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Allen doesn’t mean for it to start happening.
He just sort of falls into it, really. He isn’t out looking for tall, slender men to take home to bed, but it starts to become a pattern. He meets them at The West End, mostly, and they make eyes for a while before someone’s buying a round of drinks. They step out into the alley to smoke and maybe get a little handsy, but anything that would require fewer items of clothing waits until they’re behind closed doors. It wouldn't be safe. And besides - Allen doesn’t like being interrupted when he’s fantasizing.
It takes three encounters with tall, slender men for Allen to realize that’s what he’s doing: fantasizing. About Lucien.
When one kisses his neck, he imagines it’s Lu’s floppy hair tickling his jaw.
When the next unbuttons his trousers, he pretends it’s Lu’s piercing eyes darting up to look at him.
When another pins his wrists above his head, he envisions the weight of Lu’s body holding him down.
And then, once he realizes it… well, it’s just too good not to chase.
In the months since Allen and Lucien have been friends, Allen has seen how complicated Lucien’s relationships with other men are. The way he’ll talk a big game and then cower under a commanding gaze, submitting even when Allen can tell he doesn’t want to. Like he's powerless. Allen knows that no matter how much they delight each other, no matter how intense their conversations or how much he feels like he’s floating when Lucien pays him a compliment, there’s no happy ending here. As much as he hates to think it, Allen knows that he and Lucien won’t ever fall head over heels for each other. They’ll never hold hands and skip merrily off into the sunset side by side. The demons that weigh Lucien down won’t ever allow it.
So instead, Allen lets tall, slender men take him to bed while he fantasizes. He imagines writhing against Lu while splayed out on the bed, desperately arching up to kiss whatever patch of skin he can reach in between moans. The building tension between them as Lu ruts into him, one hand twisting free to wrap around himself and match the pace of Lu’s jerking thrusts. Coming messily between their bodies, eyes slamming shut to envision Lucien gasping his name as he fills him. And then, as the air settles and he comes down off his high, he opens his eyes to the stranger above him.
Their encounters are always anonymous - he doesn’t care to give them his name, and theirs aren’t really important either. They fuck, and they get off, and then one of them leaves. And, for now, that’s enough.
At least, Allen thinks it is.
Until Lucien meets Jack.
Not that Allen thinks Lucien and Jack are fucking. But it’s obvious that Jack intrigues Lucien. He sees the way the two of them banter, the way their energies rile each other up as they build on each others’ ideas. And the way Jack writes - Lu loves the way Jack writes. That, more than anything, is what kills Allen. It makes him write faster, more passionately, trying to capture Lucien’s attention again the way he did when they first met. Like a desperate dance to be chosen, even though no formal contest has ever been announced. Pick me. Pick me.
And every time Lu pays Jack attention, or laughs at his jokes, or praises his work, it makes him feel less important. Less special. And that itch deep beneath Allen’s skin - the one that random fucks have always satisfied before - gnaws at him further. He could handle it, when it was Kammerer. When Allen knew that there was a long history there, one that Lucien never seemed happy with. But Jack? He's new, and his presence frustrates Allen. More than anything, in Lucien's eyes, Allen doesn't want to be replaced.
It all comes to a head in Riverside Park.
Lucien’s been on edge ever since the confrontation with Kammerer in The West End. A little jumpier than usual, on edge from standing up to the older man, and he’s been keeping Allen close. Resting a hand on his shoulder as they walk with Jack to the park, bumping their knees together when they tumble onto the grass, tipsy and flying high. Jack plays around with a barrel on the river bank for a while before puking and wandering off, insisting that he’s got to see a man about a horse. Lucien doesn't go after him. And when it’s just the two of them, all alone, Lucien rests his head on Allen’s shoulder like he’s weary from the whole day. Like the weight of the world makes it too hard to hold up on his own, and Allen is the best support he can find.
When he looks up at Allen, there’s something different in his eyes.
“You scare me.” Lucien’s voice is so soft Allen can’t tell if the words are all just his imagination.
Allen blinks. “What?”
“This whole world. The movement. Where we could be in forty years.” He’s jumping from image to image, a little incoherent, but his eyes never leave Allen’s. “It all scares me. But mostly you. Mostly, of all the things that scare me, it’s you.”
Electricity pulses through Allen's veins and makes his skin tingle. Almost unconsciously, Allen reaches out to brush his thumb over the other man’s jaw. When he touches Lucien, he feels like a raw nerve. He’s wound so tight and after weeks of lighting up in Lu's presence, this whole night feels inevitable.
“First thought, best thought,” Allen says. And then, without thinking any further, he brings his lips down onto Lucien’s.
It’s tentative, at first. A part of Allen honestly expects Lucien to push him back in disgust, to be slugged in the eye and told that he’s been imagining every too-long glance, every lingering touch. That the way Lucien watched him in the library that day, gaze steady and body language almost lazily enjoying the sight of him getting his dick sucked, meant nothing. That it was just about being a voyeur, rather than being a voyeur watching him.
But god, do Lucien’s lips against his own feel good.
“Ginsy…” Lucien mumbles against his lips. Allen pulls back, uncertain, and finds Lucien’s eyes again.
“Lu?” he asks. He braces himself.
“I’m only good at beginnings,” Lucien tells him. His voice is barely a whisper. “I’m going to ruin you.”
And just as sure as Allen knows anything else, he knows this is true. He knows that Lucien won’t be his happily ever after, won’t know how to navigate this undeniable, imperceptible thing between them as soon as dawn breaks the next morning. He knows that he’s going to be heartbroken and lonely and go right back to sleeping with other men that remind him of Lu, aching to have the real thing no matter how much he knows that he just can’t.
