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mxndoscyarika · 22 days

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Worth It For Once

Frankie Morales x f!reader | 18+ | ao3 chapter word count: 9.6k Taylor Swift Drabble Challenge, song: Slut!

summary: After months of the whispers, rude comments and snide glances from people around town, you’re fed up. You’re trying not to let them get to you, but it’s getting harder to shake it off. And then you meet Frankie Morales.

a/n: this is part of @beskarandblasters' Taylor Swift Drabble (lol) Challenge! My song is "Slut!" from 1989. Sorry, Kel, this isn’t exactly a drabble. Spanish translations provided in parentheses. Thank you as always @katareyoudrilling aka the best beta 🧡

tags/warnings: flirting, banter, food and drink mention, reader has no description other than having a vagina and brief mention of breasts, able-bodied reader, reader’s ex spread mean rumors about her, small town gossip, bartender!reader, derogatory language used in a derogatory way (slut, other things) (not by Frankie), Frankie speaks Spanish and reader understands, pet names (hermosa, baby, querida, bebita), smut: kissing, groping, hickies, oral (f!receiving), p-in-v sex (protected), fingering (f!receiving), cuddling, oral against a wall

...

You could hear them talking about you.

You’d heard your name, which gave it away, but also the words “Chris”, “easy,” and “slut” and, well. You knew.

It’s not like they tried to hide it, really. But you always knew when they were talking about you. If the glances and overheard words didn’t give it away, the laughing whenever you walked by did.

You sighed as you gathered the glasses from the newly empty table by the low stage at the back of the room. “Just ignore them,” Laura had whispered to you earlier. “They’re not worth it.”

As always, it didn't really help.

You carried the dirty dishes back behind the bar and ignored the sudden, ostentatious hush from the corner booth full of guys that you had to pass to get there. They could at least try to be less obvious about it. You locked eyes briefly with Laura, the other bartender on duty that night and your best friend, and she frowned sympathetically. You shook your head in response. You both knew there was nothing you could do about it.

Once you were done dropping off your load in the kitchen, you allowed yourself one brief moment of leaning against the wall of the dark hallway that led back to the bar. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

“Fuck them,” you whispered to yourself. “And fuck him.” You shook your head and heaved yourself back up, heading back to work.

…

“You’d think they’d get tired of it,” Laura remarked, pushing her way back behind the bar with the signed tab from the corner booth. After a couple more hours of irritation they had finally left.

“Not so far,” you sighed. “And it’s not just them. They’re just the worst ones.” Chris’ friends hadn’t let up in the 6 months since you’d been broken up and didn’t show any signs of losing interest in making your life miserable.

Laura furrowed her brow and made a disgusted noise. “They’re such assholes. At least he knows better than to come here.”

You nodded. It was the one silver lining around the whole situation – Chris would never set foot in this bar again, if he knew what was good for him. “Bill would kick him out and he knows it.” Bill was your boss and the owner and he had hated Chris even before you’d started dating.

Laura laughed, darkly. “He may be able to lie to most of the town, but Bill would never believe him.” She sighed as she started cleaning up behind the bar. “I don’t know why they all believe him anyway.”

You shrugged. You’d had a lot of time to think about this question, and you were pretty sure you knew the answer. It was simple, in the end. “He’s from here. I’m not.”

With a huff, Laura rolled her eyes. “That’s so stupid. You’re from here, too. You were six when your parents moved to town.”

You smiled a little. She was a good friend, but she was wrong about this. “That’s not enough for them, and you know it.” Them being all the old money families in town, the ones who hadn’t thought you were good enough for Chris in the first place. The ones who heard about your break up and clucked like satisfied old hens, finally proven right. The ones who gossiped about you over brunch and at the golf course every weekend. She was never right for him anyway. He can do better. You knew that’s what they thought – some of them had said it to your face.

But at least your bar wasn’t really their scene.

“God I hate this town,” Laura muttered, violently shoving the dishwasher closed. “How’d we get stuck here, anyway.”

You laughed and nudged her with your elbow. “It’s not so bad. Just have to ignore them.”

She eyed you. “Is that working for you? Ignoring them?”

You bit your lip and turned, trying to hide your face from her scrutiny. “Most days, sure.” You felt her arms come around you from behind and smiled at the hug.

“My offer to punch him still stands.”

Your smile turned into a grin. She’d offered the day of the break up and reminded you often ever since.

“Thank you, but I’ll pass.”

Laura grumbled as you both got busy cleaning up behind the bar and turned to talking about your plans for your upcoming day off. One more day of work and you had almost a whole free weekend, for once. You tried to shrug off your tension from a night of dodging the looks of the many people in this town who’d decided you were worth about as much as a bit of dirt on the bottom of their shoes. It sort of worked.

…

The next day was your last day of work before your day off, but you didn’t work until the evening. You celebrated by sleeping until almost noon.

Once you were awake and showered and feeling generally more alive, you decided to head to the coffee shop downtown for a late breakfast. You ignored the possibility that you might run into one of Chris’ friends there – you’d decided months ago not to let them keep you from doing what you wanted.

You were pleased to see that it wasn’t too busy when you arrived and your favorite table by the window was open and waiting for you. You ordered quickly and snagged it, settling in with your current book.

You glanced up as the door opened with a light jingle a few minutes later and did a double take.

It was him.

Not your ex, thank God, but him – the man who’d been slowly taking over your thoughts and daydreams for the last month or so.

Frankie Morales, recent arrival in town and newbie-turning-regular at the bar you worked at. He’d been flirting with you since the moment you met, and you were living in fear of the day he would hear the rumors and stop.

As he stepped into the shop he removed his hat and ran his hand through his curly hair, which caused it to fluff up and fall cutely around his face. He replaced the hat quickly, though, and glanced around the shop. You started to look away, afraid to be caught, but he met your eyes and grinned.

Changing course, he turned from the path to the counter to walk towards your spot at the window.

“Fancy meeting you here,” his brown eyes twinkled at you as he came to stand next to you. “You busy? Can I join you?” He nodded hopefully towards the empty chair across from you, and you started to smile.

“Sure, Frankie,” you felt hesitant but you didn’t want him to leave. You started to rearrange your belongings to give him some space.

“I’ll order and be right back.” He gestured back over his shoulder at the counter.

You nodded and smiled and tried not to stare as he turned and walked away from you.

There was a short line at the register. You tried to keep from watching him wait there but only succeeded in limiting it to quick glances at him out of the corner of your eye. You couldn’t help but trace your eyes over the way he looked in his jeans and denim shirt. He was so broad. You shook your head, trying to clear it.

Frankie was next in line when the door jingled again, and to your dismay two of the guys who’d just spent the entire previous night laughing at you at the bar walked in. You ducked your head, hoping they wouldn’t notice you. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched in growing horror as they came to stand behind Frankie. You clenched your hands in your lap and tried to breathe.

One of them clearly spotted you and a smirk came across his face that sent your stomach plummeting to your feet. He elbowed his friend and you couldn’t hear what he said, but Frankie clearly could.

His back stiffened and his hands clenched into fists. You desperately wanted to know what they were saying and you really didn’t want Frankie to hear it. You were frozen, wondering if this was it, if this was the end of whatever had been building between you since you met. Wondering if it was over before it even began.

Frankie ordered and you could see the tension in his frame as he tried to ignore the two men behind him when they started to laugh. You couldn't take it anymore and closed your eyes, hiding behind your hands.

Just a moment later you heard footsteps returning to your table.

“Hey,” his voice was low and soothing and you couldn’t help but look up at him. He was still tense, but his face was gentle as he looked at you. “Do you want to get out of here?”

You swallowed, mouth dry. You couldn’t tell if he was offering to go somewhere together, but you shook your head regardless.

“I try not to let them make choices for me about where I go or what I do.” You twisted your fingers together, wondering if that was too direct, too much of an admission. Did he know?

Frankie nodded, a thoughtful frown on his face as he sat across from you. His eyes darted behind you to your right and his frown deepened. You resisted the urge to turn and look.

“Is it always like that?” As he asked, he slid his right hand across the table to touch the back of yours lightly with his fingertips. You shivered.

“Not with everyone.” He slid his hand over yours and squeezed gently. You continued, “but with some people in town, yeah. What–” you cleared your throat. “What did they say?” You needed to know what they’d said in his hearing, but at the same time, you never wanted to know. You’d heard enough.

Frankie shook his head, scowling. “I’m not gonna repeat it.”

You winced.

“Hey,” he squeezed your hand again, leaning towards you. “I’m not listening to them, alright? I promise. I haven’t, and I won’t.”

You blinked, taking that in. He hasn’t? Past tense? “You mean, you’ve heard something– I mean, something else? They said something? Before now?”

Frankie ran his thumb gently over the back of your hand, searching between your eyes for something. “Yes. But I haven’t paid them any attention. I promise, ok?”

You took a deep breath and tried to push back the pricks of emotion you felt building behind your eyes. “I’m sorry, Frankie, I don’t know what you heard but I can imagine, but it’s not–”

“Shh,” he hushed you gently and scooted his chair around the small round table towards you so he could take both of your hands in his. “Hey, no. I promise, I’m not listening to them. I know what small towns are like, hermosa. I know what small people are like. I’d rather hear about you from you. I–” he smiled, a bit sheepishly. “I’ve been trying to get up the nerve to ask you out for weeks.”

You grasped at his hands, clutching where he was already holding them. “You have?”

“Yeah, I have. Just wasn’t sure you’d be interested.” You scoffed and he smiled. He said your name quietly and leaned forward. “D’you want to go out with me?”

You bit your lip. “Are you sure? You know they won’t– they’ll talk. I don’t want them to start with you, too.”

Frankie frowned and looked down. When he met your eyes again his gaze was fierce. It pinned you in place.

“They’ll talk anyway, and I don’t give a fuck what they think.” He squeezed your hands. “I only care what you think. Can I take you out, hermosa?”

You nodded and started to smile.

He smiled back. “When are you free?”

“Well, tomorrow’s my day off,” you started. He grinned when you continued, “how’s tomorrow night?”

He nodded, looking excited. “Baby, I’d love that. Mind if I drop by your work later today, too?”

Baby. You shivered and nodded and as he started to plan your date, you couldn’t wipe the smile from your face.

…

You headed into work that night with the smile still on your face. Frankie had promised to come by the bar that night, so you’d be seeing him soon. That thought combined with your excitement for the date had you floating through the doors of Bill’s bar.

Laura took one look at you and demanded details, which you happily provided as you got ready in the back together.

Laura knew him too, since Frankie and his friend Santiago had first visited the bar almost two months before, when Frankie had first moved to town. His best friend had helped him move and stayed in town for a few days while he got settled, you’d learned that night. Among other things. (Like how pretty Frankie’s eyes were when he smiled at you, and how he hadn’t stopped smiling at you the whole night. How he’d been looking at you like that ever since.)

You knew you’d been standoffish in the beginning. You’d wondered if he’d figured it out, if he’d heard the things they said about you and seen the way they looked at you in town. And now you knew he had, but as you thought back over the time you’d known him, you realized you couldn’t figure out when that might have been. He’d never treated you differently, never stopped flirting with you. Never hesitated, never looked at you with anything but delight and wonder in his eyes.

“So, a date with Frankie, huh,” she nudged you with her elbow as you walked back towards the front together, ready to start your shift.

You nodded. “He’s coming by tonight.” You felt the smile tugging at the edge of your lips where it had made its home since you saw him at the coffee shop. “Not sure when, though.”

She went through the door first, and you heard her laugh. “Now.”

“What?” you asked as you came through. You turned to see what she was looking at.

“Now. He’s already here.” Laura kept laughing as she headed to the other end of the bar and you grinned as you locked eyes with the man waiting for you at the bar. He smiled back and watched you approach.

“Frankie, didn’t you just get done with work like half an hour ago?”

He shrugged. “Wanted to see you, hermosa. Just went home to change and figured, why wait?”

You laughed. “You know I won’t be able to talk to you much, right?” You wanted to stay and chat but you knew work would pull you away, repeatedly.

“I know.” He nodded. “I’ll be here when you’re free.”

The idea of Frankie wanting to see you so badly he’d sit here alone made something twist in your chest. “Ok, Frankie.”

It wasn’t busy yet, so you stayed to chat until some of the regulars started to arrive. Somehow, even with the interruptions of you needing to actually do your job, you felt connected with him like you were on two ends of a string. You’d pour a drink and glance up, and find him already looking at you. Or think about him and look over to find him smiling down at his drink, looking like maybe he was thinking about the same thing.

Laura teased you mercilessly about the smile on your face that you couldn’t seem to get rid of.

Your good mood lasted through the first couple of hours of your shift, but right after the dinner rush you turned towards the taps to find Laura in front of you, scowling.

“What is it?” She shadowed you as you started to pour a couple of pints for the guys at the other end of the bar.

“They’re here,” she whispered, gesturing with her head towards the back corner.

Your shoulders climbed up around your ears at the news. “Of course they are. Which ones?”

She crossed her arms and huffed. “Jared and his buddies.” Jared was Chris’ best friend, and usually the ringleader whenever he wasn’t around.

“Great,” you muttered.

She helped you carry the drinks back. “Hey, you know I’ve got their table. Don’t worry about it.” You nodded and bumped her hip with yours in thanks.

Laura headed over to meet them and you tried to put them out of your mind. They were all the way across the bar from where Frankie was sitting, and you moved back towards him.

He was studying you as you walked up and you knew he’d probably seen them come in. “Is that more of them?” he asked, voice low. You nodded. He sighed. “I’m glad Laura’s got your back.”

“Yeah,” you agreed as you refilled his water. “I usually don’t have to talk to them at all.”

Frankie tilted his head, thoughtful. “Do they come in here just to bother you?”

You sighed and leaned towards him, crossing your arms. “I think so. They never came here before.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Before?” He repeated, obviously curious.

“Before I broke up with their friend. He’s not here, Bill won’t allow it.”

“Good,” Frankie murmured, brow furrowed. “But they keep coming back?”

“At least a few times a week,” you confirmed.

He glanced across the bar at them, frowning. “What do they do?”

You shook your head and reached out to turn his head back to face you. He smiled and tilted his jaw so that his cheek rested against your palm. “Mostly just stare and talk about me. I can’t hear them, usually, but they make it obvious.”

You could tell he wanted to ask why. Why they bothered you, why they did all this. The surprising thing was how much you wanted to tell him.

“I’ll tell you about it later, ok? Not here.” You brushed your thumb over his cheek and his smile grew.

He nodded. “Ok, baby. But you don’t have to tell me anything, it’s like I told you. I want to learn about you from you. There’s no rush.”

You smiled, warmed by his words, and headed back to work.

…

A few hours later, the crowd was winding down and Laura waved you off when you offered to stay and close with her.

“We don’t need you,” she said, gesturing down the bar towards Sean, whose shift had started later than yours. “Go take your man home.” You laughed, and glanced back at Frankie, but he wasn’t looking at you.

He was frowning and looking off to his right because Jared was walking straight towards him.

You squeezed Laura’s arm and she turned to look. “Shit,” she muttered. “Maybe he’s just going to the bathroom.”

You both winced as Jared stopped right beside Frankie’s chair. You started to move towards them, but Jared was already speaking.

“... you shouldn’t bother with her, man, she’s a real piece of work.” Jared’s snooty tone grated on your nerves. It’d been a while since you had to listen to it.

“Excuse me?” Frankie’s voice was low and you could hear the anger in it. He looked absolutely furious, mouth drawn into a straight line, brows furrowed. His hands were clenched on the bar in front of him.

“Hey, ready to go?” You spoke only to Frankie, ignoring Jared, who huffed. “I’m off for the night.” Frankie nodded, visibly taking a deep breath and releasing his fists.

Jared sneered and you caught it out of the corner of your eye. “You know, even for one night she’s not worth the–”

You cut him off before he could say whatever vile thing he was thinking. “Get lost, Jared.”

He huffed again and turned from you to Frankie. “Look, man, I get she’s probably fine in bed, given where she’s been, but I promise you, you don’t want to touch this one with a 10-foot pole.”

Frankie looked like he was thinking about putting Jared on the ground and you decided enough was enough.

“C’mon, Frankie,” you slipped out from behind the bar and tugged him towards the back with you. “Let me grab my stuff and we can go.”

“Hijo de puta,” (son of a whore) Frankie muttered. He made a low sound almost like a growl and you startled. He looked immediately apologetic. “Sorry, baby,” he murmured, leaning in to press a kiss to your hairline. It was the first time he’d done anything like that, and you almost froze in place at how nice his lips felt on your skin. “Let’s go.”

Jared scoffed behind you, but you were already turning away. “Fine, man. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you about the town slut when you regret this later.”

You heard Sean start to threaten to throw Jared out so you grabbed Frankie’s arm and dragged him back to the staff area. He immediately gathered you in his arms as soon as you let the break room door fall shut behind you.

“Mierda,” (shit) he breathed, burying his face in your neck. “That’s the type of shit you’re dealing with? I am so sorry baby.” He pulled you in tighter, and you relaxed into his hold. “I promise I can keep it together. Just took me by surprise, how bad it was.”

“Thank you,” you whispered. “I’ll tell you about it. But let’s get out of here first.”

“Hey,” he started, pulling back. “You don’t have to–”

“No, I know,” you interrupted, gathering your stuff. “I want to.”

He nodded and slid his hand into yours as you turned to leave. “Wanna go out the back?” He squeezed your hand gently as he asked.

You sighed and nodded. “Might as well.”

The two of you slipped out the back of the kitchen and turned to walk around the building to your cars. “Follow me home?” You asked nudging him.

Frankie smiled. “You sure?”

“Yes.” You leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek. “C’mon.”

Soon enough the two of you were pulling into your complex and walking up to your door. You felt his hand come to rest on the small of your back as you dug for your keys and you leaned back into it for a moment. The way he’d started touching you more today since you agreed to a date was sending your mind spinning. You hoped he’d still want to, after your talk.

