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360iris · 4 days

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This fic’s one year anniversary has passed but… it’s still pretty good if I do say so myself, maybe give it a reread or two 😉💗

Call it bed rest | married bestfriend!layla el faouly x reader x marc spector

6k word count. The trio’s evening wear. brainstormed with @welcometostayingawake

part i. home base—

“Well?” Layla asks persistently. She’s seated on the upholstered maroon bench at the end of your bed, facing away from you to grant you just a modicum of privacy as you finish getting dressed for the evening.

You recognize the tone she’s using. You know it's the one she takes to when she needs to instill more confidence than she might be feeling at the moment. You can see the way she juts her chin forward after she asks, her hands smoothing the warm velvet underneath her fingers.

When she’s met with little else other than the faint rustle of your clothes as you adjust the waistline of your red pleated mini skirt, her head begins to turn towards you.

“Don’t look.” You chastise immediately causing her to stop short.

“I wasn’t trying to!” She says facing forward, expelling an agitated huff. “I just wish you’d say something, the silent treatment is nerve wracking.”

“I honestly don’t know what you want me to say, Layla.” You finally confess with a heavy sigh, busying yourself with rolling up a matching red calf length sock.

“Maybe– Oh, that sounds fun?” She suggests with a shrug of her shoulders.

“Sounds fun?” You laugh with little humor, unbelieving. “You didn’t ask me to go bar hopping. Do you know what you asked me?”

“I’m aware.”

“You asked me to,” You plop down on the side of your bed, spearing your foot into the sock. Pointedly ignoring her sarcastic tone as you continue speaking. Your volume rising the longer you think about the absurdity of her request. “—fuck your husband! Who you’ve been married to, for the last three and a half years!”

“I said that I’d be there too, and it was just an idea.” She defends exasperatedly.

“An idea that you’ve thought about enough to already have Marc ‘fully on board’ as you said, in your own words!

“I’ve heard of a lot of couples that branch out– They ask themselves, ‘Why not? Why not bring in a third? What’s the worst that could happen?’ But what I’m not getting is, why now? Why me? Is your sex life really that bad?”

“Our sex life is fine!” Layla groans, flinging her arms up as she stands to make her way over to you. You’d been decently dressed for a while now.

“I’ll admit we have talked about it more than once.” This causes you to wince but she remains on point, sitting beside you softly. “I just.. thought it’d be something you’d be interested in.

“But look, we can still go out tonight– have a good time? Marc and I will bring you back home safe and sound.” She takes your right hand in hers lovingly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to upset you like this.”

Her genuine tone makes you look away, your eyes flitting about your room as you don’t even attempt to sort through the thoughts and feelings currently cluttering your mind. She was sitting close enough that you could smell the floral notes of her perfume, and feel the way her unruly curls tickled your neck.

“I’m not upset.” The admission comes out in a huff, so you don’t fault her for not immediately believing you. “I’m not upset with you, either of you. Honest. Though if you and Mr. Grumpy Eagle want to get into my pants, you’re gonna have to earn it. I’m talking nothing less than an absolutely stellar night– dinner and drinks, on you.”

“Oh, someone wants a free night out.” She notes jokingly, the corners of her lips starting to perk up.

“Hey let’s not forget, you’re the ones trying to find out what color my panties are. And everyone has a price. Fortunately for you, I’m giving you the discount clearance deal.”

She arches a brow at you quizzically, “What color are your panties? I mean they aren’t just matching everything else? You’re wearing all red tonight.” —lifting a hand to gesture towards your ensemble. The red oversized blazer, red blouse with a bow hand tied at the collar, red leather kitten heel flats and corresponding beret which sat atop your head.

“Maybe I’ll tell you after drinks, if you’re lucky.” You shrug her off with an airy laugh, moving to your vanity desk to get your purse in order. She watches with a fond smile.

“I can’t believe you called Marc, a grumpy eagle? What even is that?” She asks mid laugh, brows knitted as she thought on it.

Trifling through your purses you let out a snort, “Oh, you know. The muppet? It’s a big blueish gray looking thing. Ugly beyond belief, with two venomous caterpillars for eyebrows– I’m not explaining it well, but I’m telling you, Marc frowns just like him.”