But right now, under a tree in the dark with no prying eyes to spot them, Allen doesn’t care.
He kisses Lucien again… and this time, Lu kisses him back.
And finally, after everything, Allen feels chosen. He feels like he’s been granted the chance to touch his friend, this beautiful boy, and he doesn’t want to squander it. His hand slides up to cup Lu’s cheek, shifting a little closer to him. When their tongues brush together, Lucien groans softly into his mouth and damn if that doesn’t get Allen hard as a rock in his trousers.
Every part of Allen wants to tug at Lucien’s clothes. He wants to see the other man, slide his gaze over every inch of his pale skin. But they’re not in private. They’re still in the park, a place that's already a little risky, and he’s afraid that any attempt to relocate them behind closed doors might break the spell. Might make Lucien pull away. So he doesn’t push for it. He just kisses him, over and over again, and tries to savor every second.
When Lucien shifts to push against his chest, Allen hesitates, confused.
“What?” Lucien asks breathlessly.
“What are you doing?”
Lucien’s eyes lift up to Allen’s impatiently, and he exhales as one corner of Lu's mouth quirks upwards playfully. “Lie down, Ginsy, damn it.”
Well, Allen certainly doesn’t have to be told twice.
Lucien’s weight on top of him is even more intoxicating than Allen would have expected. He can smell him, booze and cigarettes and musk that makes his head spin. He shifts underneath him as they kiss and feels hardness pressing back against his own, and he moans into Lucien’s mouth.
He can feel the smirk on Lucien’s lips when the man shifts his hips and presses downwards.
“Fuck,” Allen curses quietly, and Lucien dips his head down to nip at Allen’s throat.
“It’s incredible, the potty mouth you’ve developed since we met,” Lucien says, mouthing at the skin of his neck. His hips grind down again.
Allen gasps. “You’re a terrible influence.”
There’s laughter in Lu’s voice. “Don’t I know it.”
Allen’s hands find the sides of Lucien’s face and pull him insistently up for another kiss. He rocks his hips up against the other man and after that, neither of them do much talking.
For a little while, the two move together in sync, the friction between them pulling gasps and groans from their lips in between frenzied kisses. They stay clothed but that doesn’t seem to matter - they feel every inch regardless, grinding against each other through the fabric of their trousers as their hands grip each other frantically. And when Lucien finally comes, the curses that leave his lips have Allen’s name interspersed between them, and Allen sees stars as he follows him over the edge.
Silence falls as they still, their jagged breaths the only other sound in the air as the river laps against the bank nearby.
Lucien presses his forehead against Allen’s. They’re both panting, and Allen feels like he’s in a haze of adrenaline and tangled limbs and warmth. The ground is hard and cold against his back, but he barely notices. All he can focus on is Lu and the way he trembles a little above him.
“You’re everything, Ginsy,” Lucien breathes, and even though Allen knows this might be the aftershocks talking, he savors his words just the same.
“Lu…” Allen’s hand fumbles to find Lucien’s, locking their fingers together and squeezing it tightly. He feels so much, in that moment. Something he’s never let himself do, not with any of them men before Lu.
Somewhere in the distance, a church bell rings.
Midnight, Allen thinks. “Should we go?” he says out loud.
Lucien makes some noises in protest and shifts, rolling off Allen and onto the ground next to him. “You know when we get up, the spell’s broken,” Lucien says.
The ache in Allen’s heart has already begun. “Does it have to?” he asks.
When Allen tilts his head to find Lucien’s face, it’s like he can see the darkness and damage etched into its lines. “I don’t know how it can’t be,” Lucien says. “That’s the only way I know.”
“It can be different.” He can hear the eagerness in his own voice and knows he’s likely making a fool of himself. He doesn’t care. “I’m not him, you know.”
Lucien stiffens just slightly. “No, it’s very obvious to me that you aren’t.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Lucien stands, stumbling just a little. “You’re perfect, Ginsy. I’ve always thought so.”
“Then why?” Allen struggles into a sitting position. "Why are you pushing me away?"
“Because I can’t ruin you any more than I already have.”
There’s a heavy silence between them, and they stare at one another. Allen’s eyes bore into Lucien’s, trying to get past them into the mind behind them. Trying to understand. Trying to decipher what makes Lucien tick, what parts of him he refuses to let Allen get close to and how he can open them up. Trying to figure out what he could possibly do to make this night end differently.
But the sadness there is all he gets.
“I’d be lost without you, Ginsy.” Lucien’s already walking away. That bond, the moment between them, shatters softly.
The further away Lucien gets, the harder it is for Allen to breathe.
He knows, watching Lucien’s retreating form slip away into the darkness, that this won’t ever happen again. He knows there won’t be any more stolen kisses, any shared fumblings together in the dark and moments of ecstasy with damp foreheads pressed together and whispered terms of endearment. Things between him and Lucien, from this moment, will be different. As much as it makes him ache, Allen knows he’ll go back to picking up other men, stand-ins to fuck him in ways he can only dream of sharing with Lucien.
And he knows, too, that those fucks will hurt far more than any of the ones before them. Because now he’s had the real thing. He’s loved, and just as he expected, he’s lost. None of those men can fix the empty feeling that's started to open like a cave inside his chest.
And there’s nothing he can do to change any of it, because he allowed it to happen. Even though he knew the outcome, he let it happen anyway. Hopeless and foolishly in love, Allen let himself be ruined by Lucien Carr.
And he enjoyed every last minute of it.
end.