InsaneJournal

Current location:	Paris
Current mood:	productive
Current music:	Hairspray Soundtrack - Without Love
Entry tags:	dresden files, slash

Fic: Flower Child - (18+)
Pairing: Harry Dresden / Carlos Ramirez
Disclaimer - the characters are copyrighted to Jim Butcher and no money is being made.
Rating - Adult.
Warnings: graphic sex
A/N: I had to write that pairing because strangely no one else did! Unfathomable! Let's hope I start a trend!
Many thanks to my beta non_timebo_mala for her mad skillz!
Feedback: Gimme! GIMME!!!

Enjoy!





"Well that was ... anti-climactic," I muttered, looking down at my beer.

Carlos gave me a look.

"Come on, Carlos! It wasn't even a combat spell!"

Truth be told, the creature we'd been sent to deal with had a nasty reputation. Since Arizona was halfway between Carlos's turf and mine, Luccio had asked that we both go to take it down.

A couple of redneck sorcerers had had the brilliant idea to summon an Outsider to rob banks for them. The Black Harbringer of Fetid Silences had done just that, incidentally causing viral outbreaks that had killed dozens and had had the CDC and Homeland Security hitting Defcon 1 thinking it had been the rehearsal of a major terrorist attack.

As it turned out, two regional commanders were kind of overkill for the assignment.

When we'd cornered the two summoners, the Outsider had shown up at their side, ready to rumble. I'd cast a good health spell hoping to buy us time against its disease powers, and the magic somehow caused the Harbringer to burst into phosphorus-white flames, which in turn set the two sorcerers on fire.

Just like that, our superdangerous hush-hush assignment had been over, so we'd disposed of the remains and relocated to our motel on the outskirts of Tucson.

Carlos snorted. "Harry, amigo, I believe you. I know you're good, but you're not that good. Also, your 'stunned squirrel' expression as it happened kind of gave it away."

"Young whippersnapper! Have some respect for your elders!"

"Yeah, yeah," he said with a cocky smile.

We were both fresh out of the shower, sitting next to each other on the floor in our boxers, our backs to the bed, drinking beer in my room where we'd taken refuge from the atrocious heat of Tucson in the summer. I kept praying desperately that the AC wouldn't give out on us.

"Man, this heat is going to kill me. My enchanted duster is nice and all, but an enchanted hawaiian shirt needs looking into. Every time I come this far south, it's like I'm getting hot flashes. I don't know how you can stand it all year long."

"Hot flashes, uh? I guess the tragic death of your sex life must have triggered an early menopause or something."

I smacked him. "Shut up, virgin!"

Carlos muttered poisonous things in Spanish as he hunched his shoulders and looked down at his drink.

"Also, seriously, what's up with that?"

I had to admit that ever since Lara had outed him as a 24 year-old virgin, I'd wondered. Carlos Ramirez is pretty easy on the eyes in a latino jock kind of way. Annoying as he may be sometimes, I couldn't believe he'd received no offers ever, and he didn't strike me as the type to say no.

He closed his eyes. "There are no words for how much I don't want to talk about this."

"Is it ... a mechanical problem?"

He looked confused for a moment, then he turned redder than a tomato. "I can get it up just fine!" With a groan, he let his head drop back on the bed. "Harry, I'm just not drunk enough to have this conversation."

"What conversation? I'm not asking for a conversation, just a reason." Then I added cruelly, "Is something deformed? Or a bit too small?"

He turned his head to glare at me. "I hate you so much right now."

"Just tell me!"

Carlos sat up straight. "It's a curse, asshole. There. Now you know."

I tried to wrap my brain around that. "Some dying wizard cursed you to die a virgin? That's just ... petty." And kind of neat too. Because cursing someone to die was tough, especially if that someone was a powerful wizard, but cursing them to never get laid again would probably be easier and might make them suicidally depressed, or at least ruin their fun for the rest of their days.

He stretched towards the icebox and grabbed another beer, then sat back. "Not a death curse; a family curse."

"Everyone in your family dies a virgin? That doesn't sound right. How do you reproduce?"

Carlos gave me a withering glance, then sighed and started explaining, his voice easy and slow, like he was telling a fairy tale. "Many generations ago, one of my ancestors who lived in Teotihuacán was troubled. There was a terrible plague, and when it ended, he was the last living heir of an ancient and noble family of Toltec fire-aspected magicians. His wife, while full of good qualities, had no magic and he realized that his children wouldn't have any either. He wanted his family to be a flame that would never go out. After searching for a solution for a very long time, he travelled deep into the Nevernever, seeking the far places where the gods dwell, to seek the counsel of Xochiquetzal--"

"Xochi-who?"

He reached out to poke me right beneath the ribs. "Xochiquetzal, the Aztec goddess of flowers. She listened to him and considered all he'd said, then she suggested a bargain between her and his family. The males of his bloodline would honor her by remaining virgins until they turned 21, then the young men would offer her their virginity in a ritual. A fire-wielder would speak out his true name in a prayer to the goddess, then sodomize a virgin--"

I almost choked on my beer. "Sodomize?!"