“Charming.” You hear an unamused voice sound from the doorway of your bedroom.

Spinning around, you see him standing tall, nose up, chin tilted and shoulders ever square. The perfect picture of the strict, ex-military man you knew him to be.

“Dude– I could’ve been changing in here. Tits could have been to the wind at this very second.” You comment in an unbelieving tone, looking at him with a downturned pout.

His brows knit together in an unmoved but vaguely amused authentically Marc sort of way. “Right. Thankfully for my eyes and your wallet, that wasn’t the case, because you’d be paying for my therapy.”

Throwing the last of your things into a small red leather shoulder bag, you scoff audibly. “Ugh, I swear, I need you people out of my home.”

part ii. dinner—

You can tell the restaurant is flooded from the parking lot alone, but the second Marc holds open the door for Layla and then yourself, the sound of lively chatter and the hustle of workers hits you immediately.

“Can you imagine if we’d forgotten to book a reservation.” Layla notes offhandedly as Marc guides you further inside, an open hand ghosting the small of your back. “We’d have to go somewhere else entirely.”

Trailing behind Layla as she speaks to the hostess, you eye the crowded bar and the bartenders flitting from one end to the other furiously.

Tracking your line of sight, Marc nudges his chin in that direction. “What do you want to get? You can wait here with Layla while I go place our orders.”

“No, I’d rather do it. I don’t mind waiting.” You insist, “Besides who's to say they won’t flee the second they see your mean mug. We’ll all have to make our own drinks because there’ll be no one else left to.”

“Oh, you’re a comedian now, are you?” He scoffs, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his pressed slacks and rolling his eyes just as Layla tries in vain to hide her growing smile.

“Yeah, I'm the funniest.” You reply with a shrug, “Anyway, I’ll go. What do you want me to get you?”

–and just as you’re walking away you can hear the words “It wasn’t even that funny.” and the reply, “I don’t know, I thought it was.”

To your surprise you’re standing at the bar for less than a minute before a bartender slides over, “And what can I get for the gorgeous woman in red? Cupid send you to make my night easier?”

He asks with a smile so infectious you can’t help but mirror it.

Although before you can word a reply, a tall and dark form slips in beside you. “Did you have anything in mind, Red? Or would you be okay with me ordering for you?” They ask smoothly, voice like melted brown sugar and butter.

The person you see before you is slender, pale and androgyny personified. Blonde hair cut mid length on the top and shaved at the sides, their lids bordered and smokey with black eye shadow– nose, ears and fingers lined with all silver jewelry.

All tight ripped black jeans, leather jacket open just enough to confirm there wasn’t anything underneath and artsy line art tattoos that hid past their collarbones just enough to play hide and seek behind the worn material of their outer garment.

“By all means,” You reply with muted intrigue, watching as they ordered for both of you, the bartender slinking away in faint surprise.

“Did you know that Orangutans share ninety-seven percent of their genes with humans and that they’re the most intelligent of all the primates?” They suddenly ask, making you chuckle from the comically random conversation starter.

Resting a hand against the aged bar, you look over the wall of alcohol before shrugging, lips pulled into a playful smirk. “That doesn’t mean much, humans share eighty percent of their genes with tapeworms.”

“I think the last thing I’d want to share my jeans with would be a tapeworm.” They answer back, eyes squinted introspectively.

“Only two out of five of them, last I heard they’re more into capris.”

And then they’re leaning in just a little closer as to extend their hand to you in greeting. “So you’re beautiful and quick-witted, I like it. I’m Aura."

You’re looking down at their slender hand, your eyes glossing along the few healed nicks and scrapes along the backside and the black nail polish chipped at the edges, when familiar manicured palms glide around your waist, coming to rest on your hips as Layla stands beside you with a big smile.

Just as you turn to her, you find Marc looming closely behind you, meeting your eye and holding your gaze as Layla speaks, her face inches away from your own.

“They’re ready to show us to our table so I came to get you, we can wash our hands before ordering.”

“What about the drinks?” You ask, your brows knitting together challengingly at the odd look Marc’s giving you– neither of you moving to break it.

“Marc said he’d get them.” Layla answers breezily, looking over to Aura who stares at the trio in front of them perplexed.

“Right… Well, I don’t mean to intrude.” You hear them say slowly from behind you.

