then, "Do you want me to help you tie that, though?"
Turk huffs, then looks away, licking his lips, then sighs. "…yes" he admits reluctantly.
"Alright", Virgil mumbles and grabs both ends of the tie and make them criss-cross. Turk glances at him, like he wants to say something, but he doesn't. Virgil meets his gaze and smiles.
"You're such a girl", Turk mutters.
"Shut up", Virgil says.
He adjusts the knot at his brother's neck. Then he smoothes his hand down the tie, briefly, before he takes a step back.
Down to business, the brothers slide into character, squaring their shoulders, and putting in their real ear pieces, as well as the prop ones. Nodding once to each other, they start walking down the hall, side by side, falling into the same rhythm without even thinking about it.
End.