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Couple Skate (Mary Goore x f!Reader)

Summary: Another date with Mary has them trying something for the first and leads the two of you into uncharted territory (aka your bedroom.) (3200 words)

TAGS: NSFW 18+ MDNI, FLUFF, SMUT, slight character injury but nothing serious, he/they Mary.

[This goes along with the other More Goore '24 stories or can be read alone. Choose your own adventure, it's what Mary would want. Or read on AO3.]

“Does that feel good?” you ask, eyes wide as you look up from between Mary’s legs. For a moment all they do is blink at you, but then a sly grin creeps across their face followed by a low chuckle. They cock their head to the side, pulling their lip between their teeth as they adjust in their seat.

“You have no idea, do you darlin’?”

“Wha?” you ask, still staring at him. It was a perfectly normal thing to ask, especially since Mary had never done this before. You still weren’t sure exactly how this whole thing even happened, but it was bound to be an experience for both of you.

It wasn’t until you heard harsh whispers and tsking from several feet away that it dawned on you what he meant.

“The skates you perv!” you huff, giving them a quick slap on the thigh. You’d spent the last few minutes with your knees on a grubby carpet trying to help Mary tighten the laces on a pair of rented ice skates. A couple of uppity moms had covered their kids’ eyes at the sight of the two of you, like you were really planning on sucking his dick in public like that. But you couldn’t care less what those moms thought if it meant Mary wasn’t going to get hurt on your watch. You give the laces another tug before asking again if they felt ok.

“I dunno,” they reply, stretching a skinny leg out past you. They twist their ankle around, flexing their foot against the boot. “Am I supposed to be able to feel my feet?”

“Normally yes, but I wouldn’t be surprised if all your blood rushed somewhere else.”

Mary gives you an easy shrug and leans forward. “Do you really want me to apologize for thinking you’re hot?”

“I want to know if the skates feel ok,” you respond flatly.

“They feel like boots with knives on the bottom, so…metal as fuck?”

“You are so lucky you’re cute, Goore.”

“Pretty sure you’re the cute one, sweetheart.”

You smile softly and climb into the seat next to them. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

“Darlin.” He places a hand under your chin, angling your face toward his. “We can’t just keep going to the bar.”

“Why not?”

Mary looks down, finding a particularly interesting thread on the ripped knee of his jeans. “I don’t…I don’t want you to get bored with me.”

“Goore, you’re like the furthest thing from boring I could imagine.”

“But like…in a good way, right?” they ask cautiously.

“Would I be hanging out with you if it wasn’t in a good way?”

“Hmm,” he hums pretending to think. “I don’t know. You’ve dated some questionable people in the past.”

“Oh and you haven’t?” you challenge, leaning over to pinch their side.

“What can I say?” they ask with a laugh. “I was a fool until now.”

“I’m gonna leave your ass here,” you grumble.

“No, you won’t. You like me too much.”

“You’re ok, I guess. Pretty good at building a fort.”

“You want me to make you another? A two bedroom, two bath dream house— “

“I want you to do what you want to do.”

“Hey,” he says softly. “I am doing what I want to do. You think I would be in a place like this if I didn’t want to be here with you?”

You look up, taking in the scene around you. Obnoxious, loud pop music blasts overhead—a song neither one of you know—while the happy shouts of children and other couples cut through the sound of blades scraping across the ice. It’s a wholesome swirl of rosy cheeks, colorful fabric, and bright lights; a pleasant little afternoon of family fun with you and Mary looking completely out of place like a couple of ghostly apparitions.

“Honestly? I’m not sure how we ended up here in the first place,” you admit. “But no, I don’t think you make a habit of doing anything you don’t want to.”

“Exactly! Now, help me broaden my horizons or whatever other motivational shit people say. Teach me to skate!”

“I’ll try my best, Goore. What are you going to teach me after this?” you ask as you help them to their feet.