“They’d just bought me a drink.” You recall suddenly, gesturing over your shoulder with an extended thumb.

“I’ve got you tonight, remember?” Marc speaks for the first time since arriving in front of you and you know he’s referring to all your dining expenses being covered by them for the evening, though you can’t help but think that the bill isn’t the only thing he’s alluding to.

Your chest twinges as you tilt your head back, your lips parting as you inhale.

“Are you two really having a staring contest now, of all times? Come on, before our table ‘fit for three’ miraculously transforms into a ‘family of six’ zone.” Layla says more urgently, pulling you out of your stand-off and away from Aura.

“We’ll meet you at the table, Marc.” She says finally before turning to Aura briefly, “Lovely to meet you, thanks for watching out for her.” —though she doesn’t linger long enough to hear their reply, coaxing you along with her, a firm hand wrapped around your waist.

part iii. drinks—

The rooftop bar they bring you to is stunning. All sleek gazebos, minimalistic outdoor furniture and night sky.

The three of you are tucked into a secluded corner overlooking the skyline when Layla reaches the end of her drink, “I’m going to turn this in and go to the restroom. Do either of you want anything else?”

Shaking your head, you fix a curl blown out of place by the evening air, tucking it behind her ear. “Do you want me to come with you?”

“No.” She smiles, pressing a doting kiss against the apple of your cheek. Briefly caressing Marc’s arm before turning away. “I’m fine, I’ll manage.”

“K’ay.” You answer, grasping your drink a little closer as you go back to looking over the skyline in her absence. Your eyes drift over to Marc who’s leaning with his back to the wall in front of you, only to find he’s already looking at you– his stare heady and intense, and you can’t hold it for very long.

Choosing to take another sip of your drink, he speaks up.

“Why did you agree to come out tonight?” He asks in a low voice.

“What do you mean?” You turn to look at him, confused. “Layla asked me to.”

“No,” He shakes his head, not accepting your answer. “Tonight of all nights you agreed to come out. Knowing what it meant, and yet you still agreed to come. Why?”

“I mean, is it such a big deal?” You ask quietly, grasping at straws to avoid the topic of which you know is only a matter of time before he gets to it. Before he speaks it out loud and there’s no longer any way for you to avoid the inevitable, or deny the truth.

“I know she asked you earlier this evening. And you’re smart enough to know there’s only two ways tonight ends.”

“And what are my options?” You ask, finally meeting his gaze.

“We take you out to dinner, you finish your drink and we get you home safely. Just a nice evening out, meal covered. Our treat.”

“And the other?”

“We take you out to dinner, you finish that drink in your hand and we get you home. Take off each little red layer of clothing until it’s all littering the floor, and we fuck you til the only names you can remember are our own.

“But that option is why I want to know why you agreed to come. Because I know Layla, and you do too. And no matter what she says, it wouldn’t be just a one time thing. She’s too good, too loving for that. She’d put all her eggs into that basket. She’d be yours.”

“And what about you, Marc?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper as you look at him, really look at him.

You watch as his face gives away nothing, and the two of you stand there for a moment in a stand off of sorts. Because that’s how it is with the both of you. You’re too much alike. Both toeing the line, getting as close as you can to intimacy, to knowing and trusting a person without fully giving all of yourself over.

Was Layla the exception to that rule, or just further evidence of it? Some days you felt like you’d never really known the answer to that question.

But something always told you that you couldn’t do that with him. Couldn’t hide or conceal because there’d always be some tell tale, some sign.

He’s really close to you now, inches apart, you can feel him breathing. “I asked first.” He whispers, and your lashes flutter because this is what you’d wanted to avoid (even if you’d done such a shit job at it so far.)

You could feel yourself on the edge. Looking away, you whisper. “I wouldn’t belong to myself anymore.”

He nods softly, mirroring your volume. “Then who would you belong to?”

And though you shake your head you don’t pull away, locked so completely under his stare “Marc, please.”

“Do you trust us?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“The kind I think you know the answer to, even if you’re just too stubborn to answer.”

“You’re an asshole.” You mumble.

“So I’m told.” He nods.

“And I hate you for badgering me like this.”

“I can tell.” He answers.