“Come in, Frankie.” You invited him in and he followed your lead in removing his shoes before you both dropped onto the couch.

“Wait, sorry, do you want something to drink?” You started to stand again but he stopped you.

“No, I’m fine. Just had plenty of water from a very attentive bartender.” He winked, and you laughed. “C’mere.” He tugged on your hand and you slid closer until you were settled on the cushion next to him, slightly turned towards him. You let yourself relax, leaning sideways against the back of your couch. He looked so warm and broad and comfortable in your home – you wished you felt up to leaning on him instead. But you needed a little bit of space for this.

You sat for a minute, trying to figure out where to start. As if he could sense your hesitation, he reached out and took your hand in his again, and you sighed. “Ok, well. I guess I should explain.”

“Whatever you want to tell me, I’ll listen.” He started to rub the back of your hand with his thumb and you smiled.

“Ok. Here we go.” You drew in a deep breath and tried to let his presence ground you. You stared down at your joined hands as you spoke. “I was dating Chris for almost a year. It went ok, I guess, for a while. But it turns out he’s a massive asshole.” Frankie squeezed your hand. “Yeah, I should have known better. I’ve known him all my life. But he was never mean like some of them.”

“Them?” Frankie asked. You could feel that he was looking at your face, but you couldn’t look away from the way his thumb was caressing your hand.

“The rich kids. The ones whose families have been here since forever, the ones with land and big houses and so on. They were always mean to anyone who wasn’t like them. And I was never like them.” With your free hand you started to idly pick at a stubborn thread that was sticking out of your couch cushion. It refused to budge and you bit your lip.

You sighed. “But he wasn’t mean, back in school. So when he asked me out I gave him a chance. We’d all been away to college and come back. I figured he’d probably grown up some. And it seemed like he had, for a while.” You shrugged. The thread started to wiggle a little and you tugged at it harder. “But he’s not different. He used to bring me to family stuff, and his parents always treated me like shit and he swore he didn’t notice. Then at the end I found out he’d been cheating on me for months, almost the whole relationship. And when I confronted him he caused a scene and flipped it around on me.”

Frankie stiffened and you closed your eyes. “Like a hundred people heard him yell that I’d been cheating on him with his friends, that they all told him it was true. I couldn’t believe it at the time — it was a side of him I’d never seen before.” You laughed to yourself, darkly. “He’s a great actor. And then on my way out of the house his mom accused me of stealing some jewelry — the earrings I was wearing. Which he had given me a gift.” You opened your eyes, finally, and saw that you’d tugged so hard the thread was pulling away from the fabric of the couch, but it looked like it might create a run in the fabric. You knew you should stop tugging on it, but you couldn’t. “But it was enough. Now the rich people in town who all go to the same country club treat me like shit and whisper behind my back. Chris started dating some new girl a few months ago but she’s rich, too.”

Suddenly Frankie’s free hand smoothed over yours, and he gently pulled yours away from where you’d been about to create a hole in the fabric of your couch cushion. He tugged both of your hands into his lap. “What’s up with the guys who come to the bar, then?”

You groaned and finally looked up to meet his eyes. “I have no idea. I can’t figure out if they know he was lying and just decided to protect him, or if they believe him and decided to make my life miserable. Maybe they just hate me for some reason. Whatever it is, I just try to ignore it.”

Frankie frowned, gently, and squeezed both of your hands. “You deserve better.”

You smiled at him. “Thank you. I know.”

He nodded and finally smiled. “Good.” He looked at you for a moment, studying your face. “Thank you for telling me.”

You nodded, not sure what to say. But Frankie continued, “I promise not to lose it on those guys.”

“They’d deserve it,” you laughed as you agreed. “But they’re not worth the trouble.”

Frankie looked thoughtful as he lifted both of your hands to press soft kisses along your knuckles. “Well, hermosa, I’m glad you agreed to go out with me.”

You perked up and tried not to look anxious. “You still want to go out? Are you sure?”

He shot you a look and you laughed a little. “Of course I do, baby.” He leaned a little bit closer and continued, voice low. “I mean it, you deserve better. And I want to give it to you, if you’ll let me. I want to give you everything.”

Your breath caught in your throat. All you could do was nod. He grinned. “Good.”

…

The next night, you were anxious.

Frankie said he’d pick you up at 6pm, so at 5:55pm you were standing nervously behind the front door of your apartment, getting a text pep talk from Laura.

He seems like a good guy. But if he says or does anything weird just text me. I’ll come get you.

You smiled. This was your first date, the first time you’d really dressed up, in six months, and you were nervous. But Laura was right – Frankie seemed like a good guy. You rocked back on your heels as you waited by your door. Maybe this would work out, after all.

Just then, someone knocked, and your smile grew as you flung the door open.

Frankie looked nervous on the other side of it and your breath caught in your throat as you took him in. He had on dark jeans, a button up shirt, and his hair was styled without a hat.

“Frankie, you look–”

“Hermosa, te–”

You both laughed when you talked over each other. Frankie stepped forward to tangle your fingers together.

“This is gorgeous on you, baby.” With his free hand he ran his fingertips down your side and you shivered.

“You’re looking pretty handsome yourself, Frankie.” He blushed in such an adorable way that you wanted to kiss him before you even got out of your apartment. You cleared your throat. “Shall we?”

Frankie nodded and stepped backwards to lead you out of your apartment. He kept his fingers laced with yours as you locked the door and made your way to his car.

“So where are we going?” You asked once you were settled in the passenger seat. Frankie had wanted it to be a surprise, and you wondered what he picked.

“Well, hermosa, I thought you might enjoy getting out of town for a bit.” You looked at him, surprised. He shrugged. “I heard at work that there’s a restaurant in the next town over that’s pretty amazing, thought we could try it. Got a reservation and everything.”

You smiled and reached out to take his hand again. “Sounds perfect, Frankie.”

On the way to the restaurant he updated you on his coworkers’ shenanigans – he usually visited the bar at least weekly and gave you the update then, and you felt a little thrill at the idea that you and Frankie were spending time together outside of where you worked. He wanted to spend time with you. He knew, and it still felt as easy and warm as it ever did with him. You sank into it with a smile.

“I’m really glad you asked me out, Frankie,” you told him in a lull in the conversation. You watched as he blushed again and grinned.

“Me too, baby.” He tugged your hand up to press a kiss to your knuckles, the same way he had the night before. You bit your lip. His lips were so soft and you wondered what they might feel like somewhere else. It sent your head spinning and you took a deep breath. You knew this was only the beginning of the night.

When you arrived, Frankie met you by the passenger door of his truck. He slid his hand around your waist until it came to rest on the small of your back, walking next to you into the restaurant.

“Two for Morales,” he told the host, stepping away from you briefly. You took the opportunity to study the restaurant, since you’d never been. It was all deep, rich tones of green and brown, with dark wood floors and low lighting that flickered like candlelight. The tables were far enough apart to feel cozy and romantic and you smiled a little bit to yourself as you thought about Frankie seeking out a place like this for your date.

The host gestured for you to follow and you started to weave through the restaurant towards a small round booth in the back corner. As you did, though, you heard a voice you recognized.

“What the devil is she doing here?” She wasn’t shouting, but then, she never had to to be heard.

You tried to glance discreetly to your right and felt the blood drain out of your face. Chris’ new girlfriend and a bunch of their friends were seated at a long table near the front windows. You didn’t see Chris himself, thank God, but this wasn’t much better.

Your foot came down funny on your next step. You felt yourself start to stumble and it kicked off a spiral of anxiety inside of you – you were going to hit the ground in the middle of this fancy restaurant, and they would see it, and –

But you barely wobbled before Frankie’s arm slipped around your waist again and supported you, keeping you upright. Somehow you both continued forward as if nothing had happened.

You could hear them whispering behind you as you moved farther into the restaurant and you struggled to take a deep breath. Frankie tightened his arm around you and leaned in. You could feel his lips brush against your ear as he whispered, “fuck ‘em. They don’t deserve even a glance from you, querida.”

He guided you into your both and slid in next to you, and you realized you couldn’t see them from here. Frankie could, but he was only looking at you. You looked back and you felt the tension in your shoulders start to slip away.

You knew what they thought. You knew what they were probably saying, what Chris had told them about you after you broke up. But somehow, for once, it really didn’t matter. They might have been looking at you, but suddenly you couldn’t feel their stares. You had Frankie’s eyes on you, only for you, and that was worth more than anything else. Your spine straightened and you leaned forward to tangle your fingers with his on the table.

“You’re right, Frankie.” You smiled. “There’s only one person I want to look at in here, anyway.”

He grinned and ducked his head. “I know you’ve caught me looking at you at the bar, hermosa.”

You bit your lip. “Maybe. But only ‘cause I was looking back.”

Frankie laughed and lifted your hands to press another kiss to the back of yours. “Well, good. Having your eyes on me is all I’ve wanted.”

You felt your own cheeks heat as his words. You’d been suffering under the unwavering attention of half the town for months, slowly shrinking into yourself even as you tried not to let them get to you. But somehow the attention of this man was doing the exact opposite. You felt like you were glowing under his gaze, like you were emerging out of a long darkness into the sunlight at last.

The rest of dinner felt the same. You lost yourself in the low lights, the warm room, the soft touches, the rumbling sound of Frankie’s voice as he flirted and laughed and whispered in your ear. You felt like you were in your own world with him in the booth as the sounds of the restaurant swirled around you but never quite reached you. The flicker of the soft light across his face captured your eyes and he smiled whenever he caught you looking at his mouth.

By the time you fought briefly over the check (Frankie won, but only because you secured a promise that you would pay for the next one) you felt like you were floating. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt so wanted. You wanted to sink into Frankie and never come out.

He stood first and offered his hand as you stood from the table. You smiled up at him and took it. As he slipped his hand around your waist again you finally glanced back towards the front of the restaurant. You realized you’d completely forgotten they were there, but you remembered suddenly when you saw them again. They hadn’t left.

But you felt different than you had before. Frankie’s arm pulled you in and he started to walk towards the door. You looked at him and smiled, and felt yourself sink back into the connection the two of you had started to build over dinner.

They might as well look, you thought as you walked past their table. You looked at Frankie again. I’d look at us, too.

You floated out the door and through the parking lot towards his car. You reached for the door handle but he stopped you, turning you around and crowding you back against the passenger door.

Frankie’s eyes were dark and intent and you felt a shiver climb up your spine.

“Can I kiss you, hermosa?” He whispered into the air between you and you could have sworn you saw his words in the reflections of the lights and the stars above your head.

“Yes, Frankie,” you breathed. “Please–”

He leaned in and finally pressed his lips to yours, and you heard yourself moan into the kiss. His lips were soft as they pressed against yours, sending every thought and worry flying out of your head. You opened for him and he took the invitation, running his tongue lightly over your bottom lip. You gasped as he deepened the kiss.

After a few moments he broke away to press a line of kisses down your jaw and neck until his face was buried in your shoulder. “Fuck, hermosa,” he was breathing hard and you realized suddenly that you were, too. “You feel so good in my arms.” He kissed you again, on the spot where your neck sloped into your shoulder, and you shivered. “You looked so hot walking past those assholes without so much as sparing them a glance, you know that?”

You grinned up at the sky and tightened your hold around his neck. “I was just looking at you, Frankie.” You weren’t nervous anymore. You knew what you wanted. “Come home with me?”

He whipped his head up to stare at you. “Are you sure? I don’t– we don’t have to rush anything, baby.”

You nodded, warmed by his concern. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” You watched the grin take over his face, slow and sinful.

“Me too, baby. I’d like nothing more than to go home with you,” he agreed, before kissing you again.

“Then take me home, Frankie,” you mumbled against his mouth. He groaned and pulled away to do just that.

Your ride home was full of the best kind of tension. Frankie’s hand came to rest on your thigh and you resisted the urge to scoot it higher up your leg, holding it there under yours. You could feel the tension in his muscles as he held himself still.

By the time you reached your apartment you could have sworn you were both vibrating with the need to touch.

As you unlocked your apartment door, Frankie stepped up behind you, just like he had the night before. This time he closed the distance and crowded up against your back, snaking his arms around your waist. You leaned back into him, distracted, until he lifted one hand to guide yours with the key towards the door.

You felt him huff a laugh against your neck. “Let’s get inside, querida. We’ve got things to do.”

You laughed, charmed, as you finally opened your door. “Is that so?” You turned to look at him and his expression made something in your chest clench.

“It is,” he agreed, stepping towards you and closing the door behind him. He turned the lock and stepped forward again to pull you into his arms. “Hi, baby,” he whispered against your mouth, and you smiled as he kissed you.

Frankie backed you into the wall by your door and you let your keys drop from your hands as you raised them to bury your fingers in his hair. His hands framed your face, flat on the wall on either side of your head as he leaned in. The kiss suddenly went from soft to searing as his body pressed yours into the wall. You could feel him everywhere, surrounding you, all down your front. You became suddenly aware of the hard length of his cock pressing against your hip and you gasped.

He kissed you again but then moved away to scrape his teeth lightly down your neck. He started worrying a mark on your neck under your ear, and you sighed.

“Frankie,” you breathed, tugging at his hair to bring his mouth back to yours.

“Hmm?” He hummed into your mouth.

You reached back and tugged at one of his arms. “Touch me, Frankie.”

He was so close to you you could feel him shudder in response. “Is that what you want, bebita?” You nodded and felt him smile against your cheek. He moved his right hand from the wall to your side, squeezing your hip. “Where do you want me to touch you? Here?” He teased his fingertips down your hip. You shook your head.

“No? Here, then?” He leaned his weight on his left hand, using his right to trace idle designs up your torso until his fingertips came to rest just under your breast. Your breath hitched.

“Hmm, no, I don’t think so. I think you want something else.” Frankie slipped his hand back down your chest until his fingertips brushed over your core through your clothes. He turned his hand and cupped you gently. With his lips pressed to your ear, he whispered, “here?”

You gasped and nodded. “Yes, Frankie, yes—”

“Shhh,” he pressed kisses to your cheek and the corner of your lips. He gripped you firmly with his hand and you squirmed. “I told you, baby. I want to give you everything.”

You closed your eyes against the feelings he was drawing out of you, overwhelmed at his words.

He kissed you again, quickly, but pressed his forehead to yours right after, meeting your eyes.

“Can I put my mouth on you, bebita?” His voice was deep and warm and it melted down your spine.

Your hands flew up to grasp at his shirt. “Frankie, you–”

“I love it,” he murmured, looking right into your eyes. “I’ve been thinking about it. Will you let me?”

You started to smile. “Let you? Frankie, please.”

He grinned and started tugging at your clothes gently. “C’mon, bebita. Quiero verte.” (I want to see you)

You soon found yourself leaning back against the wall of your hallway, completely bare from the waist down. Frankie dropped to his knees before you, mouth open, eyes wide.

“Fuck,” he whispered, crawling forward. “You are so fucking beautiful.” You felt the heat rise in your cheeks at his words and resisted the urge to wrap your arms around yourself.

Frankie settled between your knees and smiled up at you. He winked. “Open up, bebita.” He lifted your left leg over his shoulder and you steadied yourself against the wall. “I won’t let you fall.” Frankie moved closer until he was framing you in place with his shoulders. He sucked in a sharp breath. You bit your lip.

“Qué cosita más linda,” (what a pretty little thing) he murmured, leaning forwards. He placed his left forearm over your hips like a bar and pressed a gentle kiss right above your clit. You sighed and slid your hands into his hair.

“That’s right, bebita.” His lips moved against you when he spoke and you shivered. “Relax. Let me take care of you.”

You felt his fingers brush along your slit and then press you open. HIs tongue followed right behind as he teased you, licking from your entrance to your clit. You felt boneless, suddenly worried your leg wouldn’t hold you up. But he was pressing you firmly into the wall with his shoulders and his arm. You could see his muscles working in his shoulders and back and it made your head swim.

He flattened his tongue and licked again and you squirmed. He teased the tip of his tongue around your clit and your hips thrust forward before you could stop them.

“Hey,” Frankie said your name and you blinked and looked down at him. You could see his eyes and the bridge of his nose and you felt your heart rate pick up at the sight of him between your knees like this. “That’s good, baby. Ride my face.”

“Frankie–” you started, breathless.

He moved his arm higher so that your hips could move more easily and leaned forward to slip his tongue through your folds again. You thrust your hips forward and he made an encouraging noise.

You closed your eyes and let your head fall back against the wall. Frankie teased around your entrance with his fingertips as his tongue worked a slow rhythm on your clit, and on your next thrust forward his finger slipped inside. You gasped and you felt him smile against you. You clutched at his hair, suddenly much overwhelmed.

“Yes, Frankie–” you moaned, and he pressed a second finger inside, twisting both in a way that made you chase them with your hips when he pulled them back. His tongue was moving mercilessly over your clit and you felt it, starting to build at the base of your spine. With every thrust of your hips and curl of his fingers and slide of his tongue he was working you closer and closer, relentlessly driving you upwards towards your peak. You couldn’t catch your breath, you could only do as he asked and clutch at his hair as you ground your hips forward to ride his face.

You chased the feeling climbing up your spine and he urged you on with his fingers and his mouth. On your next thrust, Frankie closed his lips around your clit and sucked, gently, as his fingers thrust forward again, and you were there.

You cried out as you curled over him, pressing his head into you with your grip in his hair, holding him there as you fell over the edge. His left arm curled around your back and urged you forward, holding you to him as he opened his mouth wide against your pussy. You quivered around his fingers, locked together as he worked you through it with his tongue.

“Fuck,” you choked out as you felt your leg start to give. Frankie caught you by the waist, slipping your leg off of his shoulder and easing you to the floor in front of him. Your eyes met, on the same level again, and your eyebrows raised as you took him in. His face was red and wet and his lips were puffy. His expression was both delighted and wrecked. He was grinning.