“I’m sure I could think of a couple things,” he replies lowly, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

You roll your eyes.

Helping Mary to their feet is one thing but getting them to the ice is far more complicated. They’d never skated in their life and they’d clearly never walked in skates before. You try your best to correct the stiff and rigid movements that made them look about as graceful as Frankenstein’s Monster, but there was only so much you could do until they felt comfortable enough.

It isn’t any easier on the ice, but at least there’s a wall to help keep him upright.

Still, you’re impressed by the fact that Mary is willing trying something new at all, just because it was something you thought was fun. Most of the people you dated weren’t as interested in anything you cared about and they certainly going to try it. But Mary’s different in more ways than you can count, so much so that it keeps you awake some nights. You’ve worried yourself sick thinking about how you might like them too much, but there’s no one else you’d rather be sharing these things with.

He flinches as a tiny kid whizzes past, his hold on your hand tightening even more. He is a giant ball of nerves wrapped in leather and spikes, all sweaty palms and calloused fingers locked in a death grip as you slowly pull him around the rink. You’re sure it’s an entertaining sight to see, something like an eldritch terror helping a zombified baby deer in corpse paint waddle across a frozen pond. But right now, no one else matters. It’s just you and Mary on the ice.

After a couple of laps they start to get the hang of it, remembering to bend their knees to keep their balance. They smile brightly at you as they make a full pass without wobbling.

“Darlin’, look!” Mary shouts excitedly. They start to push off, slowly picking up speed as the blades slide over the ice. The first little stumble fills their face with panic, but they quickly recover and gain enough confidence to skate a little ahead of you. “Look! I did it!”

You trail behind them, watching in wonder as your spooky, metalhead boyfriend continues skating on his own…

…for about 30 seconds before he hits a bad patch in the ice and completely wipes out. He drops like a stone, limbs going everywhere as his body lands hard. The momentum he’d built up keeps him sliding across the ice until he comes to rest with a solid thud against the wall.

“Mary!” you shout and take off. You hate how scared you sound, heart pounding hard as you wonder if he’s hurt or worse. You skate hard, nearly taking out a hoard of laughing children in your rush to reach him. As you approach, Mary lets out a loud groan and rolls onto their back, staring up at you.

“Darlin’, there are much easier ways to get me on my back,” he groans, wincing as he shifts. “Less painful ones too, unless that’s what you’re into.”

You shake your head and kneel next to him, quickly swiping at the tears forming in your eyes. “Mary, are you ok?”

“I think I broke my ass,” he informs you through gritted teeth. “Is it ok if I don’t wanna do this anymore?”

“Yeah, absolutely,” you agree with a nod.

As a single tear slides down your cheek, Mary cracks a cocky smile. He reaches up, wiping the tear away with his thumb. “You worried about me, sweetheart?”

“Yes, idiot!”

“Told you. You like me too much.”

“Yeah, I do. Now, let’s get you off the ice, ok?”

Mary sticks their arms in the air, waving their hands wildly. “Drag me around like a corpse, baby!”

You lean down to kiss him instead, unbothered by the ice now soaking cold, wet splotches into your jeans.

He hums, grinning back at you as you pulled away. “I gotta fall down in front of you more often.”

“Please don’t. Pretty sure my heart stopped.”

Slowly he presses a cold hand to your chest, fingertips searching out the frantic rhythm of your heartbeat. His touch only elevates things, your heart now kicking like bpm of Mary’s songs. Your eyes close as he shifts to his knees and brings a hand to your neck to feel your pulse, counting along in his head. He didn’t know fuck all about math or blood pressure, but he knows now that he made your heart race.

It wasn’t not the first time Mary kisses you like that—a soft, slow press of their lips to yours that meant more than either of you were willing to say. But it is the first time either of you had attempted to do so on ice. You shiver—from the cold or Mary’s touch you weren’t sure, but you knew you needed to get out of there fast.