“Loving you, both of you, would be something I wouldn’t come back from.” He’s got a hand in your hair, he's cupping your cheek and looking at you softer than you think you deserve. More in love with you than you think he should be. “You’d clean me out. I wouldn't have anything left to give anyone else.”

“Good.” He nods, “Because after tonight, I can’t stomach the fucking thought of there being anyone else for you.” —and he cranes his head forward to kiss you.

And you let him.

Marc is gentle, his lips against yours even moreso. Being under his palms, pulled against his chest as close as you can get, practically short circuits your brain and you almost lose the grip you had on your glass.

He takes your breath and you’re very loosely considering never breathing again if it meant you wouldn't have to part from him. But perhaps, for the best, he pulls away.

Both hands either in your hair or cradling your cheeks as he wordlessly kisses your temple and your forehead before reaching a greeting arm out from either of you, and you turn right as Layla approaches.

“What’s all this?” She asks, eyes soft and wide. Face pleasantly surprised as he wraps his free arm around her shoulders, bringing her in until you’re both chuckling.

“This, is proof that it’s time to take Red home.”

part iv. there’s no place like home—

You thought the moment the three of you returned to the four corners of your room, it’d be weird, just in general.

Layla wipes that notion from your mind the second you push past the door, when her lips press against yours, hungry and searching as she walks you backwards until your calves hit the side of your bed.

Her fingers are burrowed in the sheer fabric of your blouse, undoing the sizable bow that rests at your collar as she kisses you incessantly.

The two of you breaking into indulgent laughter when one kiss aims a little higher than the rest and she ends up planting it on the tip of your nose. Though, her laughter particularly livens when you return the favor.

Marc watches from the door, his hands burrowed into the pockets of his black slacks as he leans against the wooden frame. A fond smile playing on his lips as he watches you enjoy yourselves. No explicit need to rush into the action presents itself when he can take a step back and appreciate the view. This moment had been a long time in the making.

Layla takes her time freeing you of your clothes. Cherry picking what garments she wanted to remain while nyxing others, and in other moments, checking with Marc to gain his insight.

And by the time she presses you onto your back in bed, you’re left wearing only your skirt and socks.

“You know,” Marc pipes up, lifting himself from leaning against the wall to stand behind Layla as she stood over you. “I think it’s only fair if she’s not the only one losing layers.”

“I mean I only have two, but I see your point honey.” She replies rather thoughtfully, taking the time to act as if she’s thinking it over as he moves her hair to one side. Slowly kissing from the nape of her neck to her shoulder as she hums appreciatively.

Biting your lip, you watch in awe as he fiddles with the thin creme satin straps of her flowy, pleated dress.

His other hand rises to coax her chin towards him, their lips locking amorously as he gradually pulls the straps down her arms. More and more of her body comes into view until the shimmering, soft material lies at her feet and you’re marveling at her beauty.

Left in only her underwear, your attention is drawn to her breasts as her skin acclimates to the temperature of the room.

You catch Marc’s eye right as you rise to your knees, a deliciously devious plan is wordlessly communicated between the two of you in an instant and Layla’s none the wiser as he kisses her. His hands roam the curves of her hips and wide expanse of her breasts as you situate yourself in front of her.

Your mouth starts at her open throat, your warm lips catching her by surprise when you begin kissing and hungerily mouthing at her skin. Working your way lower, from her collarbones to her chest.

Women are soft, but Layla’s the softest woman you’ve ever come across and you indulge in this fact as greedily as you can.

Starting on the left side, you kiss the swell of her breasts. Diligently licking, sucking and biting there before switching to the other.

Your lips travel down her sternum, kissing her stomach and going lower until you’ve reached your destination.

Resting her head against Marc’s shoulder, you guide his left hand to her left thigh, it doesn’t take long for him to get the message.

Guiding her to put her weight against his chest, he hooks her left leg over his arm and thanks to the low height of your bed, you’re easily at the ideal height for your goal.

Layla rests a hand in your hair as you get situated and you rest your left hand over hers. “We’ve got you. Marc’s got you, baby.”

Holding her gaze, you begin rubbing her clit in tight circles. Setting into a fixed rhythm before bringing your mouth to her core, keeping your tongue flat as you lick into her.