“You taste so fucking good, baby.” You gasped as he leaned in and pressed his wet mouth to your neck. He left a trail of moisture behind as he kissed a path up behind your ear. “Better than I ever imagined. I could spend all night between your legs and never get tired.”

You laughed, slipping your arms around his neck as he leaned over you. “Never?” you teased, and he nodded.

“Can I do that again?” He pulled back and looked down at your pussy and your legs twitched.

Again? You shook your head. “You can do that anytime, Frankie. But right now I want your cock inside me.”

His eyes darted back to meet yours and his grin turned into a smirk. “Oh yeah?” He leaned in to kiss you and you smiled.

“Yeah, Frankie. Take me to bed.”

He stood and put out his hands to guide you to your feet. “Show me the way, querida.”

He followed closely behind you as you walked to your bedroom, spinning you around the moment you crossed the threshold. He pulled you into another kiss as he walked you carefully backwards towards your bed.

You ran your hands down his sides and realized he was still wearing all of his clothes. “Take these off, Frankie,” you murmured as you undid the button on his pants. He unbuttoned his shirt as you slid his pants down over his hips, and soon he was standing in front of you completely bare. Your eyes widened as you took him in. He was all golden skin and soft muscles – the kind where you knew he was strong without so much definition, with a soft midsection that you wanted to rest your head against like a pillow. You stepped forward and pressed your body against his and found he felt as soft and warm as he looked.

As your naked body came into contact with his, his breath caught and you felt it. “Fuck, hermosa,” he murmured as his hands slid over your back. “You feel so fucking amazing.”

You wrapped your arms around his waist and pressed kissed down the line of his collarbone. “So do you, Frankie.”

As he pulled you in, you felt his cock standing proudly against his stomach. It was hard between your bodies and you squirmed, tilting your hips forward in a vain attempt to feel it against you.

He pressed his smile to your hairline. “‘S that what you want, bebita?”

You nodded, and he walked you back two steps towards the bed without releasing you from his embrace. His cock shifted between you and you sighed.

“Lie down,” he murmured, guiding you onto the bed. You scooted back and he followed, crawling over you until he was perched above you on his hands and knees. “You look good under me, baby.”

“You look good over me, Frankie.” You smiled and reached up to tug him down for a kiss.

He lowered his body to yours slowly and you gasped as you felt his cock come to rest against your hip. You moved your hips, but he continued forward and to the side, coming to rest against you on the bed. “Not yet, bebita. Need to get you ready first.” You frowned and he smiled at you. “Don’t want to hurt you.”

He trailed his fingertips down your chest and stomach until he was teasing at your slit again.

“I’m ready, Frankie,” you insisted, reaching down to grip his cock in one hand. He was big. “You just fingered me by my front door, remember?” You raised your eyebrows at him and pumped his cock in your hand. His hips stuttered forward and you grinned.

He sighed and shook his head at you. “Let me just make sure.” He leaned down to kiss you as his fingers slipped inside you again, two this time, and you opened your legs to give him more room.

“Hmm,” he hummed as he twisted his fingers inside of you. “You were right, bebita. Ya estás mojada.” (you’re already wet) He kissed you as he slipped another finger inside and you arched your back at the sensation.

“Frankie–” you started, but he interrupted you with another kiss. You could feel how wet you were around his fingers and you wanted more.

“¿Estás lista, bebita?” (are you ready, baby?)

You nodded and reached towards your nightstand and the condoms you knew were inside the drawer. You tried not to let out the whine you could feel at the back of your throat when he pulled his fingers from you gently. He reached over you and grabbed a condom, making quick work of slipping it on.

“C’mere,” he murmured, lifting your leg until it was wrapped around his waist. He bent your other knee and extended it to the side on the bed. You realized you were completely open to him, pussy on display. “Just like that. Fuck, you look gorgeous like this.”

You felt your cheeks heat and looked down to see what he was looking at. Your pussy was open, spread wide, and glistening with your arousal. His cock was mere inches away as he held his hips above yours. You swallowed hard.

“Hey, look at me.”

You looked up at his face and found him smiling softly at you. He tilted his hips forward and you felt the head of his cock nudge against your clit. You sucked in a sharp breath.

He nodded. “That feels so fucking good, baby.” You blinked, trying not to close your eyes. You wanted to see everything.

He shifted his hips until the head of his cock notched against your entrance, and you both gasped. “Ay, mira,” (look) he demanded, and you looked down to watch as the head of his cock pressed inside of you. Your eyes fluttered closed, you couldn’t help it, and you moaned.

“That’s right.” He pressed inside and you felt every inch of his cock as you stretched around him. “You’re taking me so fucking well. You feel so amazing.” He bottomed out and groaned. “Fuck.”

You realized you’d tangled your fingers in his hair, and you tried to tug him down into a kiss. He resisted long enough to pull back out, and the glide of him inside you was devastating.

On the next thrust, he leaned down to capture your mouth with his.

He kissed you as he established a slow, overwhelming rhythm that stole your breath away. You couldn’t feel anything but Frankie, inside you and all around you. Your head spun as you tried to keep up with the movements of his hips and the slide of his mouth against yours.

After a few moments he twisted, reaching around to tuck your leg tighter around his waist. When he did his cock slid in at a new angle that was just right and you gasped.

“¿Así?” (like that?) he breathed. “Right there?”

You nodded, and held him tight against you. “Yes, Frankie,” you sighed. He thrust forward again and your next breath felt like a sob. You could feel it building inside you again, pooling at the base of your spine and tingling down your arms and legs.

“C’mon, baby,” he murmured into your ear. “Let me see you come again. So fucking beautiful when you come.” He pressed a kiss to your neck and you held his head there with your grip in his hair. He reached down to press his thumb to your clit and you gasped. “Dámelo.” (give it to me)

On his next thrust, you did. You felt your pussy tighten around him as you sobbed out his name. You felt like the bed was spinning away beneath you while you were struck, unable to do anything but arch your back and scream Frankie’s name.

He suddenly picked up the pace, and you tugged on his hair to lift his head. You wanted to see his face when he came.

It was beautiful.

His eyes locked on yours as his mouth hung open, and you watched as his orgasm took him. After only a moment he slumped forward, slightly crushing you, and started pressing kisses anywhere he could reach. You giggled at the brush of his mustache against your skin..

“Fuck, hermosa,” he murmured against your skin. “Only our first time, and it was that fucking amazing?” He shook his head and glanced up at you, eyes playful. “Don’t know how we’ll survive getting any better at this.”

You laughed and kissed the corner of his smirk. He turned his head to kiss you back, gently, and you sighed into it.

“Was it as good as you hoped?” You couldn’t help but feel nervous. It had been so long since you’d had this kind of intimacy with someone, and the last one had ended so badly. But Frankie had been carefully taking care of all of your worries and insecurities one-by-one since you’d met, and this time was no different.

“Good?!” Frankie sounded incredulous as he cupped your cheek in his hand. “Baby, it was better. Better than I could have imagined.” He kissed you again, and you squirmed when you felt his soft cock shift, still inside you.

You smiled. “Alright, Frankie, let’s get cleaned up.” He nodded and pulled carefully out of you before heading to the bathroom. He looked back over his shoulder at you and you took a moment to admire his ass and the curve of his spine. “Can I stay? I don’t want to wear out my welcome, but–”

“Of course.” You cut him off. “I want you here.” He grinned and ducked his head.

After a few moments of cleaning up, you found yourself back in bed with Frankie. He had on only his briefs, and you tugged on an old, oversized t-shirt and nothing else. Frankie crowded up behind you in the bed.

“Thank you for going out with me tonight, baby.” He murmured into your neck as he wrapped his arm around your waist, spooning you.

You smiled. “Want to go out again tomorrow?”

You felt him grin against your neck. “Yes, how about tomorrow morning for brunch and then dinner and then, oh, every day this week. As a start.”

You laughed as he tugged you closer. “Ok, Frankie.”

He pressed a gentle kiss to the back of your neck. “I mean it, baby. This is just the start.”

As you closed your eyes, half asleep, you thought to yourself that you’d never bother paying attention to them again.

Not when you had Frankie all to yourself.

...

a/n: let me know what you think? 🧡

tag list and some Frankie fans who I think might be interested: @jeewrites @islacharlotte @iknowisoundcrazy @beardedjoel @undercoverpena @goodwithcheese

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mxndoscyarika · 28 days

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THE EQUALIZER 2 (2018) THE MENTALIST (2008-2015) 6.16 "Violets" NARCOS (2015-2017) 2.03 "Our Man in Madrid"

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mxndoscyarika · 30 days

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Better Late Than Never {Marcus Pike x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 18.9k

Warnings: Young musician Marcus, oral sex (male and female receiving), vaginal sex, confessions, murders, attempted murder, angst, vaginal fingering, multiple orgasms, face fucking, mentions of pregnancy/family planning, hostage situation, threats of death, shoots, death

Comments: College is amazing, fun and the best boyfriend, Marcus Pike. You dream of a life together with him. Until you witness a horrible crime and are ripped from the life you know. Years later, a theft at your art gallery brings one Marcus Pike back into your life, revealing secrets and the fact that you never stopped loving him.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Marcus Pike MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“And now, Sex Riot!”

You start screaming as soon as they announce the band, always willing to cheer your college boyfriend and his band on, especially since this is the biggest gig they’ve ever played. “Yay baby! Whoooooo!” You clap and then put your fingers in your mouth to whistle from your spot at the bar as Marcus, Aaron, Dominic and Anthony immediately start playing the first song. Marcus, sweet and kind, looks like every girl's bad boy dream since you added a little bit of your eyeliner and gelled up his hair. Paired with his lucky t-shirt with the pot smoking ‘shroom, ripped jeans and boots, he looks sexy and you can’t wait to take him back to your apartment after it’s over.

Marcus finds you in the crowd and grins, winking at you as he plays a few chords to warm up his bass guitar and to check he’s in tune. He looks at the lead singer, Aaron, who nods and Marcus waits for the count in from Dom. He starts to play the song, the crowd starting to jam and he feels the thrill of the performance start to hit him. You are there, grinning up at him and he loves how much you support him for every gig.

You beam as they finish the first song. Clapping and cheering as Aaron greets the crowd. You know that when he gets down, he’s going to want a beer and a kiss and you will give them to him. You are completely in love with him and tonight you are going to tell him.

Marcus is sweating when the set ends, blood racing with exhilaration and he grins as he finds You applauding him, his favorite groupie, and he grins when you blow him a kiss. Fuck, he loves you. He’s gonna tell you soon. Never one to hide his emotions, he’s gonna need to blurt out his feelings soon. He takes his final bow with the band and he finds you backstage after you rush back there, his hands finding your waist and he leans in to press his lips to yours.

Kissing Marcus Pike is like breathing, natural and all consuming. You reach up and tangle your fingers into his sweaty, longish curls. Moaning into his mouth, you don’t even hesitate to press yourself against him eagerly. Only breaking away to breathe and then you nudge your nose against his and grin. “You were amazing, baby.” You gush, giggling when you kiss him again.

Marcus slides his hands down to squeeze your ass. “You enjoyed the show?” He asks and you nod, kissing his jaw as you lean against him. “Fuck, I was nervous to sing backup vocals on the new song. Was it good?” He asks, biting his lip when he pulls back to look at you.

“It was so good, baby. I love your voice.” You nod. “I love when you sing to me.” Grinning, you lift a brow. “Sing in the shower.” You tease, knowing he’s only singing in the shower when you aren’t in it with him. Normally if you come over to his place, you might catch it if he was still in the shower.

Marcus blushes, unaware that you’d heard him in the shower. It makes him wonder if you heard what else he does when you aren’t in the mood for him. “Fuck, you wanna get out of here? I’m not really in the mood for drinks. I want to go back to mine and shower…with you.” He adds, biting his lip.

“Your place?” You nod and kiss him one more time before you turn to grab your purse off the bar. You have already paid for your drink so you are ready to go. Even if the rest of the band stays and parties, it just means that you and Marcus will have the apartment to yourselves since he rooms with his band mates. “I think I want to have the bassist from my favorite band in the shower with me.” You send him a hot look. “So I can show him how big of a fan I am.”

Marcus nods, knowing the rest of the band will be okay with packing up the equipment since he’s stayed late every gig this year. He takes your hand, knowing the guys will bring his bass back, and he tells Aaron that he’s taking you home. “Have fun.” Aaron smirks, knowing exactly why you’re leaving so soon but Marcus doesn’t give him a second thought as he escorts you out to his car. Before he opens the door, he grabs you to push you against the passenger side, his lips finding yours under the street light.

In typical collegiate horny fashion, you have no problem making out with your boyfriend of nearly eight months right there. Feeling him start to harden against your hip only has you even more feral for him. One hand in the pocket of his ripped jeans, the other pushes between you so you can squeeze his thick cock, making him groan into your mouth. “Take me home, Marcus.” You demand. “I want to suck your cock and I can’t do that here.”

Marcus groans, hating to pull away from you but your promise to suck him off is never one he would deny you so he pecks your lips and pulls away from you. Shifting to open the door for you, helping you in before he jogs around the car to get into the driver’s seat. “God.” He breathes out as he starts to drive, trying to focus on the road and not the way you’re looking at him as he drives to his place.

You smirk and slide your hand down to his belt buckle. “Keep your eyes on the road, Pike.” You tease playfully as you unbuckle it. “I can’t wait until we get back to your place to feel you.” You’ve never given road head before, but for Marcus, you would do anything.

“Fuckkkk.” Marcus groans, fingers tightening on the steering wheel as you take his cock out of his pants. “Fuck baby. You’re too good to me.” He groans and you lean down to take him into your mouth. The car swerves slightly and he exhales to control himself and the car.

He’s slightly salty with sweat but like always, he tastes amazing. Musky and heady as you roll your tongue over the tip and pull back slightly before taking him deeper into your mouth. Groaning at his pulsing twitch of excitement. He loves when you suck his cock and you know that the added thrill of driving and being slightly exposed is doing something for you so it must be doing something for him. He had always kind of giggled when you watched movies where the guy gets road head, so you are happy you decided you couldn’t wait.

Marcus hisses when you suck him a little harder, taking him deeper and he swears he nearly cums but he reaches down to caress your cheek, “fuck baby. So good to me.” He coos, struggling to concentrate when you’re hollowing your cheeks.

You hum, happy he’s enjoying it. You know when you get back to his place, he will drag you in the shower and by the time you’re clean, he’ll be ready to go again. Your lips touch the fabric of his jeans and you swallow around his thick length.

Marcus can barely keep his eyes open but he forces himself, moaning again when you swallow around him and he reaches down to pat your cheek. “I’m gonna cum.” He warns you, “baby. I’m gonna cum.”

You smirk slightly, almost pulling off of him to remind him that’s the point of sucking his cock. Instead you double down on your effort, wanting him to cum down your throat. Moaning around him as the jerks and pulses of his cock tell you he’s about to bust.

Marcus pants, fucking glad he’s stopping at a traffic light. “Fuck fuck Fuck.” He hisses as he starts to cum, unable to control himself anymore as he starts to cum down your throat.

You swallow as much as you can, some of it spilling out the side of your mouth but you don’t stop swallowing. Not until every drop has been pumped into your mouth and that little sigh he always gives when he’s done comes out of his mouth. Pulling off of him lightly, you lick your lips and grin as you sit up. “How was that for your applause?”

“Fuck baby. I- just wait till we get back to mine.” He promises breathlessly. “I’m gonna - fuck. The things I’m gonna do to you.” He promises, pushing down on the pedal a little too hard when the light turns green. You tuck him away into his pants and he pulls you up to kiss your cheek, “God baby. You’re incredible.” He murmurs, focusing back on the road so he can rush back to his apartment.

You giggle quietly as Marcus races back to his apartment building, nearly squealing his tires in an effort to get there as quickly as possible. Once parked, you jump out of the car and run towards the building. “You have to catch me,” you tease over your shoulder.

Marcus chuckles, shaking his head and he scrambles to lock his car. He rushes after you, running up the stairs and he catches up to you when you are at his front door. “Gotcha.” He growls playfully, spinning you so he can push you against the door, kissing you with a smile, his hands reaching for your hands to lift your arms above your head, restraining your wrists, his hand slides back down to squeeze your tit, his tongue sliding into your mouth.

You moan into him, enjoying the taste and feeling of him pressing against you. “Marcus.” You pant when he slides his tongue out enough to let you talk. “Shower and then I want to go to bed.” You beg, knowing that you want him inside you, touching you when you tell him how you feel.

He pulls away reluctantly, wanting to touch you but he knows he has to open his door. He grabs his keys, fumbling to open the door with your lips on his neck but he manages, swallowing harshly and nearly stumbling when it swings open. “Get naked. Now.” He demands, needing you, to see all of you.

You giggle at his commanding, desperate tone. Knowing that he is close to losing control and with it, leaving some of the sweetness behind. The best thing about Marcus is that he is so kind in and out of bed, but you like when he is a little rough with you. “Yes sir.” You tease, pouting seductively as you toss your purse down and reach to unzip your dress.

Marcus groans, his eyes hungrily eating you up and he bites his lip when you toss your bra aside, stepping out of your panties. “Fuck, you’re so gorgeous.” He murmurs, kicking off his boots and he pulls his shirt over his head, pushing his jeans down. His cock is still flaccid but his eyes are drinking you in as he pushes his boxers down. “Come on baby.” He murmurs, reaching for you and he takes your hand to escort you to the bathroom. He grabs his body wash from the shelf and turns on the water.

Marcus has a runners ‘or a swimmer’s body. Long, lean lines and limbs. Still powerful, and you take a moment to appreciate that as you watch him. You know you will have to gather your clothes later, but right now you press yourself up against him when you step into the shower together and wrap your arms around his neck. “I missed you today, baby.” He had a test and then one quick half shift at his job before his gig. His parents were funding his college, which was fantastic, but Marcus was responsible enough to still have a job.