“Mm, Mary?” you ask, lips still brushing his. “My place?”

“Fuck yeah,” they agree with a nod.

-x-

The front door slams into the wall and bounces back as you and Mary spill through. There’s probably a mark you will have to pay for later, but for now the two of you are too busy stumbling over each other’s feet to be concerned. He kicks the door shut and tries to shake off his jacket without moving away from you, teeth nipping at your bottom lip. You’re so focused on trying to undo at least one of his belts that it doesn’t even phase you when you catch the corner of the coffee table with your leg.

The jacket hits the floor with a soft thump. Mary’s hands move to your face, pulling you closer and closer as he licks into your mouth. A belt follows, free falling from around Mary’s hips because the stupid thing wasn’t functional—it was just in your way. Your jacket is next, worked away from your shoulders by his impatient hands. You find success with the other belt and manage to get his shirt over his head while he pulls at yours. Clothes and boots litter the hallway like breadcrumbs—a trail that leads straight to your dimly lit bedroom.

You land on the bed and pull Mary on top of you, legs tangling as you fight to slot your mouths back together. It’s a frenzied mess of hands and lips and tongues and teeth on skin that feels feverish, so hot you think you might combust. But you don’t want to stop, you can’t stop—not when his chest heaves like that.

“Fuck,” they groan, low and loud as they move to kiss your neck. They know that space below your ear drives you fucking crazy and they waste no time leaving an angry mark on your throat before moving down to mouth along your collarbone.

You draw a finger over the lines and obscure symbols etched into their arms. Up their biceps and across their shoulder where the ink spills onto their chest and disappears into the soft patch of light hair. You imagine Mary in their little bathroom with a shitty box dye and—Satan help you—you only want them more.

His breath hitches as your hands travel down their ribs, fingertips itching to touch the rest of him. He kisses you hard, almost desperate, but his own hands remain at an infuriatingly polite distance. A simple “please, Mary” whispered against his lips is all it takes to get Mary’s hands everywhere, those calloused fingers tracing over your tits. He’s rough in a way that feels perfect, pinching one nipple while biting the other to make you whine for him.

“C’mere,” he hums, urging your leg around his hip. He presses his forehead to yours, eyes closed tight as you brush against his length. “Fuck, darlin’.”

“Well, yeah, that’s the idea,” you tease and grind against them for emphasis.

“You’re trouble,” Mary quips, shaking their head. He moves to kiss your neck, trailing up to your ear to whisper, “ask me again.”

The words go straight to your center and Mary doesn’t miss the way you tremble against him. “Please, Mary,” you repeat softly. “Please touch me.”

When you see that devilish grin you know you’re probably going to regret giving him that kind of power, but as his hand slips between your legs, you stop caring about anything that isn’t the way Mary feels. His hand dips into your panties, fingers curving up to press against your entrance. Slowly, he pumps them in and out, carefully memorizing whatever actions pull the most sounds from you as he works you open. It’s all you can do to even the score and as you palm him over his boxers, the sound he makes has you feeling victorious already.

He withdraws his fingers and pushes his boxers down to coat his thick length with your slick. You never really had a chance at winning this game against him, but you’re happy to keep playing if it means getting fucked by Mary Goore.

“You’re so fucking good for me, darlin’,” he purrs, stroking his cock as he looks at you. He edges backward, trailing kisses over your stomach and inner thighs as he makes his way down. He moans loudly as he tastes you for the first time. The sound and the feeling has your thighs trying to press together, but Mary holds you in place as he draws his tongue over your swollen clit.

Your hands find his hair and he moans again as you tug roughly at the soft strands. His fingers push into your entrance, working at the same rhythm as his mouth. It’s too much and not enough, but fuck he feels too good. You barely manage the words before your hips raise to meet his touch. All you can do is let it wash over you, crying out his name as the world crashes down in the best way. He watches you shake, giving you just enough time to form a coherent thought before his mouth is on yours, the taste of yourself still on his tongue.