“Oh, fuck.” She moans, sighing heavily as her hips begin working against your face. Whines increasing in volume as you pressed forward, your nose resting against her mound as you gradually built her up.

You kiss at her folds messily, gathering your saliva and her arousal onto your tongue and using it to your advantage as you eat her out.

Chin and throat drenched with your combined fluids, you moan into her cunt when a particularly strong suck against her puffy folds causes her to pull at your roots. Her words bordering nonsensical ecstasy as she fucks herself against your face, her clit swollen and throbbing as she nears her high.

“Look how good she’s being for you, baby. That’s our girl’s face you’re fucking, isn’t it? She’s working so hard. You gotta cum on her tongue sweetheart. I think she’s earned it. What do you say, hm?” Marc’s words wax filthy as he coaxes her further over the edge.

Hearing him speak in such an explicit manner only propels you forward as you groan into her, rubbing her clit in tighter, faster circles. Though it seems that you aren’t the only one he lights a fire under as her cunt starts clenching against your tongue. Her hips rocking consistently against your face, knocking your head back and forth until she’s orgasming.

Her breath hitches as she jerks against you. A sharp exclamatory scream filling the space when you drag your tongue against her clit, licking lazily until her sporadic jolts finally mellow out.

Marc lays her down on the bed gently and you take the moment to get off of your knees, settling down onto your bottom right as he kneels in front of you.

Hooking an arm around your waist, your laugh comes out hoarse as he licks at your throat, his mouth eventually finding yours as his free hand cups your face.

Your thoughts seem to be developing the habit of shuffling out of order the second Marc kisses you.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you sink into the embrace, your fingers tangling in the soft dark curls at the base of his neck.

When he pulls back you’re left a little lighthearted but proving to be none the worse for wear when you peck his lips for one last kiss before unraveling yourself from him to check on Layla.

Resting a hand along her sternum she hums quietly when you call her name, her eyes opening as her breathing steadily evens out.

“Hey.” She greets and you and Marc can’t help but softly chuckle at how unbelievably fucked out she is.

“Hi.” You answer, pressing a doting kiss against her collarbone. “Should we get you some water? We can take a moment to pause if you need to be cuddled.”

She laughs heartily, bringing an arm over her forehead as she rests on her back. “I’m okay, you two can continue. I’ll just.. enjoy the show.”

“For future reference, maybe I shouldn’t go down on you again.” You suggest outwardly, rubbing her hair.

“Or do.” Marc chuckles, patting her feet supportively before rising from his knees.

“You know,” You begin in a mischievous tone, moving towards the edge of the bed again. “I think it’s only fair if you lose some layers too.”

“Which do you have in mind?” He asks, running his fingers through your hair.

Bringing your hands to his waist, you begin unbuckling his belt. Holding his eye as you untuck his black button down, “This.” —unbuttoning it from the bottom, up, until he’s able to slip it off his arms.

“And this.” You add, biting your lip as you unhook his slacks and slip open the zipper.

“And these.” You say finally, hooking your fingers under the waistband of his briefs and sliding the material down his thick legs.

“Leaving the socks on, are we?” He asks, amused when his cock bobs free from its confines, knocking against your chin and into his stomach with a wet slap.

“That way we’re matching.” You answer back distractedly, tastebuds taking in the salty tang of the precum that splashed against your lip.

Mouth salivating when he taps your cheek to draw your eye, his hand holding your chin. There’s a smug smirk playing on his lips but his eyes are soft, caring. You don’t think you’ll get enough of him, your feelings for him already consuming you. When he says, “Think you can handle it? Be a big girl, suck me off?”

The sly jab makes you smile despite yourself, your eyes fiery as you maintain eye contact. Grabbing him from the base of his cock and bringing your mouth to his balls, your nose rubbing against his skin. “Fuck you, Spector.”

“That’s the point,” He starts, words cut short when your mouth— warm, wet and inviting, engulfs his testicles in one fell swoop. His chest rises and falls as he breathes heavily, his chin to his chest and his hands cradling your face.

You suck at the sensitive skin tentatively, taking your time so he can feel every draw of your lips and caress of your tongue.

Pulling back, you rest your tongue at his shaft. Licking one wide stripe from the base of his cock to the bulbous, leaking tip.