“I missed you too.” Marcus murmurs, his hands caressing your back. “Always miss you.” He promises, leaning back so he can look into your eyes. “You enjoyed the show?” He asks, always anxious that he wasn’t good enough. He plays guitar mainly but when Aaron needed a bass player, he stepped up to learn it.

“You were great.” You promise him, sliding your fingers through his hair and tilting his head back to wet it under the spray so you can wash it for him. “Every note was perfect and you looked so sexy up there.” You coo. “All I could think of was how that is my man and I get to go home with him.”

Marcus smirks, eyes closed as you grab the shampoo and his hands squeeze your ass cheeks as you lather up his locks. “Only you. No one else.” He vows, knowing his band mates take home random women but you’re the one for him. He’s never been the Casanova type, always liking to be with one woman, to have a relationship and a deeper connection than a one night stand. You rinse his hair and he leans down to kiss you again, unable to keep away from you.

"Mmmmmm." You smile against his lips and open for him, moaning softly when his tongue slides against yours and he shuffles to press you back against the shower wall. You never seem to get enough of him and you don't think. you ever will. You love him. You have decided that you want to be with him forever and you pull back to smile at him softly. "Only you." You promise back.

Marcus kisses you softly, shifting to kneel down in the shower and he grabs your leg, kissing your knee before he lifts it onto his shoulder. His eyes on you as he leans forward to nudge your mound, his tongue coming out to slide through your folds. He loves how you taste and he wants you to cum on his tongue before he fucks you in his bed.

“Marcus!” You cry out, slapping your hand against the wall and your eyes roll back in your head. Marcus’s tongue is always eager, always seemingly perfect as it carves a path through your folds and flicks over your clit. He sucks it into his mouth and hums, which always makes you moan softly.

His hands slide up to squeeze your tits, the water flowing over his back and he loves the way you moan his name. He could listen to that for the rest of his life. His hands caress and squeeze and pinch while his tongue dips back down to push inside of you with a groan.

Tilting your head up, you pant his name again, your thigh shaking and barely supporting you without his help to keep you pinned against the wall. “Oh fuck, Marcus.” You chant quietly. “Baby, you’re so good. Fuck, you’re so good.”

Marcus desperately needs you to cum, his tongue diving deep as his nose presses against your clit. His hands slide down to squeeze your ass, tilting your hips so his tongue can push deeper inside of you.

“Oh shit!” Your body bucks and you cry out wordlessly when your orgasm hits you. Pleasure and heat washing over you in successive waves as he keeps pressing deeper. Tongue curling and prodding inside you and his nose is the perfect pressure against your clit.

He works you through it, his tongue lapping up every drop of your essence and he groans, pulling back to look up at you. Hair slicked back and eyes dark. He shifts to stand up after lowering your leg and he leans in to kiss you again, sliding his tongue into your mouth.

When he pulls back, you giggle quietly. “So glad I have a boyfriend who loves to eat pussy.”

You hum, reaching for the body wash and his shower mitts. Lathering them up quickly, you start to wash his body, eager to get him into bed.

Marcus lets you wash him then he returns the favor, his hands everywhere as he washes you and he groans when your fingers wrap around his hard cock. “So impatient for me.” He jokes softly, rinsing you off. “You wanna come to my bed?” He asks, kissing along your neck.

“Fuck yes.” You pant, stroking his cock with the quick, harsh motion that he enjoys. “I need you inside me, baby. Right now.” You beg.

Marcus reaches behind you to turn off the water, he grabs the towel and wraps it around you, grabbing another one for himself to dry off and then he’s dragging you into his bedroom. He pushes you onto the bed, his body covering yours as he kneels between your thighs, “wanna cum inside of you.” He murmurs, wanting to fill you up. He usually pulls out to be safe despite your birth control but tonight he wants to feel your walls pulsing around him when he cums.

You moan softly, loving the idea. Nodding, you reach up to caress his chest. “I want that baby, I’m safe.” You promise him, also keeping track of your cycle as well as your birth control. “Fill me up, I want to feel it.” You coo, enjoying the low moan as he pushes his cock through your folds and starts to break into you as he rocks his hips forward to kiss you.

Marcus groans into your mouth as you stretch to take him. You’re so fucking perfect. So fucking wet and tight. He closes his eyes as he pushes until he’s inside of you fully. “Fuck, baby girl. I - I love how you feel around me.” He murmurs, kissing along your neck as he gives you a moment.

You close your eyes, a small smile on your face as your fingers tangle into his hair. “I love you.” You murmur softly, knowing that he will hear you since his ear is right next to your lips. It’s the right moment, the perfect moment to tell him how you feel. “I love you, Marcus.”

Marcus pulls back to look at you, eyes wide. “I love you too. Fuck, I love you so much baby.” He promises. His hips start to move as he works his cock in and out of you. “I love you. I love you.” He repeats over and over between kisses to your skin.

You moan quietly as the two of you take sex and turn it to love making. Soft and sweet as he rocks into you and whispers words of love and praise. It makes you feel cherished, you know that he’s not just saying that because you did. Not because he’s inside you. This man loves you and it makes happy tears fill your eyes as you hold him tight.

He moves slow, in no rush despite the frenzy earlier. He wants you to enjoy every second of this. His hand sliding up to squeeze your breast as he shifts his weight onto one elbow so he can touch you. There’s no more words, just feelings as he rocks into you, your legs lifting higher up on his hips.

Marcus can barely breathe, let alone speak. He grunts, sighs, and leans in to press his lips to yours. His tongue sliding into your mouth to languidly kiss you. He can’t believe how lucky he is that you are his and he is yours. Never did he imagine he’d find the love of his life so soon in college but he’s glad he did. He wants to keep you forever. His hand shifts from your breast and slides down between you so he can rub your clit.

“Oh God, Marcus.” You moan, rocking your hips up to meet his hand and thrusts. “So good baby, fuck, I love you so much.” You kiss and suck on his neck, leaving a mark that you are sure will be visible for days, but you have to claim him as yours. “Gonna cum baby.”

Your gasp has him pushing deeper inside of you, desperate for you to cum. He keeps the same rhythm that has you gasping and his fingers rub your clit. "Cum for me, love. Cum for me." He pleads, wanting to feel it and his own orgasm is imminent.

You keen when you start to come apart. Shaking as your cunt locks down around him on the next thrust and you soak him in waves of your fluids. Chanting his name as if it’s the only word in the world. Knowing that you want your future to be with him as he holds you close.

"Fuck. Yes baby. Oh God." Marcus pants when you clamp down on him, soaking him, and he bites his lip, thrusting a little faster as he seeks his own orgasm. He should last, make you cum again, but your confession has him on edge. He groans and buries his face in your neck, his cock buried deep as he cums, painting your walls with his seed.

“Fuck baby.” You whimper, closing your eyes in pure bliss when you feel him flood your womb. It’s crazy, stupid and not something you need, but for a brief second you wish he was getting you pregnant. That you were going to have his baby. It’s insane to think about and you quickly push it away. “I love you.” You whisper again, happy you can say it out loud now.

“I love you.” He murmurs, shifting to kiss you again while his cock pulses inside of you. He feels like he’s on fire and he can’t seem to get close enough to you. You’re everything to him and he knows he’s going to marry you one day. You are the rest of his life. He pulls out of you and shifts onto his back, bringing you into his chest. “I - I wrote a song for you.” He whispers, heart pounding still from both his orgasm and nerves.

Your head shoots up and you look at him in surprise. “You did?” Your hand that is on his chest seems to curl in, wanting to hold onto him. “What’s it about, sing it to me.” You demand, wanting to know what sort of song he would write for you.

Marcus shifts, grabbing the guitar he has propped up in the corner and he plucks the strings for a moment to make sure it’s in tune. He exhales and looks at you, “I love you baby.” He promises and starts to play, his eyes closed as he concentrates and the lyrics begin a few moments later.

Sitting up, you don’t bother to cover your breasts, knowing that it doesn’t matter when it’s the two of you. You listen, with your heart in your eyes and absorb the words that he has created for you. Falling in love with him a little more with every word.

He finishes the song, his hand pausing over the strings as he takes a moment before he looks up to see your reaction. You have tears in your eyes and he worries you didn’t enjoy it. “I- was it - do you like it?” He asks, voice wavering with his nerves.

Surging forward, the covers fall off your lap. Launching yourself at him and trapping his guitar between you so you can press your lips to his desperately. “I loved it.” You promise, giggling happily, almost drunk off the feeling of being in love with him. “I love you. Oh god, you have to make a tape of it for me, so I can always have it.”

Marcus smiles against your lips, so relieved and happy you loved it. “Of course, baby. I’ll make you a tape.” He promises, shifting back so he can set the guitar back on the stand and he reaches for you, pulling you into his arms. “I love you.” He murmurs, burying his nose in your hair to breathe you in.

Marcus curls around you, his face buried in your neck, and he closes his eyes. It doesn’t take long for him to fall asleep, loving how warm you are against him and he dreams of a life together. Of having kids with you, a home, a dog. The whole nine yards.

****

“Yeah, you know Marcus. He’s great.” You tuck your phone against your shoulder as you look through the rack of dresses. He had told you that he wanted to talk you out somewhere special this weekend and to make sure that you were dressed fancy. Well, as fancy as college kids get, but you are excited. “He probably wants to celebrate saying ‘I love you’, and that’s so fucking sweet. I’m telling you girl, I’m so fucking lucky.”

He steps into the store, glancing around at the crowd and he knows that she’s in the changing room. Her location said so. He steps through the racks, making his way into the ladies changing room and pulls out the gun with the silencer. When she steps out to look in the mirror, he wastes no time shooting her, twice in the chest, once in the head. So quick she barely even registers his presence and he grabs the sunglasses and hat from his jacket, turning it inside out to change his clothing and that’s when you step out. You see her on the floor, blood pouring from her and you look up at the man, his face visible after taking off his hoodie and you scream. He raises the gun, about to shoot you for being a witness but then he hears the commotion of people hearing your scream and he needs to get out of the store before the doors are locked. He rushes off and escapes through the crowds who are panicking when they heard your scream. He can’t risk being caught. He won’t get paid. He memorizes your face and knows he has to find you. He can’t be tied to the crime if there are no witnesses.

****

“I didn’t see where he went. No, I didn’t know him. I didn’t know her.” You tell the detectives again. “But I am telling you that it was this man.” You point to the photo you had picked out of the line up they had given you. It’s been hours, taken down to the station when the police had arrived, you had been shown into the shabby, dreary room and given a single cup of disgusting coffee. “Can I leave now? I just want to call my boyfriend and go home.”

The officers glance at each other, knowing there’s nothing more you can do since you have told them the man who did it. “Fine. You can go.” They say, “but call us if you remember anything else.” He hands you his card and you nod, making your way out of the station. Once you’re on the road, you decide to head straight over to Marcus’s place and when you’re on the back road, you wince when you see the bright lights from the car behind you.

“Go around me, asshole.” You huff under your breath and tap your brakes twice. The car gets closer and then back off, blinding you again and making you hiss. The guy is riding your ass and it’s pissing you off. “Fucking pass me!” You yell, happy when the car revs its engine and you think he’s going to pass. Until your car jolts forward and you realize the crazy bastard has hit you. “What the fuck!”

He revs his engine again, hitting your car once more and you cry out, starting to get scared. His lights are still bright in your rear view mirror and he hits you again, making you skid as you lose control of the car.

Your car spins into the guardrail and the old metal gives way, sending your car down into the embankment of the tiny creek you had been about to cross. Screaming, you see your life flash before your eyes and then nothing but blackness.

He pulls over, wanting to check that you’re dead but just as he starts to pull over, there’s a car coming towards him who pulls over to help you. He speeds off, knowing he can’t risk getting out and he is certain that you’re dead. You have to be. The stranger saw everything and manages to get the plate, writing it on their hand before they get out to see if you’re alive. Thankfully, they have a cell phone and manage to call 911 when they find you unconscious and bleeding, the airbags deployed.

****

“I don’t understand.” Marcus frowns as he looks at his phone, his call going straight to voicemail again. He’s been trying to call you all night and you aren’t answering. He’s worried, you had plans to meet up for dinner tonight and you never showed or messaged him.

“She’s gonna be okay, man. Her phone probably died. She doesn’t charge it for days.” He reminds Marcus who nods, biting his lip. “Yeah. True.” He sighs and glances out of the window, his heart pounding as he imagines all the bad things that could’ve possibly happened to you and he decides to phone the police if you aren’t here or call him within the hour.

****

The first thing you see when you blink is doctors hovering over you. Your name is called and your brow scrunches. “Wha-what happened?” You groan and immediately another face appears in front of you. The detective that you had seen just a few minutes ago at the police station. “What- you?”

The detective shakes his head, “I feared something like this would happen.” He says your name and you frown in confusion at the look on his face. “The man we are looking for is in a notorious crime circle. We worry that he will find you again and kill you because you’re the only witness to his crime. We need to put you into witness protection.”

"What? No, no, I have a date with my boyfriend." You blurt out, not even absorbing what the detective is telling you. "We just said 'I love you'. He's going to be so worried about me. Can I call Marcus? I need to call Marcus."

The detective shakes his head, “I’m sorry. No. We don’t know if they are tapping the lines. Your boyfriend might be in danger and it’s best if he doesn’t know anything about what happened. You need to move. We will arrange everything.” The detective promises, “this is for your safety. Your life is in danger. As soon as we catch him and you testify, he’s in jail. You can’t risk your life, sweetheart.”

You argue with the detective for an hour, until he shows you the pictures of the people the man after you had murdered. Gruesome photos, including a wife and daughter. That’s when you agree and reluctantly check out against medical advice and let the detective lead you away.

****

It’s been days since Marcus heard from you. He’s frantic, your parents don’t know where you are. No one seems to know and the police are dismissing him, saying you’ve likely run off. “She wouldn’t do that. She’s not like that.” He argued but they wouldn’t file a missing person report. He is exhausted, hasn’t slept, and he’s been driving around trying to find you but your apartment is how you left it and your roommate is worried too.

“Marcus, I don’t know what the hell is going on.” Tisha opens the door and lets him in. “All of her stuff is here, she’s not in class, her job hasn’t heard from her. It’s like she’s dropped off the face of the planet.” She rubs her hands over her arms. “I’m worried, especially after that murder at the outlet.”

“I don’t know. She - you know she isn’t like this. I don’t understand. I’m terrified. She’s - fuck - I don’t know what to do.” He sits down, head in his hands as he struggles to figure out what to do. He’s been driving around town for days trying to find you. He’s called everyone you know. No one has seen you. It’s like you’ve disappeared from the planet and his heart breaks when he wonders if you’ve left him, decided you didn’t love him or something changed within you and you’ve left him.

****

Fifteen Years Later:

Living under a new name, having a new life, was supposed to make your life easy. You chew your lip as you sit in your office and wait. The art business was supposed to be low key. Under the radar. You are just a small gallery, although you carried some big name pieces, you are never pictured on the website. Still living under an alias, you know your identity will hold up under light scrutiny, but it still makes you nervous. It’s been a long time, nearly a year, since your handler had called you, letting you know there still is a vague contract out on your life from the asshole you had put behind bars so long ago.

****

“Pike.” Marcus answers his phone, rubbing his forehead as he stares at the file.

“Sir, there’s been another robbery.” His junior agent tells him and he sighs, “I’ll be right there. Send me the address.” He says and hangs up,getting his keys and he’s soon in the car driving to the address he was texted.

When he arrives, the police are already there and he introduces himself to the detective. “The gallery manager is right through here.” The detective says and Marcus makes his way into the gallery. When the officer says the alias name, Marcus looks at you and his jaw drops, your real name coming out of his mouth..

Your name, your real name, hasn’t been said in so long that it takes you a moment to respond. The ghost from your past, the man you thought you would never see again and always regretted that, stands in front of you looking like he’s seen his own ghost. Maybe he has. You panic and shake your head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know that person.” You tell him, praying he doesn’t cause a scene, although you know you have to call Marshal Smith now that your identity has been blown. Your life will be completely uprooted and you had liked working in the art gallery. You tell him your cover name, the one you’ve lived with for the past fifteen years.

Marcus stares at you, knowing he’s not mistaking your face. You’re older, more refined, but he’d know those eyes anywhere. “I- no. No. It’s - it’s been fifteen years. It’s you.” He insists, shaking his head.

“I’m afraid you have the wrong person.” You tell him again, wondering how the hell sweet Marcus Pike became an FBI agent. You repeat your new name again for him with a tolerant smile. “Now, what questions do you have for me agent…Pike, was it?”

He shakes his head again, “no. No. I- fuck. It’s you. It’s gotta be you.” He chokes, getting frustrated. “I thought - I thought you left me. Fuck. I - I can’t do this.” He says to his partner and he rushes out of the gallery.

Your heart breaks, the look on his face was one of pure distress and you swallow harshly. “Let me go see if I can clear this up.” You tell the other agent and the detective. You can see they are curious and you know that it doesn’t matter now. Your life here is over. You hurry after Marcus and see him pacing outside. “Marcus!”

He turns away from you, “don’t. Don’t come near me.” He growls, angry with you. “Don’t - you left. You left me. Don’t - don’t play dumb. I’m not interested in your bullshit answers, okay? The change of name. Don’t - you left me. You left town. Disappeared. And now you want to pretend you’re not who I know you to be?”

He rails at you and you close your eyes at the anguish in his voice. The pain, the fear, the heartbreak of those early years coming back to you quickly. “I- I didn’t want to-“ you start to explain but he cuts you off.

“I don’t want to hear it! You left without the decency to break it off. I thought you were dead.” He is nearly shouting out on the street next to a drab government vehicle and you huff.

“I am in WitSec, Marcus!”

His eyes widen in shock, “what? You- when-? I- shit. When did you- how?” He stammers, trying to figure out what the hell happened and he needs answers. Now. The years of wondering what happened to you, what he did wrong, what he could’ve done differently.