"Xochiquetzal was also the goddess of sodomy! Do you want to hear the story or not?" asked Carlos petulantly.

As a matter of fact, I did want to hear the story. "My bad. Go on."

He relaxed slightly. "Anyway, at the apex of the ritual, she would bless the male with the power to pass on his magic to his children. To make sure that there would be magical children or no children at all, my ancestor made it part of the bargain that those of his direct male descendants who didn't honor it would lose their magic and the ability to father children."

"Okay, I'm with you so far, but your 21st birthday was a while ago. What's the catch?"

Carlos gave me a crooked smile. "Flesh is weak. Few ever made it to the finish line. My uncle didn't make it, neither did my brothers. Dad died when I was a kid. Grandpa passed away two years ago. I'm the last one left ... and I can't wield fire."

"What does that mean?"

Carlos sighed. "You know as well as I do that every wizard has his own peculiar talents. I'm really good with wind and water, decent with lightning, but no matter how hard I tried -- and believe me, I was really motivated -- I never got the hang of fire. This means that even if by some miracle I managed to find a post-pubescent virgin in the LA area who'd go for mystical buttsex, I can't perform the ritual. "

Stars and stones. The thing is, magic isn't just something wizards do. It's who they are. The idea of losing it is unimaginable. Not to mention that the White Council was fighting a losing war against the Red Court and Carlos was one of the best soldiers left on our side. We couldn't spare him. But this pretty much meant that the poor guy was literally doomed to celibacy.

And here I thought my life sucked. At least, I had been lucky enough to escape the grip of Lasciel without having to sacrifice my magic.

We shared a gloomy moment of contemplative silence.

"Man, I'm so sorry."

Carlos laughed darkly. "Oh, it gets worse. Remember the part where I'm the last one left?”

I nodded.

“If I don't have kids, the bloodline ends with me. Xochiquetzal objects to that. She visited me in my dreams to tell me herself."

An Aztec goddess haunting him over his sex life. We’d reached a whole new level of creepy.

"Well tough. Why doesn't she change the bargain then?"

"Because she says I can still honor the current bargain. And that if I don't, I'll lose my magic on my 30th birthday."

"She thinks you can learn fire magic?" Just because you suck at a specific form of magic, doesn't mean you can't learn it. It just makes it incredibly difficult. Carlos might be able to learn before the deadline with enough time and effort. "I'd be more than willing to help."

"No, Harry. She thinks I can find a fire-wielder with whom to perform the ritual so I can offer my virginity as a catcher instead of a pitcher."

Oh. "Oh."

"Yeah."

"Are ... are you going to do it?"

Carlos rolled his eyes. "Who the fuck would I ask? I know only two firecasters I could trust with my true name. My choices are you, or Captain Luccio with a strap-on!"

"Do you think Luccio would go for it?"

Carlos and I exchanged a glance and I think I might have held it together if he hadn't giggled. But he did, and we were gone. It took us several minutes to stop laughing.

"Oh, man," said Carlos, wiping his eyes. "Can you picture her face if I asked?"

"Man, after what she told me in New Mexico, I'm almost afraid to."

"Heh."

We sat there for a moment and then I looked at him. "You'd really trust me with your true name?"

He blushed. "Well ... you know ... if I absolutely had to. Don't make a big deal out of it."

Except it kind of was.

With someone's true name, you can do a whole lot of things to them, many of these exceedingly unpleasant, without them being able to stop you.

Ever since I'd been introduced to the White Council, I'd been met with nothing but suspicion, sometimes to the point of harassment. That Carlos would trust me that much ... well, it meant a lot.

"I'll do it. You know ... if you want me to."

Carlos's jaw dropped. "I beg your pardon?"

"I'm just saying. You know. I don't know anything about doing guys, so I'll probably need info, but I'll do it. You're my friend."

Carlos looked dumbstruck. "You'd really do it?"

I nodded.

I'd never thought about doing it with guys before ...

Much.

Oh, shut up. You try having an incubus for a roommate. And if you really want to pile on the trauma, make it one you're related to.

But still, I didn't doubt I could do it. What I don't do is casual. This was anything but. I'd have had issues about my masculinity except that thanks to my pest of a brother, half the people I knew already though I was gay anyway.

So mostly, it was up to Carlos.

He stood up and I did the same. He looked nervous, almost skittish, but he was flushed and his boxer-briefs left little to the imagination: I could see he was getting hard.

"Do you ... You could do it ... now?"

I had no idea. My stomach felt oddly light and despite the heat I was shivering and I really couldn’t say.

I walked up to him. "Only one way to know."

I grabbed his head, sliding my fingers through short black curls, then I tilted his face up, looking down into his eyes, wide-open and terrified, and I kissed him.