This would be the hard part. Your fingers barely wrapped around him and his length, while not entirely intimidating, would be barely manageable in terms of taking all of him. But you liked a good challenge, and nothing would make you happier in this moment than getting to make Mr. Rough and Tumble, lose his load over a blowjob.

You start slow, lathering up his tip with precum and spit, venturing forward centimeter by centimeter. Your chin is already a mess again but that’s all part of the fun.

When you get to the halfway point, watching your breathing and taking his small thrusts into account, he mistakenly thinks you’ve reached as far as you can go. Inhaling through your nose, relaxing your throat, you go further. Allowing yourself to get greedier as his huffs and puffs get more frequent and his thighs begin to tense.

You’re holding his calves, enjoying the weight just starting to push into your esophagus when you feel hands caress your thighs.

The feeling of Layla pressing into your back is welcomed as she looks over your shoulder, rubbing your sides soothingly, coaxing you to continue.

You notice the moment Marc meets her eye and she speaks, her voice even and seductive. “Why are you so quiet, baby? Haven’t you always wanted to know what it’d feel like to fuck her throat?”

Marc’s hips stutter, cursing under his breath when he looks back down at you to find one of your brows arched questioningly at him.

Pushing forward, you can’t help the little gags and breaths that slip past your lips as you finally reach his hilt.

With your nose buried in his pubes and your throat filled to maximum capacity, you pat his thighs. Bringing both of his hands to your head, he finally gets the message, although there’s a slight air of uncertainty that you can’t quite place.

“She wants it, Marc.” Layla says reassuringly. “I’ll watch her. You won’t hurt her.”

“You sure?” He asks you, the tips of his fingers slipping into your hair for better purchase. Answering with a bob of your head, he begins thrusting slowly, getting accustomed to the slip and slide of fucking your throat.

Situating his palms at the back of your head, he subtly increases his pace.

“You’re doing so good.” He praises you through breathy gasps and obscenities, unable to control what comes out of his mouth as he fucks yours. “Fu— you’re so good, baby. Taking me so well, I think you were fucking made for me.”

Saliva and precum churns into buoyant bubbles of spit as he picks up speed, the mixture sliding down his cock and onto your breasts and floor.

And the sounds— the consistent wet gurgles, your light gags and his shameful moans which fill the room are obscenely exhilarating and he chases his high accordingly.

Marc cums suddenly and without much preamble or warning to you, or himself apparently, as he pulls out your throat like you’re an oven that burned him.

Tugging at his shaft rather firmly, his cum rushes out of his cock angrily. Five or six jetting, lengthy white ropes connecting with your mouth and chin, and coating your breasts and thighs in a rather elaborate display.

His orgasm leaves his hips jolting periodically, dopamine flooding his senses and overloading his nerves to the point that all he can do is suck in gasps of air as you rub the backs of his thighs, hoping to help him ride through the feeling.

His head tilts backwards as he fills his lungs with a great inhale. A whisper falling past his lips as his eyes flutter closed, “Fuck.” which causes the three of you to chuckle.

You’re still smiling when Layla places a hand at your jaw, turning your head to be met only with her lips. Your eyes flutter shut as you lean into the kiss, a surprised moan slipping past your lips when she begins licking Marc’s cum from your skin.

Tilting your head back to expose your neck, she sucks at your lips, briefly tugging your bottom lip between her teeth. Working her way down your chin, throat and breasts til you’re reasonably ‘clean’.

Lying on her back, part of her legs hanging off the side of the bed— she pulls you on top of her until you’re straddling her form, your knees planted into the fabric of the duvet just under her hips.

Licking into her mouth, you don’t notice how she brings her legs up, hooking them over the backs of your thighs until she pulls your lower half closer to her so you’re spread eagle, her calves locking you into place.

Holding yourself up by your forearms, she wraps her left arm around your neck, massaging your shoulder muscles as the other ventures between the two of you.

Her right hand cups your jaw, the tips of her fingers dragging down your neck and past your collarbones. Holding your gaze, you recognize the mischievous glint in her brown eyes as she traces patterns into your skin.

She feels down your sternum, past your belly button until she reaches between your legs.

Your forehead rests against hers when the pad of her thumb begins pressing firm circles against your clit, the friction is gratifying.