Glancing around nervously, you lower your voice. “The day I disappeared, I saw something I shouldn’t have.” You explain, quickly telling him about the murder you had walked in on.

Marcus is shocked. You witnessed a murder. The murder that happened at the outlet mall. You called your friend - the last person you spoke to - to talk about going out for dinner with Marcus. It makes sense. It fits. Your eyes aren’t lying to him. “I- shit. Seriously?” He asks breathlessly and you nod. He knows how the system works, and dealt with enough witnesses to know you’ll be sent across the country. “I won’t tell anyone. No one will know that you’re here. I promise.

You don’t have to tell the Marshal dealing with your case.”

You shouldn’t, you know you shouldn’t, but you like this life here. And it’s such a relief to know that someone knows who you really are. You try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach because it’s Marcus. You’ve never stopped thinking about him. “You can’t use that name.” You caution him. “There’s still a contract out for my life.” You reveal. “It’s dormant, but only because there’s nothing for them to use to find me.”

Marcus nods, saying the fake name and it’s weird, it doesn’t feel right when he rolls it around his tongue. “I - I don't want you to have to uproot your life again. God, it’s been fifteen years. I- I never stopped wondering what happened to you.” He promises. “Do you- uh, do you want to maybe get dinner? Catch up?”

You freeze for a moment, surprised by the offer and find yourself nodding. “Sure.” You bite your lip. “But it should be at my place. Just in case.” You know that Roberta had an old photo of you and Marcus together from college and Marcus has obviously matured since then, but you can’t risk it. You glance around the street, a nervous habit you’ve picked up since being in WitSec, and then back at him. “Tonight? Or…uh, whenever you want.” You offer. “You have a life, I’m sure.”

Marcus chuckles humorlessly, “not so much. I- I was engaged and she - well, it’s a long story but she went off with her partner. She was a fed too.” He explains, biting his lip as he glances around, his dark eyes meeting yours again. “Tonight.” He nods, not wanting to miss out on catching up. He doesn’t want to waste a second in case you disappear again. “You wanna, uh, write down your address? I can bring take out.” He offers, grabbing his notepad.

“Sure.” You take the notepad from him and write down your address and hand it back to him. “Seven?” You ask and he nods. “So, I’m going to go back in there and talk to your partner. Tell him that you are upset you mistook me for someone else. Is that okay?”

Marcus nods, tucking the notepad back into his jacket and he swallows harshly, the sun hitting you and God, you haven’t changed. Not really. Still so goddamn beautiful. He clears his throat and gestures for you to go back inside. “I’ll tell him. We still need your story about the stolen painting.” He reminds you, stepping inside after you. “Sorry man-” He slaps his partner on the arm, “I thought she was some girl I knew in college. She disappeared and it was a shock. Not her. Just me being a dumb prick.” He jokes and his partner narrows his eyes but accepts the excuse. “So…you wanna tell us about the painting?”

Being involved with the US Marshals, you’ve learned to give a lot of detail, knowing any little thing can be important. You go through the story and try to be as clear as possible, knowing the security footage will be watched as well.

Marcus watches his partner jot down your story and eventually it’s time to go. He doesn’t mention meeting you at seven but nods your way so you know he will be there. He hopes you still like Chinese food. He leaves with your face burned behind his eyes and he’s soon pulling up outside your house, Chinese food in hand when he rings the doorbell.

You hurry towards the door, not calling out because of habit and checking the peep hole before opening. “Marcus.” You didn’t realize how nervous you were until you are looking at the man you had to leave behind so many years ago. Smiling slightly, you open the door. “Come in, you found the apartment alright?”

Marcus nods, “it’s tucked back here but I found it. I’m surprised they didn’t put you in a more secure building. Like a high risk with a security guard and coded doors.” Marcus says and you shrug, “they did at first but now…you know how long it’s been.” Marcus nods, his heart twisting with that realization. “I got you egg rolls and orange chicken. I hope you still like that.”

“That’s perfect.” You lock the door behind him and lead him back into the apartment. “Can I get you something to drink?” You ask. “I have beer, water, some wine, tea. Whatever you like.” You’re rambling, but that’s because you are nervous.

"Uh, a beer sounds good." He says, setting the bag down on the counter. God, it's awkward and he hates it. It used to be so easy with you. He used to spend all his time with you and now, it's like starting all over again even though he knows so many intimate details about you. "Plates?" He asks and you point to the cabinet while you get a couple of beers out of the fridge. He grabs the plates and sets them on the counter then gets the containers from the bag.

“So, what do you want to know?” You ask, opening the bottles and handing him one. You know he must have a million questions and it’s fair. You disappeared out of his life without a word and the thought that this might be closure for him runs through your mind.

“Everything.” He says, his eyes widening a little as he stares at you. “I want to know what you’ve been up to.” He urges and takes a sip of his beer. “It’s been so long and you just disappeared.”

“When I witnessed the murder, I was in denial about the danger I was in.” You admit. “I had left the police station and was driving to your apartment when that bastard ran me off the road. I woke up in the hospital and the detective insisted I needed protection.” You bite your lip. “They told me it was better that no one knows. That Roberta was known to use family and friends to flush out his targets. I couldn’t put you in danger. So they moved me across the country and created a new life for me.”

Marcus knows how it works, understands now how criminals work and operate, how they find people. He shudders when he imagines what could've happened if they had found you. You hand him a fork and spoon and he opens the containers of food so you can serve it up. "I - I get it but - at that time...I went out of my mind trying to find you. I tried everyone you knew, your parents...do they know?"

You bite your lip. “I sent them an anonymous post card, about ten years ago.” You admit quietly. “Just something so they would know, hopefully, that I was safe. I know I broke their hearts, but the Marshall’s are incredibly strict. Especially since Roberta is coming up for some new trial soon.”

Marcus nods, “I moved shortly after you went missing. Ended up in the academy after graduating and I couldn’t sleep. Spent so many nights wondering what happened to you. Even looked you up in the system when I could. I missed you so much. My best friend was gone all of a sudden.”

“Marcus, I-“ you sigh softly and if you had felt like you could, you would reach out and touch his hand. “I’m so sorry. I spent so long - years - wishing I could call you. To explain. Wondering how you were.” Your apology doesn’t seem like it’s enough, but it’s all you can give him. “It took me a long time to get over you, to stop mourning what might have been.”

He sighs, knowing exactly what you mean. He mourned the loss of you, his future with you, for far too long. “I- I ended up getting married. About eight years ago. It didn’t - we got divorced. She didn’t want to compete with the ghost of you.” He admits softly, averting his eyes from yours.

“I’m so sorry.” Your heart sinks, twists and aches in a way that is ridiculous. You left. Of course Marcus had moved on, and the rational side of you wanted him to. To hear that he had, and not in a way that turned out happily, it makes you sad. “Oh Marcus, I’m so sorry.” You murmur quietly, “maybe it would have been better if he had just killed me. Then you, my parents, none of you would have spent so long wondering.”

Marcus chokes on the sip of beer he drank, shaking his head. “Absolutely not. No. I - how could you say that? I would rather you be alive than me have closure. I have closure now and you’re alive. Never say that.” He almost growls, pissed off at you for even thinking it. “Did you…have you got anyone?”

You snort and shake your head. “How?” You ask, motioning around to your apartment. “I live a life that - while comfortable - isn’t mine. No one knows who I really am. I can’t make too close of friends, because I might accidentally reveal something from my real past. A lover? For more than a night or two? No. I couldn’t lie to them. My last real relationship was you.”

He hates that you’ve been alone but he’s also secretly pleased that there’s been no one since. He still feels that flutter in his heart when he looks at you. “I have missed you so much, baby.” He murmurs, setting his fork down so he can look at you properly, for the first time in fifteen years, he takes in every detail.

You smile sadly and nod. “I’ve missed you too, Marcus. I promise you.” You huff and send him a slightly embarrassed look. “I was halfway convinced I was going to marry you after we graduated. Have babies and you and your band were gonna be famous while I designed all your merch. It was my little daydream for a long time.” You admit. “Never thought you would become a Fed.”

Marcus smiles sadly back at you, reaching for your hand. “God…I- I didn’t - I would’ve taken that life in a heartbeat. I still would. I was- shit - I was gonna ask you to marry me. When I graduated. I was gonna ask you.”

It’s so bittersweet to think about that you didn’t even catch where he said he still would. Caught up in your fantasies that had kept you sane while you were scared and alone, tears start to trail down your cheeks. You squeeze his hand and try not to sob.

Marcus shifts closer, standing up so he can wrap his arms around you. “It’s okay baby. It’s okay.” He promises, leaning in to kiss your hair. “It’s okay.” His own eyes sting with tears as he mourns the years he lost thinking you were dead.

You lean into his embrace and inhale the scent of him. The cologne has changed, matured, but the baseline is still Marcus. “I- I missed you so much.” You tell him. “I wanted to bring you. Wanted to see if you would come with me, but I couldn’t.”

“I know.” He does know. Only spouses and children. Not boyfriends. He sighs and breathes you in, “I don’t want to miss you again. Can we start again? As friends?” He asks, knowing he can’t push for more after you’ve had such a trauma and he has his own baggage he needs to divulge at some point.

Friends. You don’t want to be his friend but you nod as you pull back. “Friends.” You murmur with a small smile. “Friends should eat.” You need a moment where he’s not touching you so you can remind yourself that he’s not yours anymore. Despite the fact that you still dream about him, the boy you had loved is not the man in front of you. “And as your friend, I have to tell you that you are still gorgeous. I don’t know how you became better looking, but you have.”

Marcus can’t help it. He blushes and you giggle at the way he flushes. “You, uh, you look way better. Like - God, you look gorgeous. Always were but you seem more refined, grown up. You’re gorgeous, baby.” He promises and he settles back down at the counter so he can continue eating.

You finish your meal, sighing happily when then put your fork down and pick up your beer to finish the last swallow. “It’s been a long time since I’ve enjoyed a dinner like that.” You admit, standing so you can start to clean up. “You mentioned an ex wife and an ex fiancée, so anything else going on in your love life?” You ask causally. Just because you hadn’t moved on didn’t mean Marcus hadn’t. And if you were going to be his friend, you should know.

“It’s complicated. I haven’t been seeing anyone since Teresa. She’s my ex. She, uh, I proposed to her and then she dumped me for her partner. She’s a fed too. It set me back so I have been just enjoying my alone time recently. No one - no one seems to capture my attention.” He says, looking up at you.

“Someone will.” You predict. “I bet you are still a complete gentleman, until….” You bite your lip, aware making sexual comments is well beyond appropriate. “Until it’s time not to be.” You finish lamely and turn around to load the dishwasher.

Marcus bites his lip, remembering all the times you used to moan beneath him. He was a fumbling college kid then. He knows what he’s doing now. He wonders if you’d like his matured sexuality. “You know me too well.” He chuckles softly and stands to help you when the doorbell rings.

You turn towards the door, a flash of fear washing over your face. That same dread you get every time the doorbell rings when you aren’t expecting someone. “I’m not expecting anyone.” You tell him, moving towards the corner of the dining room where you keep a baseball bat.

Marcus shakes his head, pushing you back and reaching under his jacket in habit until he realizes he locked his weapon in his glove box. He reaches for the baseball bat and takes it from you, slowly inching towards the door and opening it. He prepares to swing but there’s no one there. He steps into the hallway and sees no one around and he turns to look at you. “No one here.” He says, frowning until he sees the note on the door.

Marcus brings the note taped to the door into the apartment and your heart drops. It’s not a letter from the building, and instinctively you know it’s trouble. “Shit.” You hiss, nearly in tears. “I- open it.” You ask Marcus. “What does it say?”

He walks in and locks the door behind him, setting the bat down so he can open the note. His eyes scan it first and he hisses in frustration. “It says…it says ‘you can’t hide forever. We know where you are. The appeal is coming and you won’t testify again. We will make sure of it’.” Marcus finishes, his blood boiling that someone has put this on your door.

“Oh God.” Your stomach flips and you swear you are about to lose your dinner. “He’s found me. I- I have to call the Marshall.” Your mind whirls and the protocols that have been drilled into your head come to mind. “I’m sorry.” For a moment you pause, hating that you had found Marcus again, only to be pulled away again. You will be relocated, disappear again and forced to live another life completely different from this one. “I wish- I wish things were different.”

Marcus shakes his head, starting to panic at the thought of losing you again. “He only knows that you live here. Take time off of work. Come- come live with me. I can protect you. He doesn’t know where I am. Please, baby. I- I don’t want to lose you again.” He knows you’d be safer moving across the country again but his selfish need to have you back in his life makes him give you a desperate plea to stay with him.

“I- wha-I- what?” You shake your head. “Marcus, I can’t- I can’t put you in danger. Roberta had connections. I- I should have called the Marshal just as soon as you recognized me.” You admit quietly. You had selfishly wanted to spend a little bit of time with him. “I would never forgive myself if you got hurt because of me.”

Marcus shakes his head, “no. I’m a goddamn fed sweetheart. I can protect you. Let me protect you.I don’t - I can’t lose you again.” He says, “I can keep you safe.”

Your heart melts and you look down at the letter. “We will need to call the Marshal assigned to my case.”

Marcus nods, heart sinking that you’re going to leave again. He swallows harshly, feeling the second chance at possibly being with you slip away and it kills him. He hates it. “Uh, yeah. I’ll, um, give you some privacy. Where’s your bathroom?” He asks, needing to pee.

You show him towards the bathroom and pull out your phone to call the number you have. Taking a deep breath, you hope they will let Marcus watch over you. Your heart beats wildly as the phone rings.

Marcus stares in the mirror, his eyes wide as he thinks about losing you again. He barely survived the first time he lost you. He isn’t sure he can do it again. He swallows harshly and washes his hands, making his way back into the living room to hear what the marshal says.

“Marcus Pike. Yes- yes I know that is my old boyfriend.” You repeat on the phone to Marshal Scott. “He’s an FBI agent. He’s working on a break in at my art gallery.” You pause, your eyes sliding to Marcus as he walks back in the room. “No, no the break in was about a painting. I didn’t think I needed to call you. Yes.” You sigh. “I know I should have called you when he recognized me, but I didn’t. I just- I wanted to be me for a little bit.”

Marcus leans against your kitchen counter, not wanting to interrupt and he’s nervous about the answer. He knows how this works and he is worried about you disappearing and him never seeing you again, just like before.

“No. No, don’t do that.” You have been watching Marcus this entire time and you decide you can’t leave. Scott wants to relocate you again, like you had expected. “He’s an FBI agent. He said I could stay at his place.” That’s not exactly what Marcus had said, but your improvising. “Yes, I’m declining a relocate.” Another long pause while Scott reminds you exactly what Roberta had ordered for you. “Yes, I know. I know I’m risking my life.” You sigh and relax. “I’ll call you with the details.”

Marcus relaxes slightly, glad that you aren’t relocating yet. The marshal could change his mind but he agrees to it for now. You hang up the phone and Marcus offers you a reassuring smile. “You wanna come to mine tonight or tomorrow?”

“Can we go tonight?” You ask quietly. “I don’t like the idea they know where I am.” You shiver slightly and look towards your windows, thankfully already shut and covered. “I’m sorry. I should have asked if it was okay first.”

Marcus nods, stepping closer to you to place his hand on your upper arm. “Of course we can.” He assures you, knowing you have to be scared after so long on the run. “Come on baby, go pack what you need. I can always come back with you if you need something you forget.”

You nod and quickly make your way into the bedroom so you can pack a bag. You’ll have to close the gallery, but that has already been planned because of the break in. At your underwear drawer, you bite your lip, chastising yourself as you throw some lingerie in it. Knowing that it won’t be used, but you can’t help but want to feel a little sexy around the love of your life.

When you come back out, Marcus is already checking the vicinity outside of your window, discreetly looking for any out of place cars or people. “I think it’s clear but you need to stay close to me. We will get your car tomorrow, it needs to be checked and I don’t want them to have put a tracker on it and us not notice and lead them right to you.” He explains and you nod. “You got everything?” He asks. You nod again and he gestures for you to shift behind him. “Stay five paces behind me.”

Your eyes widen at how direct and professional he is. It’s a turn on if you are honest and he transforms from the sweet man you have loved since you were twenty, to a steely eyed agent in front of your eyes. Staying five steps behind him, you stop when he stops and watch as he scans the parking lot before hustling you to his car.

Marcus pushes you into his car and grabs your bag to put it in the trunk before he makes his way to the driver's side. He gets in and checks his surroundings before he’s pulling away from your apartment complex. “I’ll take the long way home. Looping around just in case someone follows.” He explains and he turns the radio off, wanting to concentrate. “How many times have you moved?” He asks? Wanting to know.

“Four.” You admit, nervously glancing behind you every twenty seconds. “They found me once right after they arrested Roberta. Then they followed the agents when I testified. And once more when an old high school friend ended up being in the same town.” You bite your lip. “When they followed the agents, they killed them.” You don’t want that to happen to Marcus. “Maybe it’s better if you put me in a hotel.”

Marcus shakes his head, fingers tightening on the steering wheel. “No. No. I’m not sending you off. I- I can’t do that. I can’t - I’d never see you again. I know I’m being selfish but I can keep you safe. You just have to listen to everything I tell you.” He says, “I don’t want to lose you.”

Listening to him ramble, you realize how much your disappearance affected him. “I’m so sorry.” You murmur quietly, wanting to reach out and touch him, but it would distract him. “Am I-“ you break off and then take a breath. “Why did you go into the FBI, Marc?” You ask softly. You don’t want to assume that you are the reason that he changed his career goals, but it was a bit of a stretch from music and business - to appease his parents - to being an FBI agent.