“Fuck, Mary,” you mutter against his lips and wrap your arms around his neck to keep him close.

“Is this what you want, sweetheart?” he asks, his voice low as he drags the tip of his cock through your folds. “You want me to fuck you?”

It’s so hot you want to strangle them, but you’re not about to fuck this up so you bite your lip and nod instead. It’s all the confirmation Mary needs. He captures you in a bruising kiss and swallows your moans as he guides himself to your entrance. His cock is so thick the stretch of him has you keening and clawing at his arms until he’s finally fully seated inside you. He stills himself, letting you get used to the feeling, but you kind of hope you never do. There’s soft kisses and words while they’re checking in with you, making sure you’re ok before they start to slowly pull out. A quick snap of his hips has you begging for more and that cocky smile of his returns. The whole thing is so unbelievably Mary that you really shouldn’t be surprised that he’s as skilled with his cock as he is with his hands or his mouth. But you’re more than happy to find out this way.

You’re just as surprised when Mary pushes your knees apart and hits an angle that nearly sends you over the edge way too quickly. It doesn’t stop him from trying again and again and again with that fucking grin on his face as you try desperately not to wake up everyone in the building. He pins your wrists to the bed and pounds into you a little harder each time you moan for him with your lip between your teeth, trying so hard to stay quiet.

With a few more thrusts of his hips and some filthy words, you’re coming undone beneath him, too fucked out on Mary Goore to know which way is up. It hits you hard, another white-hot wave sparking through your entire body and the only thing you can do is hold onto him as you ride it out. He groans as you tense around him, waiting for you to stop shaking before teasingly asking if you’re ok. Instead of replying you raise your hips, using your leverage to push Mary onto their back. You lock eyes with him as you lower yourself onto his length, mouth falling open as he fills you again. Before they can make some smartass remark, you move your hips, finding a pace that has both of your eyes rolling back. It’s all too much as Mary fucks you harder, his fingers working at your sensitive clit while asking you—begging you—to come for him again. It doesn’t take much, not with the way he asks and the way he thrusts into you like he already knows exactly how to fuck you. The third orgasm hits even harder, tears slipping from your eyes as overstimulation sets in.

“Oh fuck, darlin’, I’m gonna cum,” he warns as his grip tightens, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. He tips you onto your back, groaning as he slowly pulls out. He pumps his cock in his fist, eyes locked with yours as he spills across your stomach and marks you once more.

“Fuck. You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he confesses, blissed-out and breathless as he looks at you covered in sweat, cum, and those little marks he’d sucked into your skin.

“You think so?”

“Yeah,” he says with a grin, biting his lip. “Might even be a little bit obsessed with you, darlin’…but in a like… not totally creepy way.”

“Mary Goore? Not creepy?”

He laughs. “Well…ok I’m not going to try to wear your skin, sweetheart. But I think about you an absolutely unhealthy amount.”

“Your post-orgasm honesty is fucking adorable, Goore,” you admit with a smile.

“Ah, well, I guess we will have to keep talking like this.”

“I guess we will.”

Mary sighs and rest on his side, hair softly falling over his eyes. He gives you a shy smile you don’t often see from him, before burying his face in the pillow.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” he mumbles. “It’s stupid. Forget it.”

“C’mon Goore. Tell me.”

“I’m just…” They pause to cringe. “I’m just, ugh I dunno…happy?”

You snort out a laugh. “Well, I would hope so.”

“No, like, not… I mean, yes, happy about that but like…this. You and me.”

“Me and you, huh? Is this your way of asking if I want to be an ‘us?’”

“Kinda thought we were?”

“Yes, but now we’ve said it. That’s like…official official.”

“Officially us, then?” Mary asks and reaches over to tap your nose. “Is that cool with you?”

“Very much.”

He grins brightly. “Well, if that’s settled. Think you can walk ok? Or should I carry you to the shower?”