“Layla,” Your voice comes out little more than a whisper. “Layla— fuck. Please.”

“Such a good girl.” She hums appraisingly, her thumb alternating speeds, slowing down only to increase shortly after. “Begging, without me even having to tell you to.”

Pressing your face into the crook of her neck, you whine audibly when she looks over your shoulder to Marc who’d begun palming your ass. “What do you think, Marc? Remember how friendly she was to that stranger at the bar, even though she’d already agreed to be ours for the night? Has she earned it yet?”

Looking over your shoulder, you can see Marc take a moment to think as he spreads your cunt apart with his right thumb. The action making butterflies flutter in your stomach when he dips the tip of his finger into your arousal, smearing it against your folds as he finally gives a confirmating nod.

Layla laughs softly when you let out a sigh of relief, resting your head beside hers as Marc tugs at his cock.

Making room for himself between your thighs, he rubs his thumb over your cunt, moving to insert a cautionary finger when you wiggle away from it.

“I’m already so fucking wet, Marc. Just fuck me.” You’re already breathless, worked up beyond belief and aching for something more satiating than his fingers.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He says apprehensive but you’re having none of it.

“I don’t care if you do,” You confess earnestly. “But you won’t, I can take it.”

Bringing an arm behind your form, you grab ahold of his left thigh. “It’s you, I trust you. And you’ll take care of me, won’t you baby? You promised to, remember?”

Cursing under his breath, he nods his head again, rubbing the angry red tip of his cock in your slick before pushing in.

Wanting, really wanting to be fucked is a feeling like no other. But the moment a cock finally slides into you after having to wait is a whole other sensation entirely.

The noise that racks through your chest is a mixture of a sob, a laugh and a moan. Layla runs a hand through your hair as you nuzzle into her.

Marc moans alongside you, undoubtedly shocked by how easily you take him. Your cunt accepts him almost all at once, only proving your point as you clench around him for more.

His pace is firm and steady, pressing yours and Layla’s chests together as he sets into a rhythm. Your hips bumping against hers with every thrust.

Marc loses himself in you so easily, his brow quickly becoming sweaty as he fucks into you. His hair disheveled and sticking to his forehead, his mouth agape as he pants.

“Marc never stood a chance, did he sweetheart? He already looks so close. How about we level the playing field?” Layla comments, restarting her thumb against your swollen bud. The pleasure is satiating, bordering on mind numbing.

“Do you like it?” She asks you as you moan into the duvet. “Are you gonna cum on his cock? Get it nice and wet for me, angel?”

“Fuck,“ It’s Marc that answers instead, his hips stuttering for just a moment— Layla always knowing exactly what to say to rile him up.

“Are you gonna cum inside her, baby? Fill her up nice and full til she’s dripping?” She continues and he’s exhaling loudly, the back of his neck and ears reddening.

“You’re so fucking filthy.” Is all he responds, his hips straining and thighs flexing as he ups his pace til he’s quite literally fucking moans out of you.

“I’m close!” You’re babbling now, “Fuc— Cum inside me, Marc, Please! Wanna feel you.”

“Cum for me first.” He replies, his right hand leaving your hip to grip your left shoulder to better his leverage, his thrusts becoming punishing as his length disappears into you only to reemerge slick with your arousal, his pubes soaked with you. The room almost echoing with the wet sounds of your hips meeting as his balls slapped against your skin.

“Don’t stop. Don’t stop, please! Oh-” You’re suddenly hit with a blinding white shock, your body tensing as Marc rides you through it before he groans loudly and your walls are plummeted by short, warm bursts.

Sobbing into Layla’s shoulder, you’re coherent enough to know he doesn’t pull out immediately. Marc instead waiting until his cock falls soft before pulling out.

Your walls clench at the empty feeling, allowing his cum to slowly leak out, though before it can escape, Layla brings her hand to your puffy lips, her fingers smearing the viscous liquid against your cunt before venturing to your sensitive clit.

She smiles, both at the way Marc’s eyes are drawn to her coated fingers and at how your hips jolt, unable to get far from her hand.

“Y’know, if you give him a second.. I think he'll be able to go again baby.”

#moon knight smut #marc spector smut #layla el faouly smut #marc spector x reader #layla el faouly x reader

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