Marcus sighs, biting his lip for a moment before he responds back to you. “I- I was so desperate to find you when you disappeared. Just to know what happened. If you were dead or if I did something wrong. I wanted to have closure so I figured that becoming a cop would get me access but I decided to go further and become a fed. Went to Quantico and even when I graduated and started my first job, I couldn’t find you in the system. Business wasn’t going to get me answers. Music certainly wasn’t.”

“I - I’m so sorry.” You can never apologize enough, and you can only hope that his job fulfills him. That he enjoys the work he does. “I wish I had gotten to talk to you one last time before I left. I begged them, cried for weeks and they even had to hospitalize me because I was so sick from crying. My entire world was gone and it nearly killed me.”

Marcus swallows harshly, hating to hear that. “Sweetheart, I wish - there’s so much I would change but I like my job. I like helping people and putting bad guys away. It’s fulfilling and I can help change peoples lives. I wish- I wish it was me who was sent away. I would’ve traded places with you in a heartbeat.”

“This life has been hard, Marc.” You shake your head. “It’s lonely and I wouldn’t wish that on you. You are too social. You like being around people, talking to people too much. And your parents…..” you had loved how welcoming his parents were when you met them. It would have killed them to lose their only child.

He wishes he could turn back the clock. Stop you going to that damn outlet mall and keep you safe with him so he wouldn't have missed you for fifteen years. Marcus nods, knowing he would’ve found it hard but he would’ve done it if it meant keeping you safe. “I - I could’ve dealt with it.” He says, shifting his hands on the steering wheel. “I love - I loved you so much.” He murmurs, pulling into his community.

“I loved you too.” It’s easy to admit, even if all those old feelings are rushing back with astonishing speed. Not that you ever really fell out of love with him. You admire the neat brick of the stately townhomes. “Wow, you found one here?” You ask, knowing that you had never managed to find anything close to this when you had been looking.

Marcus smiles, “yeah. I…I was supposed to move in here with my fiancé but- that one. Yeah. I- I envisioned having a family here and it didn’t happen but it is what it is.” He says, sounding a little sad but he can’t help but mourn a life he could’ve had.

“I’m sorry.” It hurts to think of Marcus with someone else, but it's been fifteen years. You don’t have any claim on him. “Hopefully one day you will have the life you want. I would just love to use my name. My real name. It seems like getting married and having kids is the dream of another life. I used to look forward to it, but now?” You shrug. “Life hasn’t turned out the way either of us wanted it seems.”

Marcus nods, "I know." He murmurs and he kills the engine of his car. "Shall we go inside?" He asks, wondering if you are ready. "I'm gonna get out first and make sure there's no one in the vicinity and then I will get you in, then grab your bag." He says, leaving no room for argument when it comes to your safety.

You nod, watching as he steps out of the car and you clutch your purse. It’s overwhelming, watching his dark eyes roam over the parking lot and then he walks over to you and opens the door. He’s professional, but there’s more to it, this is personal for him and it makes you shiver. Feeling for the first time in fifteen years like you might be safe.

When Marcus opens his front door, he disarms it and locks the door behind you, telling you to wait there while he checks his home hasn’t been found. After sweeping the home, he comes back into the hallway and nods, “all clear.” He says and you make your way into his home.

Marcus’ home is exactly what you would imagine adult Marcus to have. Neat and clean, the furniture is a bit on the masculine side but there are touches of softness. A three wick candle on the coffee table, a soft looking throw over the back of the leather sofa. Comforting and inviting. You wipe your hands on your pants and sigh.

“I hope you like it here. I’m sorry it’s basic. It’s just me.” He chuckles awkwardly. “I can show you to the guest room. Let me grab your bag. I’ll lock the door on my way out.” He says and makes his way back down the hall.

You look around the living room and step into the dining room and kitchen as he opens the front door. Curious about how he lived. You open the fridge door and chuckle, not seeing much and guessing that Marcus still prefers to have someone else cook for him. He wasn’t very good at it. At least he wasn’t when you were together. Though he had all the proper cookware. Cooking had become a hobby of yours, something you could do alone. You close the door and your head turns towards the door as it opens again. Tense and hoping it’s Marcus.

He walks in with your bag, licking the door behind him, alarming the alarm system. He guides you along to his spare room, opening the door. “Hopefully it’s okay.” He says shyly, offering you a soft smile.

“It’s perfect.” It could be the couch for all you care, it’s the thought that counts. Marcus is taking you into his home. “Thank you, Marc.” Reaching out and touching his shoulder, you give him a grateful smile. “I know you didn’t have to do this. Is there any way we could have some groceries delivered? Let me cook for you to thank you?”

Marcus smiles, “yeah. I’d love that. We can arrange for groceries to be delivered.” He promises and shrugs, “I’m still as bad a cook as I ever was. It would be nice to have some home cooked meals for a change. Takeout has me doing more morning runs.” He playfully taps his stomach.

“Whatever.” You scoff, rolling your eyes. “You’re hotter now than you were back then.” You blurt out, feeling your face burn when you realize you said that out loud. It could be wrong, but you don’t think so. Not when Marcus suddenly ducks his head and you swear you see him blush some. “I’m assuming I’m staying here until the threat is gone?” You ask. “No work?”

He nods, “no work. We can’t risk them finding you there.” He says and you sigh but concede. “For the record, you have always been gorgeous. Even more so now.” He says, biting his lip and hoping he didn’t overstep.

“And you still know how to make a girl feel like the only one in the world.” You murmur quietly, stepping closer to him and wishing that it hadn’t been fifteen years since you had last seen him. “Do you know how much that affects a girl?”

Marcus blushes slightly, feeling like a college kid again despite a divorce and a failed engagement. He’s been around the block and he is scared to screw things up, especially when he has to keep you safe. He clears his throat and reaches for your hand to squeeze it. “I have missed you, sweetheart.”

“If it’s not something you want, or you can’t, let me know.” You start off, deciding that you want to take a leap and see if Marcus still wants you. “But…” you step closer. “If I have to be in your house, protected by you….” You smirk and bite your lip. “Wouldn’t I be safest in your bed?”

Marcus swallows harshly, a little nervous but his cock is already hardening at the thought of having you in his arms. He steps closer until his chest is pressed against yours. “I think that would probably be best.” He agrees, “that way I can ensure your well-being.” He murmurs, his eyes darting down to your lips. He knows he’s crossing so many professional lines but fuck, he wants you. “I shouldn’t but-” He surges forward to press his lips to yours, unable to stop himself.

You moan into the kiss, immediately tangling your fingers into his hair and tugging on it like you used to. In an instant, you feel like you are in your twenties again, hopelessly in love and needing your boyfriend. “Marcus.” You whimper, pulling back so you can push his jacket off his shoulders and pause when you see his gun. “Take me to your bed and make love to me.”

He groans, reluctantly pulling back and he takes your hand, guiding you to his bedroom. He flicks the lamp on and works on removing his gun, checking the safety and setting it down on his nightstand before he shrugs out of the holster. He pulls his tie off and reaches for you, grabbing the hem of your shirt to pull it out of your skirt, wanting to touch you after so many years. “God, you’re still so fucking gorgeous.” He murmurs, his eyes drinking you in when you are in your bra.

Your fingers work the buttons of his dress shirt, trying to remember the last time you had been this excited to sleep with someone. You’ve had lovers over the years, the physical needs making it almost certain you would have them, but no one had ever compared to Marcus. “Fuck,” you can see the tent he’s starting to sport, obviously still a boxers man.

Marcus fumbles to unclasp your bra, needing to touch you and when you drop your arms to let him pull it off of you after you push his shirt down his arms, his hands immediately cup your tits. “Have these gotten bigger?” He asks, squeezing them and massaging them.

“Yes.” Your eyes flutter closed as he touches you, managing to blindly push his shirt over shoulders that seem broader than they used to be. He’s in an undershirt, of course he is, and you love it. “I’m bigger.” You joke.

He shakes his head and reluctantly releases you so he can pull his shirt over his head with one hand. Once it’s fluttering to the floor, he’s reaching for you and pulling you against him so he can feel your skin on his. “Forgot how beautiful your tits are.” He says and leans down to kiss along your neck.

“Fuck Marc.” You moan, tilting your head back so he can kiss more of your skin. “You always were a tits man.” You tease him, reaching between you to squeeze his hard cock through his suit trousers.

He groans into your skin, inhaling the sweet scent that’s purely you. Burned into his memory from all those years ago and it’s like coming home. His lips kiss along your chest until he’s taking your nipple into his mouth, his hands caressing your back and sliding down to squeeze your ass as he hunches over you.

Gasping out in pleasure, you pull him towards your breast. Enjoying the way that he suckles and bites, the way he’s remembered how you like to be touched. He switches over to the other breast and he slides his hand around you to start unbuttoning your pants.

Marcus works fast to push your skirt down your legs, groaning your name as he exposes your underwear and he kneels, pushing his nose against your mound. “God, I forgot how good you smell.” He groans and hooks his fingers in the cotton, dragging them down and you kick your panties aside after kicking your shoes off of your feet. Marcus dives back in, his nose pressing into your folds as his tongue slides through them, tasting you for the first time in fifteen years.

“Marc!” Your cry is strangled, almost choked out as you grasp for anything to keep you upright. Hand slapping against the wall as you remember exactly why you loved Marcus’ tongue so much. His skills have only improved with time and you moan when he flicks his tongue over your clit expertly.

His fingers curl around your leg, lifting it into his shoulder so he can get deeper into your pussy. His tongue pushing deep and he groans your name. “Fuck baby. So good.” He murmurs into your flesh when he pulls back for a moment, “always tasted so good.” He dives back in and slides his tongue through your folds, sucking your clit into his mouth.

Having Marcus eat you out is like a gift from God. Most men are lazy with it, or refuse to go down on someone even though they expect a blowjob. Marcus eats pussy like he was born to do it, like it’s his favorite sport in the world. Making you shiver when he groans into your folds and your leg trembles as he pushes you closer to cumming.

He pushes you further into the wall, keeping you upright and his hand slides along your leg and up your body to squeeze your tit, pinching your nipple and his other hand slides between your legs, pushing two fingers inside of you with a groan. He desperately wants you to cum for him now.

“Oh fuck, Marc baby, baby, I’m gonna cum.” You moan, your head hitting the wall with a thud and your entire body lurches forward. “Shit, gonna- gonna cum.” Your walls clench down on him and you wail his name as you soak his fingers.

Marcus hisses into your flesh as you clamp down on his fingers, soaking them, and he sucks on your clit a little harder, wanting to absorb every second of your orgasm after so many years apart. His fingers pump inside of you and he pulls his mouth away when you start to shove on his hair and he tilts his head up so he can watch you as you cum.

Desperate little gasps rip out of your throat as he keeps your body jerking and twitching for him. Knowing exactly where to press inside you cunt in order to push another sob out of you. Your eyes are closed and you start chanting his name. “Marc, Marc, Marc baby, please.”

He wants you to cum again. His fingers keep pressing and pushing inside of you, his lips kissing along your thigh and he presses his thumb against your clit. “So good for me baby.” He murmurs, needing you to cum for him.

Your eyes spring open when you realize he wants you to roll straight into a second orgasm. “Fuck!” You squeal, feeling your walls bear down on his fingers again and your body shakes as you come apart.

His fingers curl and he kisses your stomach as he enjoys the way your walls are fluttering around his fingers. He adds a third, stretching you out and his thumb rubs your clit a little harder, “so pretty. Never forgot how pretty you are like this.”

“Marcus.” You groan. “I need you.” You reach down and try to pull him up so you can kiss him. “I want you inside me.” You beg. “I have an IUD and it’s been over a year since I’ve been with anyone. More like two.”

“Cum on my fingers and I’ll fuck you.” He promises, kissing your stomach again and his free hand reaches for yours to grip it. “Cum for me again.” He pleads, wanting to see you do it.

“Three?” You gasp out, holding onto his hand like a lifeline as you try to stay upright. Your leg threatens to give out as he continues to pump his fingers into you deep and precise. Pressing against that special spot again. Your breath echoes in your ears until stars burst behind your eyes and you scream out his name.

He nearly loses it when you cum again, clamping down on his fingers and he works you through it until you are slumping over him. He withdraws his fingers, surging forward to press his lips to yours as your leg is still wrapped around his waist as he presses you against the wall while his tongue tangled with yours.

You moan, tasting yourself on his tongue and not minding it one bit. Wrapping your arms around him and pulling him close. Needing to feel him against you as he presses you into the wall.

Marcus needs you. He scrambles to pull you along with him and soon he’s laying you down on his bed, working on his pants to push them down. He groans in relief at finally having his cock free and you whimper in response at seeing it again. He kicks off his shoes and hops out of his pants, eventually ending up kneeling on the bed.

“God, I missed you.” You whisper, drinking in the sight of him. He’s filled out, not quite as skinny as he was in college. Broader and stronger and he still turns you on more than any other man you’ve ever been with. “Come to me, baby.” You reach out for him, wanting to feel him again.

Marcus can’t deny you anymore. He shifts between your legs, his chest heaving as he grips his cock and notches himself at your entrance. His dark eyes meet yours in the lamplight as he starts to push inside of you. Shifting to his forearms so he can press his lips to yours.

It’s overwhelming and perfect. Your lips melting against his as the girth of him stretches you out. Filling you perfectly like you’ve never been able to replicate with anyone else. Your eyes flutter closed and all you can do is moan your pleasure.

He slides his tongue against yours, enjoying the way you seem to melt beneath him. There’s so much he wants to say but he can’t. He can’t tell you how much he loves you when he can show you. He moves his hips, setting a slow place, his lips shifting to kiss down your neck.

Instead of being frantic and rushed, you find the pace turning slow and steady. Making you groan as you start to rock you hips in rhythm with him. Your fingers caress his back and you feel the muscles dance underneath the skin. “Marcus.”

He should be frantic but after so many years without you, he just needs to feel all of you. He moans your name into your skin, his cock twitching inside of you when your nails dig into his back when he hits something deep inside of you. “Missed you. Missed this so much.” He murmurs, his heart pounding in his chest.

“I missed you too, baby.” You promise him, closing your eyes and smiling as he moans again. “Fuck, I - I love you.” You confess. “I’ve never stopped, it’s always been you.”

Marcus swears his heart stops at that moment. “Always been you.” He echoes, “I love you. I love you. Baby, I love you.” He declares breathlessly and his pace gets a little faster with his need to see and hear you fall apart beneath him again.

Wrapping your legs around his waist, you moan his name again. “I love you.” You pant. “Marcus, I love you. Oh, it’s so good.” Your nails dig into his shoulders and your cunt squeezes him tight. “Baby, I’m gonna cum.”

You gasp and he keeps the pace and thrust of his hips the same, not wanting to change when you tell him you’re about to cum. He wants to feel it. He wants to feel you soak him again. “That’s it sweetheart. Do it. Cum for me.”

You want to stay in this moment forever. The way that his body is slick with sweat and his grunts as he rocks into you. The warmth of his breath washing over your skin and the throbbing of the veins in his cock against your walls. Still, he had begged you to cum and that’s all you can. Your body primed for it and the next thrust as your back arching and your cry ripping from your throat.

“Fuck.” Marcus pants when you clamp down on his cock. It’s so good and he loves it. He loves everything about this moment. It’s more than anything he’s experienced since you disappeared from his life. Even his marriage could never have lived up to this. He groans, knowing he should try and make you cum again but the emotions are too much and he’s soon pushing deep inside of you, cock twitching as he paints your walls with his hot seed.

Once he collapses on top of you, you can’t help but giggle. Relief, joy and happiness all roll together to make you try to catch your breath while you stroke his back and kiss his shoulder and neck. “God. I have to be dreaming.” You giggle. “This is the best dream and I don’t want to wake up.”

Marcus shifts onto his back, bringing you with him and his cock is softening inside of you. His hands rubbing your back. “Me neither. I never want to lose you again.” He murmurs, eyes closed as he breathes you in.

You hum in agreement, unable to believe that you are back in his arms and you close your eyes. Relaxing into a deep sleep, finally feeling safe for the first time in fifteen years.

Marcus holds you as you fall asleep, not able to fall asleep just yet and he shifts carefully to lay you down. You stir without his heat but he’s quick to cover you up. He sneaks into the bathroom, wetting a rag to clean you up and covers you with the duvet again. He checks the windows and doors, making sure the home is secure and the alarm is set before he grabs two bottles of water and sets one down on the nightstand for you. He slides under the covers and you immediately reach for him, curling into his chest. Wrapping his arms around you, he breathes you in and closes his eyes; deciding then and there that he will do whatever it takes to keep you safe.

****

Glancing at the clock as you stir, you wonder when Marcus will be home. Grinning to yourself as you realize that you think of this townhouse as home. It’s only been a few days, but if you are scared, you don’t feel like it. You’ve been puttering around the house when he has to leave, curling up with him when he’s here. It’s been magical and it makes you yearn for the life you would have had together if you hadn’t been put into witness protection.

Marcus is exhausted, rubbing his forehead as he stares at the latest security footage where he’s trying to find Roberta. On top of trying to find the art thief, he’s personally working to try and find the gang making you conceal from the world. He feels guilty that he’s loved having you in his home, coming home to you every night. It’s like living a fantasy of what if he had proposed and you hadn’t disappeared. He loves it. He loves you. It’s hard to remind himself that you’re in danger and he has to help you otherwise it could be your life. He glances at the clock and decides to call it a day, wanting to go home to you.

The table is set and there’s a bottle of wine open to breathe. It might be a little over the top for a Tuesday night, but you have nothing else to do but work on some recipes that you have been wanting to try. A little romantic and it pairs well with the lingerie that you had decided to put on under your dress. Feeling a little like a 1950’s housewife when you hear the designated three raps on the door to say that Marcus is home.

Marcus unlocks the door, disarming the alarm and resetting it with his entrance and he makes sure the door is locked behind him before he sets his briefcase down and makes his way into the kitchen. “Hey sweetheart. God, that smells good.” He groans, looking over at the stove and he reaches for you, dragging you into his chest so he can press his lips to yours.