It was just a brush of my lips against his at first, soft and intimate, tasting his breath. He smelled of beer and lime and sweat. Then I licked his lush bottom lip and his mouth opened as if by magic. He made a choked sound as I tasted the inside of his mouth. It was strange, because the kiss was so calm. Unhurried. The women I'd kissed had been fierce and gave as good as they got. Carlos didn't so much kiss back as melt into the kiss, surrendering completely. His body was hot and flush against mine and I was so hard it hurt.

The shock of that realization snapped me out of my daze. I took a step back to try to regain my composure, or however much you can regain when you're in your underwear and seconds away from ruining it from kissing another dude.

This wasn't what I'd expected. At all.

"Carlos, my friend, I could definitely do it now. But what's the ritual?"

He took his boxers off and I did the same. He started chanting softly in something that wasn't Spanish and a floral scent suddenly spread through the room. Carlos's incantation increased in pace and volume until it reached its apex and the only thing I recognized was his true name, each syllable echoing with strange depths.

He then gave me his usual roguish smile. "Now you fuck me."

I grabbed my cock and squeezed hard so this wouldn't end before it started. My voice sounded raspy and breathless to my ears. "Do you have ... stuff?"

He shook his head. "No stuff. Just us."

I looked him in the eyes. "Are you sure?"

He nodded.

He got on the bed on all fours and I could see the muscles of his back rippling beneath tan skin covered in beads of sweat. Damn, he was beautiful.

Carlos didn't have a clue, but this wasn't entirely new territory for me. I'd had anal sex before, and I knew that with no preparation, he'd be in so much pain that I would never be able to perform. I thought about it for a moment and I couldn't believe what I was about to do, but I didn't give myself time to think. I put my hands on his ass, round and firm and smooth, I spread his cheeks apart and I licked one broad swipe along the crack.

Carlos made a sound like a cat in heat and almost levitated off the bed.

That too was unexpectedly familiar. I'd been told before I gave great head from ex-girlfriends, and Carlos seemed to agree because in a matter moments I had him mewling with pleasure, pushing his ass against my face. He was shaking badly and when I reached between his legs to caress his balls and feel his cock, half-kind, half-curious, he sobbed brokenly.

Once I felt that he was relaxed enough, I pushed in with my index finger. By the time I'd reached the second knuckle, he was noticeably less hard, but still shaking. I wiggled my finger a bit and twisted and Carlos scared the hell out of me when he almost jumped off the bed.

Then in a voice so harsh I could hardly recognize it, he ground out. "Harry, will you just stop being such a fucking tease and get on with it?!"

I did as I was told. My own cock was slick with precum and I smeared it around to make sure I would slide in easily. Then I knelt behind Carlos, lined up my cock with his ass with one hand, grabbed his hip with the other and I started pushing in. I tried with all my might to go slow but that virgin ass was so tight and hot I thought I was going to go quietly mad. Carlos was muttering a steady stream of obscenities in Spanish. By the time I was halfway in, I just lost it; I grabbed his other hip and pulled him down on my cock.

Carlos howled.

I reached for his head and pulled him by his hair until he was up, his back snug against my chest, then I bit him on the back of his neck as I reached around and played with his cock. It had gone soft from the pain of the penetration, but after a few minutes with no movement other than me fondling Carlos, it started to fill in again.

There was a delicious thrill to fucking Carlos and the way he yielded to everything I did to him, never really resisting, pleading for more, craving my touch. I could get dangerously used to this. I stroked him until he was full and hard again, a heavy pleasant weight in my hand, and then I started to rock my hips, reaching for his nipple with my other hand.

I licked up the side of Carlos's neck, then nibbled at the corner of his jaw. The stubble was a new intriguing sensation I wanted to explore.

I could see that Carlos's eyes had practically rolled back inside his head and there was foam at the edge of his lips; he looked like a man possessed, but he was still with me somehow, and he started writhing, his ass meeting every thrust.

It wasn't long before I couldn't take it anymore. I gave his cock three harsh strokes, and then I held him as tight as I could as I came inside him, the orgasm like an earthquake, one violent enough to shatter rocks into dust and erase any concept of balance.

We both collapsed on the bed, breathless and dazed. I was still spooning him, still inside him, trapped in a primitive endorphin haze that told me that I should keep him with me forever, so I could fuck him like that again and again and again.

Eventually, I somehow shrugged off the Cro-Magnon mindset and started pulling out of him. We both gasped in pain. It was slimy and unpleasant. I checked his ass carefully and I could see blood on my fingers.

"Carlos, we need to clean you up. I think you're hurt."

Carlos simply groaned.

I dragged him into the shower and washed us both as gently as I could. After a bit, he started responding. Once we were done, I asked to check if he was still bleeding, said that he needed tending, but Carlos just slurred something I couldn’t make out and his hand glowed with blue light as he reached for his own ass.

Then he laughed, mad and loud, like a drunk.

"I still have my magic, Harry. I still have my magic!"

He laughed again and kissed me sloppily, his fingers playing with my chest hair and teasing my nipples, pressing his damp body against mine.

I caught his wrists in my hands and held them, smiling at him. "Easy there, Carlos. Don't kick-start the bike unless you want another ride."

As it turned out, he did want one.