“Hey.” You light up when you see him again. “I hope you’re hungry.”

“Starving. I can eat too.” He teases, smirking at you and you giggle and slap his chest. “I love you.” He murmurs, nudging his nose against yours, “can’t believe I get to come home to you every night.” He confesses, “feels like a goddamn dream and I’m gonna wake up at some point.”

“I do too.” You agree softly, your hand sliding down to caress his cheek. “It’s been such a treat, as horrible as that sounds. I know I can’t go outside and my life is in danger, but I get to have you.” You lean in and kiss him softly. “How was your day, baby?”

“Don’t worry baby. I’m gonna find him. I’ll make sure you’re safe.” He promises, leaning in to kiss you softly again. “Day was…laborious. I was going over the security footage and files for both cases and I- I am trying to run through accounts but the bureaucracy slows me down.” He confesses with a frown.

“Then it sounds like a good meal and a relaxing night is just.” You kiss his chin. “What.” Your lips brush his cheek. “You.” Another to his nose. “Need.” You smirk as you kiss his lips. “I’m thinking that after you eat, you need a nice, long, luxurious blow job to put you at ease.”

Marcus chuckles, his hands sliding down to squeeze your ass. “You’re too good to me, baby.” He shakes his head, “as long as I get to eat you out too.” He murmurs, leaning in to kiss along your jaw just as the timer for your cooking goes off. He smacks your ass, “I’ll pour the wine and I’m doing the washing up. You are gonna relax after.” He insists, shrugging off his jacket to hang it in the hallway before he comes back in to get the bottle of wine.

You would protest, but you’ve cleaned as you cooked, so there’s only the final dish and the plates that would need to be cleaned up. You rush to plate up dinner and admire him as he rolls up his sleeves to pour the wine after he pulls off his tie. It’s a nice night, the two of you and a good meal, some wine and continuing to learn about each other’s lives while you’ve been apart. “Oh, before I forget, I called Scott today. Checked in. He’s still not happy, but he says you have been keeping them in the loop, so he’s content to leave me here.”

Marcus nods, setting the wine bottle down. “I know he’s not happy but it is what it is. We haven’t had any notes or any threats since you’ve been here. We’ve had a man outside your place since you left and they haven’t seen any activity. I think you’re safe. No, I know you’re safe.” He tries to assure you, “and I swear to you I’ll find the bastard and his team.”

“I know you will.” You’ve learned a lot about his career and exactly how good of an agent Marcus is. “I’m honestly-“ you shrug. “I’m happy right here. I know I’m probably intruding on your personal space, but I’ve been as relaxed as I could possibly be, given that someone is trying to kill me.” You joke.

Marcus shakes his head, reaching for you. “There’s nowhere else I want you to be than right here with me. I was selfish. You’d be safer across the country but I - I couldn’t lose you again. I love you so much.” He says, leaning in to kiss your forehead again.

Marcus chuckles, letting go of you so you can both sit down to eat. He groans at the sight of the meal you’ve cooked and his stomach rumbles. “I gotta get bigger pants. I haven’t eaten this good since I left my mom’s house.” Marcus chuckles, picking up the serving spoon. “You are too good to me.” He murmurs, looking up to meet your gaze and he serves your plate first.

“Not with all the exercise you’ve been getting.” You tease, sending him a small wink. Every night Marcus has exhausted you. Fucking you in every room of this townhouse and almost every surface with his insatiable appetite for you. Both of you collapse into bed to sleep in each other's arms. It’s like you’re twenty again. “Still sexy and fit.”

He can’t help but flush as he serves himself and sets the spoon down. “The exercise has been keeping me fit.” He says while blushing and he reaches for the glass of wine. “To still being sexy and fit.” He toasts and you clink your glass with his. “I know you are getting bored in this place. I’m doing everything I can to get this bastard so you can have your life back. See your parents. Your friends. I’m doing what I can.” He promises after you have finished eating.

“I would love to see my parents.” You admit, reaching out and gasping his hand. “Would you- would you come with me?” You ask. “When I go to see them? Explain what happened? I understand if you can’t, you’re putting off so much to help me.”

Marcus nods, “of course. Of course I’ll be there. Baby, what - this is-” He swallows harshly and squeezes your hand, “every day I allow myself to believe that this is our life together. I have a little fantasy that I’m coming home to my wife. To our family. I imagine us having a child or two. I- I want this to be forever. Like I wanted it to be forever fifteen years ago. It’s always been you.” He promises, feeling guilty for being married and engaged but those failed because those women never matched up.

He’s apologized to you for not looking for you harder, for moving on. All things that you never expected and don’t want him to be upset over. Those expressive eyes search yours and you smile softly. “It’s been my little fantasy too.” You confess. “When you find Roberta and I can be myself again, why don’t we make that a reality?” You ask. “Would you marry me, Marcus?”

“In a heartbeat.” He assures you, “I’d marry you tomorrow if I could. I- I was going to, you know, I was going to propose not long after I played you that song. I always imagined my life with you. No one else. Even when I was married, I thought of what could have been. I want to marry you.” He promises, “and I will. I’ll get Roberts and you can be Mrs. Pike. Have the life we should’ve had.”

You can’t help but grin, leaping up from your chair so you can rush around and press your lips to his in a greedy kiss. Feeling like every dream you’ve created to keep yourself sane is coming true. Marcus is your knight in shining armor and you want nothing more than for him to rescue you. “Whatever you need me to do, to help you put this behind us, I’m willing to do.” You promise him. “I want to start my life with you.”

Marcus pulls you into his lap, cupping your cheek so he can kiss you again. “I love you.” He murmurs, nudging your nose, and he will do anything he can to keep you safe. Even if it means laying down his own life. He will do it to keep you safe.

“Baby, don’t worry about cleaning up, let’s go to bed.” You beg, caressing his cheek. “I need you. I need you so much.”

Marcus can’t refuse you. He nods, shifting to stand up with you and he takes your hand, dishes abandoned as he guides you to the bedroom, your now shared bedroom. When he is holding you after you’ve made love and you’re asleep, he’ll stare at the ceiling, trying to think of anything that he read in the files to help him catch the bastard that’s after you.

You decide that you don’t want Marcus to undress you. Pulling away from him with a smile, you’re happy you decided on a wrap dress that is easily removed. Most morning Marcus leaves you in the bed, pulling away quietly so he doesn’t disturb you and when you wake up, it’s because of the shower. So he didn’t see the lingerie you had chosen for him.

Marcus groans when you unravel your dress. His eyes drinking in the silk and lace clinging to your body and his cock is now throbbing in his slacks. “Fuck baby. You look so good.” He murmurs, “so good. I’m so lucky to have you.” He declares and surges forward to wrap his arms around you, pulling you close so he can press his lips to yours, pushing the dress off of your shoulders.

Moaning softly, you smile into the kiss, just as eager. Just as wanting as Marcus. Your fingers memorizing how many buttons it takes to strip off his smart dress shirts. Eager to feel his warm skin underneath. “Make love to me Marcus.” You beg.

He won’t say no, couldn’t say no even if he wanted to. He wants you. Fuck, he wants this for the rest of his life. When your hands touch his chest, he groans your name and he unclasps the pretty lace bra, “so pretty. Look so pretty in this.”

“I think you like me in anything.” You tease him, giggling quietly. “But you love me in nothing.” You work on his belt to unclasp it and unhook his pants to reach down and squeeze his cock. Groaning when you feel how hard he is.

“Love you in anything and nothing at all. Love every inch of you.” He promises, “I love you. You.” He murmurs, sliding his hands along your back and then your arms as he slides the straps down your arms until he’s ducking down to take your nipple into his mouth.

There’s something about Marcus, he’s thorough. He wants his partner to be satisfied and he finds what makes them tick. Your moan of his name is soft, accompanied by your wrist twisting, starting to pump his cock as best you can. “Baby, no foreplay. I just need you.” You whine.

He whines back, having wanted to eat you out but he doesn’t deny you. He nods, guiding you back towards the bed and he lays you down while he shrugs out of his pants and throws his clothes on the floor. His hands trail along your legs until he’s hooking his fingers into your panties to drag them down.

“Marcus.” You whimper, rocking your hips up as he stands straight and strips his trousers down. His boxers have a large tent in the middle with a wet spot and you groan at the sight. “Fuck, I want you to fuck me, but I want to suck your cock.”

Marcus smirks, “tell me what you want baby. Whatever you want is yours. I’m yours.” He promises and reaches down to shove his boxers down. His cock bouncing as he kicks them aside.

“Fuck.” You moan, biting your lip before you turn around and tilt your head off the end of the bed. “Fuck my throat, baby. I want to feel you gag me before you fuck me stupid tonight.” Making love takes various forms, after all.

“Jesus. Such a dirty little girl, aren’t you?” He coos, shuffling closer and he caresses your neck before gripping his cock. He pushes the head between your lips and you take him inside of your mouth, making him groan. “So damn good.” He murmurs, watching you as you take him deeper, his hand immediately going to your neck so he can feel the bulge from his length.

You moan, enjoying the look on his face until your vision is blocked by his body. Letting him use your throat as you try to open it up more for him. Marcus is girthy and it’s a lot, tears leaking out of your eyes and rolling back into your hair, but you love it.

“Jesus Christ. This is - fuck. You’re gonna make me cum.” He grunts, pulling out of your mouth. He wants to try that again another time when he can properly fuck and cum down your throat but that night isn’t tonight after you’ve confessed you want a future with him. You pant, trying to catch your breath and he caresses your cheek. “How do you want me?” He asks, wanting you to decide.

So much of the time, Marcus is in control. Giving you pleasure and making sure that you enjoy yourself. Right now, you want to take care of him. “I want to ride you baby.” You decide, sitting up and reaching for him. “Let me take care of my future hubby tonight.” You coo, grinning at how that sounds.

He grins, nodding as he shifts to lay down on the bed, watching you move to your knees. “Come here, my love.” He beckons you over, needing to feel every emotion he’s withheld over the past fifteen years. He wants you to take what you want from him.

You go eagerly, crawling up his body and dropping random kisses. There’s nothing about Marcus that you don’t love. When you straddle his waist, your waist no time in dropping a kiss on his lips while you reach between the two of you to grasp his cock and quickly sink down on him.

“Shit.” Marcus hisses, his heart about to beat out of his chest and he swears he could die then and there and be a happy man. His hands find your hips as you take all of him inside of you and he groans your name, surging up to deepen the kiss as his tongue slides into your mouth.

You start off slow. Rolling your hips while you groan into the kiss. Circling them and clenching down on Marcus to hear the lovely little gasp he gives. Your fingers find his hair and you swear you could live right here. “Love you.” You promise, sliding your hands onto his chest and pushing upright. “Whenever someone touched me, it felt so wrong. You’re my love, my lover, my soulmate.”

Marcus slides his hands along your back as you start to rock on his cock. "I love you. I love you so much, sweetheart." He murmurs, caressing you and his dark eyes watch you as you move on top of him. "You're everything. My everything." He promises, heart thumping in his chest.

“One day I want to have your babies.” You promise him, moaning softly at the thought. “You were made to be a daddy, and I can’t wait to see you holding our baby.” You clench down around him again at the thought.

Marcus groans, cock twitching inside of you at the thought. "Fuck." He grunts, hands sliding down to squeeze your ass. "Fuck yes. I want - God, I want to get you pregnant." He confesses, "always imagined you as the mother of my children."

You know it ticks off some primal things for Marcus, it does for you too. You moan softly again and rock forward to kiss him. “I want that. At least two.” You pant into his mouth, imagining the two of you as new parents. Building the life you had daydreamed about when you were incredibly lonely.

“At least.” He agrees, knowing he won’t be able to keep his hands off of you when he gets you pregnant. “God, I love - I can’t not love you. Haven’t stopped since you left. No one was you. They were never you.” He confesses, helping you rock on his cock.

Your heart melts at that sentiment. Smiling against his lips as he continues to help you ride him. Slowly speeding up to where his cock hits perfectly inside you. Feeling him twitch every time he is seated deep as if he is ready to fill your womb with his seed.

"Are you going to cum for me, sweetheart? What do you need? Tell me what you need to soak my cock?" He asks, wanting to feel it, he needs to feel it.

“Just you baby.” You gasp, slapping your hands down in his chest and starting to rock faster. “Gonna cum baby, fuck, you feel so good.” You moan. “So full, fuck, you’re so thick, baby.” You always love how thick he is and how well he fills you up. “Love you, so fucking much.”

“That’s it. That’s it sweet girl. Fuck, that’s it. Cum for me.” He begs, sweat beading on his forehead as he watches you rock your hips a little faster. Those little whines and whimpers escaping your mouth tell him you’re close and he slides his hand down to rub your clit.

Your toes curl and you cry out, your orgasm slamming into you and making you lurch forward. Collapsing again this chest and chanting his name over and over as your body spasms.

Marcus groans at the way you clamp down on his cock and he moves fast to lay you on your back. Grabbing your thighs to lift them onto his waist so he can sink deep into your quivering cunt. He groans your name, his cock twitching inside of you as he gets close but he needs you to cum more time for him.

“Baby!” You squeal, feeling your body tense up as you ride out your orgasm. You would beg him to cum but you can tell from the look in his eyes that he has no intention of cumming until you do again. Marcus prides himself on making you cum multiple times. “Fuck baby.” Your nails scratch down his back and you tighten your thighs around him, closing your eyes and feeling your core start to tighten again as he rockets you to another orgasm.

Marcus pushes deeper, harder, the affection from before replaced with pure lust. Driven by the need to claim you, he thrusts into you over and over again. “Cum.” He chokes, needing to feel it and when you clamp down on his cock for the second time, he can’t help but paint your walls with his hot seed as he orgasms with you.

Moaning his name softly, you stroke his back as he groans. Enjoying the softness of his embrace as you both start to relax. “I love you.” You murmur quietly. “I can’t want to start our life together.”

Marcus presses his forehead to your chest, breathing you in, and he murmurs, "me too baby. I can't wait. Once you're safe, it's the two of us for the rest of our lives." He promises, kissing along your neck. "I love you."

After you’ve cleaned up and settled against Marcus, you fall asleep. Wondering when the shoe is going to drop and worrying that you might lose him again.

****

Marcus checks the time, knowing he should be calling you to touch base. He likes to call every hour or so to make sure everything is okay at home. He picks up his cell, dialing the burner phone he got you and he waits for it to ring. No answer. Weird. He doesn’t like that. He tries again. No answer.

At first, you thought Marcus was home, until there was no rap at the door. Abandoning the meal you were prepping, you grab your phone, your heart pounding in your chest as you race up the stairs as quietly as you can. Reaching the second floor just as the door opens and the blare of the alarm sounds out, though it’s quickly silenced. The phone buzzes but all you can think is that you need to hide, as fast as possible and call Marcus. It’s seems as if you’ve been found.

When you finally answer the phone, Marcus can’t help but ask if you’re okay. Frantic when you answer and don’t actually speak. “Baby. Tell me. Tell me if you’re okay. Please. I -talk to me. Talk to me.” He begs, needing to hear that you’re okay.

Your mouth is dry and you can barely whisper. “Marcus.” You manage. “He’s here. Someone’s in the house.” You try to keep your voice as low as you can, terrified that you will give away your hiding spot under the bed.

Marcus’s blood runs cold when he hears your whisper and he fears for your life. He grabs his work landline, dialing his team to get people over to his house right away. He’s terrified for you. “Just hold on baby. Stay on the phone. I’ll be right there.” He promises, standing up from the desk so he can get home.

“Hurry.” You breathe out, turning the volume down and holding your breath as you hear the first signs of someone downstairs since the alarm went off.

Marcus shoves himself away from his desk, heart pounding as he rushes towards his car after telling his team about how he has to get to you. He can’t lose you again. His heart pounds and he speeds, his team following as he gets to his home in record time.

You never realize how loud you are when you breathe until you are trying to be completely silent. Scrunching back under the bed as far as you can go and slowly sliding the storage boxes in front of you so you are well hidden. Listening for the creak on the third stair that Marcus groans about having repaired.

Marcus has you on the phone, having switched lines for a mere moment

to get a team to his house within the next ten minutes. He speeds along the roads of D.C to his home, running through reds with no care except that it’s clear. “I’m coming baby.” He promises, “I’m coming.”

You can’t acknowledge him, too terrified to make a sound as you hear someone creep up the stairs. Your blood runs cold when you hear a voice say your name. “I’ve been looking for you. Come out and I’ll kill you quickly.” He taunts. “Make me find you….well, I’ve been in prison a loooooooong time because of you.”

Marcus drives faster, pulling into his neighborhood and he hears your scream. Slamming his brake, he puts the car in park, uncaring of his engine still running as he grabs his gun and rushes through the front door. He freezes when he comes across Roberta, his gun pressed against your forehead.

He had found you, screaming and fighting, he had dragged you out from under the bed with a curse and hopefully a bruised shin. Until he had pressed his gun against your forehead and ordered you downstairs. Feeling like you were going to die. Until the door opens and Marcus busts in. “Marc!”

Marcus’s finger is over the trigger. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Pike. I’ll blow her pretty head off. I want you to know that I’ve been watching. Listening. All those little promises of the future. Having kids. Getting married. It’s so sweet it’s sickening.” He coos sarcastically. “And now that future is gone.” He says and Marcus shakes his head, “you’ve served your time. You could walk away. Leave her alone.” He counters and Roberta growls, “no! She is the reason I served so long. She’s gonna die.” He promises, pushing the barrel into your head.

You squeeze your eyes shut and then you have to open them. Needing to see Marcus one last time. The idea that this man has been stalking the house, listening to your conversations and plans for the future, listening to you making love, is sickening. “I love you Marcus.” You promise him, watching his eyes slide from Roberta to you. “It’s always been you. Always.”

Marcus feels like he’s gonna be sick. “She hasn’t done anything. She’s been alone for so long. She has suffered enough. You both have.” He lies, “let her go and you won’t be arrested. You can walk free. Start again. I won’t come after you. Just let her go and you are a free man.”

You feel the tension rising in the room. Something is about to happen. Something that will end in the death of one of you. “If it weren’t for her, this bitch, I wouldn’t have gone to jail!” Roberta hisses and you know he won’t walk away. He won’t quit until you are dead. You remember one self defense move that had been taught to you by the Marshal’s office. Playing dead. “I’m sorry.” You tell him, watching his eyes slide from Marcus to you and you let your knees give out and drop to the ground.

Roberta isn’t quick enough and the gun goes off, embedding the bullet in the wall. The next thing you know, Marcus’s team are storming the house and they don’t waste time killing Roberta. His head jerks back as the bullet enters his head. The gun falls to the floor and Marcus is quick to grab it. Marcus pulls out the magazine and empties the chamber, the bullet rattling to the floor. The bullet that could’ve killed you. He reaches for you once Roberta is dead on the floor and he pulls you into his arms. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

You’re shaking. Once the guns started firing, you flinched in anticipation of the killing shot and now you can’t stop shaking. “I- I- I don’t- I don’t know.” You admit truthfully, throwing your arms around him and starting to sob as the reality of what could have happened hits you.

His hands check you over, rubbing your body to see if you’re hurt and when he doesn’t see any damage, he’s pulling you back into his arms, kissing your forehead. The team wants you out, into the van and away so they can check Marcus’s home. “We are going to a safe house for a couple of nights. The team will check the house for any bugs or anything I didn’t pick up on. And clean it up for us.” Marcus explains once you are on the way.

“I didn’t go out.” You stress, almost desperate for him to believe you. “I didn’t call anyone and tell them where I was. No one.” You cling to him, unable to let him go as you try to calm yourself down. “I promise, I didn’t.”

Marcus shakes his head, “it’s not your fault baby. These people…they have ways of finding out where you are. It’s not your fault.” He promises, “he found you and now he’s dead. It’s over. You can reinstate your identity.” He tells you, “you can be you again.”

“I can be me.” You whisper softly, eyes wide when you realize that it’s truly over. After fifteen years, you are finally free. “Oh my God.” Happy tears fall down your cheek and you start to giggle.

Marcus grins, relieved for you and happy after knowing everything you’ve been through. “I love you so much.” He murmurs, caressing your cheeks, “you can see your parents. You can - you’re free.”

“Marry me.” You beg quietly. “As soon as I am legally myself, I want to be Mrs. Marcus Pike.”

Marcus’s eyes widen and he nods, “yes. Yes. God - baby - as soon as we are able to, I wanna marry you.” He promises, leaning in to kiss you softly, his thumbs wiping away your tears.

You smile, unable to believe that your life has taken such an incredible turn. Your future had been changed by a madman, forced into hiding and completely altering your path. Somehow brought back to Marcus by complete coincidence and now, you are able to take your life back and spend it with Marcus.

****

“I now pronounce you, husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.” The officiant declares and Marcus surges forward to kiss your lips, his hands tenderly cupping your cheeks. The crowd cheers, made up of your parents, his parents, and the friends you have made together since Roberta was killed and the ones from college who were shocked to see you after you made your official appearance back in the world. It’s been a long journey, fifteen years in the making, but you and Marcus are finally where you were meant to be all along. Married and in love. Next thing on the agenda? Getting you pregnant.

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mxndoscyarika · 1 month

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I hope you find someone who randomly pulls you in closer late at night and won’t let go of you long after the hug is over and who just genuinely shows you that you’re all they really want in this world

287K notes · View notes

mxndoscyarika · 1 month

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The Plan [Marcus Pike x f!reader]

Read on Ao3

Rating: Explicit

Fandom: The Mentalist

Pairing: Marcus Pike x you/cishet f!reader. Reader is fat/overweight but this is never explicitly mentioned. Also, reader is a lawyer. (I know nothing about lawyering.)

Tags/Warnings: Sad Marcus, alcohol mention, one night stands, fellatio mention, neighbours with benefits, safe sex, squirting, cunnilingus, reader has a difficult relationship with her family, mad dash through the airport at Christmas, trauma dumping (Marcus coming clean about his disappointment after Lisbon dumped him).

Summary: A drunken one night stand with your cute new neighbour Marcus Pike eventually leads to more. Takes place after his story arc in the show.

Words: 7,895

A/N: My first Marcus Pike fic, and also I finished a goddamn fic! There is so much cause for celebration here, folks. Remember to comment and reblog: sharing is caring.

Shout-out to @missredherring and @pazizz who read drafts and helped me forward with this story <3

Marcus Pike does not have a bitter disposition. He does not sulk, or harbor resentment. It's just not in his nature.

Until now.

There is just something so unforgivable, incomprehensible, wrong about the way Teresa Lisbon left him. She called him to say she was coming to D.C., that she would marry him, and two hours later she called again to inform him that she wasn't. That she was in love with Patrick Jane. That asshole.

Marcus has been divorced, and not even that made him spiral as hard as the breakup from Teresa. It just hit harder, because he had fallen so hard for her, for the way she dipped her gaze and chin when a smile broke out on her lips, before looking back up at him with those pretty eyes of hers. He fell for her sense of humor, her intelligence, the way it was so easy to be with her. And he really thought that she fell for him in the same way. Maybe she did - but Jane was there, in the background, confusing her, wooing her with one last big, desperate gesture. If Marcus had known that all it took to keep Teresa was to get himself arrested, he would've done that instead of bringing her takeout at work, making her morning coffee just as she liked it, loaning her his jacket when she was cold during that date, all the thousands of little things that he did for her, that he loved doing for her because he loved her so much that doing those things weren't a chore, they weren't planned, they were an honest, spontaneous expression of his feelings for her.

And then, one big, desperate gesture that rendered Marcus's all small, everyday gestures moot. And it pisses him off.

Practicality kicked in as a form of survival. He quickly cancelled the purchase of the house he had Teresa had picked out, found a condo instead, moved in with his things, and threw himself into his work. Most of the boxes were left unpacked. His place didn't feel like a home because he couldn't let it. He was supposed to share one with Teresa, and now there was just him, surrounded by moving boxes that he had to deal with but couldn't, wouldn't. What should've been a house for the two of them - maybe more in the future? - with a little garden, walls impregnated with love and excitement for a life together, sunlight through the window during long weekend mornings of slow breakfasts, putting up Christmas decorations together, all those things that he was looking forward to. Now he has a bachelor pad, in a fancy apartment building with a doorman, but a sad bachelor pad all the same. The furniture is more or less where it should be, but he hasn't bothered to plan that much. The kitchen table is too big, but he's not in any condition to sell it off and buy a new one. The bookcases are half full, and his artwork is still unhung. He really tried there, but the first painting he got his hands on was one that he had seen before him in the spacious yet cozy living-room in That House, with the fireplace, and suddenly no wall in his apartment was good enough. So he put the painting away, and the rest were left packed down.

He even started going out after work, when he couldn't stay any longer but didn't want to go home. He found a watering hole to his liking, and became a regular, nursing one whiskey after another until he could go home and fall into bed for a deep, dreamless sleep.

It's after one of those nights that he finds you, his neighbor, trying to open his front door with your key. Your clumsy yet meticulous movements tell him that you're intoxicated, and there is something endearing about the way you're frowning, the tip of your tongue sticking out the side of your mouth as you focus on sticking in the key that doesn't fit.

When Marcus comes closer, you notice him, and look up. Quickly registering that it's the workaholic neighbor that you rarely see, you just nod, and go back to trying to open the door.

"That's my door," he says, and you look up again.

"What's that?"

"That's my door. You're trying to get into my apartment."

You frown, your hand holding the key falling to your side as you process his words. You then squint at the number of the door, taking a few seconds to realize that this is, indeed, not your front door.

"Oops," you mutter, then grimace apologetically at your neighbor. "Well, this isn't embarrassing at all."

"Don't worry about it," he shrugs, fishing his own key from his pocket. You step to the side to give him access to the door, and when he stands right next to you, you can smell his cologne, sophisticated and with a hint of bergamot.

He eyes you, just as drunk as you are.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, sure. Late night. You?"

"Same." He looks so tired when he says it, but you can tell that there is a dimple aching to appear in his cheek. His face, bleary though it is, is handsome, and looks like it was made for smiling.

"What is it you do again?" you ask. You've exchanged pleasantries with him when he first moved in, but you never had the time or mental capacity to actually remember who he is.

"FBI, I investigate art theft."

"Ah, right." Yeah, that's it, something so unusual and random that one couldn't make it up. Then again, D.C. is full of people who do stuff you only hear about in movies.

"Marcus," he offers his hand, and you take it, and give him your name.

"And what is it that you do?"

"Law. I work with government contracts and related investigations at a law firm here in D.C."

"Sounds complicated."

You shrug. "I'm smart enough."

"You look good, too."

You scoff. "Are you coming on to me?"

"I'm trying." Now the smile breaks through, lighting up his whole face. Gods, but he's cute.

"Okay." You make the decision quickly, nodding at his door. "Looks like I picked the right door, after all."

Marcus unlocks the door and opens it for you.

His head is pounding, and his mouth is dry when he wakes up. For a moment, he doesn't know what day it is, what he's supposed to do, or what happened last night, but then the flashbacks start to put things together. The flirty neighbor. Her naked skin. Her alcohol-fuming kisses.

He turns his head and sees you, still asleep next to him. Oh, okay.

Sitting up slowly, he gets his bearings before swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. Clothes are strewn over the floor. Right next to the bed is a used condom, tied up and looking sad and abandoned. Okay, good, at least he remembered to use protection. He picks it up and takes it to the bathroom, where he disposes of it before washing his hands and face.

He hears the rustle of bedsheets, and returns to the bedroom, realizing that he's naked. You might not want to be greeted by a naked stranger first thing. Looking around for his underwear, he's nevertheless too slow in finding them: you're already sitting up and rubbing your forehead.

He clears his throat. "Good morning."

Your smile is a little lopsided. "Morning."

"You want breakfast?" Marcus immediately offers, wanting to do the gentlemanly thing before he sends you off so that he can take about ten aspirins, and go to work. "And I'll put out a clean towel for you so that you can use the shower."

"Appreciate it, but I live right next door," you point out as you get out of bed. You're as naked as he is, and Marcus tries very hard not to ogle your body for what he suspects will be the last time.

"I don't mind."

"Thanks, but I have to get to work." You pick up and put on your panties, bra, skirt, shirt. Marcus spots his boxer briefs, and pulls them on.

"Okay, well... I had a good time."

"I did too."

Now you're standing right in front of him, buttoning up your silk shirt. Even with your makeup smudged out, and terrible morning breath, you look really nice.

"I gotta ask you something, though, because my memory is a little... hazy." Your cheekbones seem to glow, and he realizes that you're blushing.

"Yeah?"

"I sucked your dick, didn't I?"

Marcus feels the heat rise to his ears. "Um... well... yes, you did."

"Well?"

"What?"

"Did I do it well?"

"I think so."

You grin at him. "You don't remember much either, do you?"

"It was all consensual, if that's what you're asking."

"Oh, I have no doubt about that." You surprise him by placing your hand on his naked chest. His heart skips a beat, and he hopes that you won't notice.

"I really have to go, but maybe I'll see you again soon?" you ask softly, and Marcus finds himself relaxing.

"I'd like that."

You even kiss him good-bye, a quick, closed-mouth peck to keep morning breaths from mixing, before you grab your shoes, your purse (muttering under your breath about several emails, and two missed calls), and head over next door.

Marcus, still only wearing his underwear, looks thoughtfully at the closed door for a long while before going into the kitchen with the too big table to make coffee.

Work occupies most of your waking hours, six days a week, often seven. You don't see Marcus again for weeks, don't hear any sounds from his apartment during the hours you're home and awake. Barely having time to think about him, your thoughts nevertheless stray to him when you're standing in the shower or going to bed at night. You haven't been able to fit a boyfriend into your life in a long time, and casual hook-ups have rarely left you satisfied, but even with your hazy memories of the night with Marcus, you left his apartment that morning with a feeling that it was good. So that's where your thoughts go when you touch yourself, the few times you have the energy to do so.

One Friday night, after a long but satisfying week that ended with a contract being accepted as it was, which meant you could have a weekend with only a couple of hours of work from home, you're hurrying home with Chinese takeout in a bag. Looking forward to a quiet night in front of the TV, with an early morning at the gym the following day, you run into Marcus on your way into your apartment building.

"Hi," you smile, immediately noticing how he seems to square his shoulders when he sees you. "Going out?"

"Yeah," he nods, moving his weight from one foot to the other as he takes in your food bag. "And you're staying in?"

"Finally, a Friday night without work," you acknowledge. Marcus's smile lets you know that he knows about that all too well.

"Enjoy."

"You too, you going somewhere nice?"

"No, I mean... I'm just going by myself."

There is something so despondent about the way he averts his eyes when confessing to going out alone. You're not in a position to start saving people, but you see an opening here.

"Join me for dinner instead, Marcus."

"I don't want to bother you."

"It's no bother," you shake your head, now moving towards the elevator while beckoning him to follow you. "Come on, before the food gets cold. There's enough here for two, I always buy extra."

He hesitates for only a split second, you can see it in how his body seems to pull him away, out to some sad bar with too much to drink. Instead, he nods, smiles softly, and follows you. He insists on bringing a bottle of wine from his place, and you accept.

You find out more about him that night, as you share your takeout with him, and he shares his wine. He tells you of heartache, only summarily, clearly not wanting you to feel sorry for him, but you can tell that he's been torn up about the "amicable" break-up. He also mentions that he's been married, and you wonder what's wrong with him. He seems perfectly nice and normal, why hasn't he been able to keep a woman? To his credit, he never complains about nice guys finishing last, only states that maybe he's meant to focus on his career.

"There's a lot to be said about having a good career," you agree. Marcus sips his wine with a small smile.

"Work doesn't break your heart."

"That, too."

"I take it you don't have a partner who'll suddenly come home to find me in his kitchen?" he jokes lightly, but you recognize the question for what it is: he wants to know if you're Seeing Anyone.

"Not one for relationships," you shrug.

"You don't long for anyone to snuggle up with in front of the TV on a Friday night?"

"I don't have time. And they never seem to understand that. Or they're working, too." You pick at the scraps in your takeout box with the chopsticks. "And I seem to attract douchebags. Dunno if it comes with the field in which I work. I always seem to go out with terrible lawyer guys."

Marcus chuckles. "Their loss."

"I miss having sex, though." You look him in the eye, and his tongue slides over his lower lip, catching some runaway sauce.

"Yeah?"

You nod, and feel your cheeks heat up. You're a no-nonsense person, but not always this forward with men. But it's easy with Marcus. He takes it all in stride, doesn't seem to think you're aggressive, or slutty, he just smiles and tells you that he misses sex too.

"But what we had was okay, though?" he adds. "Even if neither one of us seems to remember it that well."

"It was," you agree, raising the glass to your lips and draining the rest of the wine. After putting it back down, you tilt your head and bite your lower lip.

"You wanna do it again? Now that we're sober and all?"

"I'm a little tipsy," he warns you with a chuckle, "But I'm in."

Both of you get up at the same time, chairs scraping the floor simultaneously in the kitchen that mirrors his own but has a table that fits it. All of your apartment just fits in a way his half-assed dwelling doesn't. He realizes that it's because your apartment is a home, decorated and lived-in, warm colors and fabrics, Scandinavian wallpapers in bold but tasteful patterns that he himself would never consider but that feel right here.

You step up to him, snugly fitting yourself to his frame, and place your hands on his narrow hips as you kiss him. The two glasses of wine that you've had have laid a warm, cozy blanket over your busy mind, and now you're fully focused on Marcus, whose soft, plump lips are meeting yours as his arms go around your waist.

You make your way to the bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes as you kiss and get undressed, get undressed and kiss. The bed in unmade, you just threw the covers to the side when you got up this morning. Wearing only your underwear, you lay down, pull Marcus over you, rake your fingers through his hair, moan when he palms your plump tits through the bra.

"Tell me what you like," he asks you hoarsely. You hum when he scatters kisses along the lace trim of your bra.

"That's a good start."

He hums back as he pops your tits out of your bra and lick around the nipples.

"Go on," he asks, and a shiver runs down your spine at the low barytone of his voice. You reach around to unhook your bra, and Marcus takes it off you and flings it to the side before burying his face between your breasts.

"You eat pussy?" you ask him breathlessly, and he looks up at you.

"Of course."

"Not everybody does," you wink, and he shakes his head.

"Their loss."

He's in a hurry, you note, but it's endearing in an unexpected way. When he pulls down your panties and gets settled, your legs over his shoulders, you remember to give him a warning.

"I, uh, I don't orgasm from oral, just so you know."

"Really?" His breath is hot against your folds, but he's looking up at you with attentive eyes.

"Yeah. It's not a comment on your skills, I just need you to know it," you shrug, accustomed to always having to tread carefully around the matter. Too many men get offended or take it as a challenge.

"Thanks for telling me," Marcus smiles in a way that's way too innocent and adorable for a man who's got his face inches away from your pussy. "But do you really want me to...?"

"Oh God, yes!" you reassure him. "I enjoy it a lot, and it gets me wet. I just can't cum, I need vaginal stimulation for that."

"You got it," he pats your thigh lightly before his tongue connects with your folds, and your eyes fall shut as you hand yourself over to the pleasure, to Marcus's deftly dancing tongue. He's good, he's attentive and eager, yet you don't get the feeling that he's trying to prove you wrong, to make you orgasm. Lord knows men have tries that in the past, and it's just stressful. No, he just seems to enjoy your moans, the way you writhe and grab his hands, the twitches of your pelvis when he does something extraordinary.

"Goddddd, Marcus, that's so fucking good..." you wail when he alternates between sucking your clit and licking it with a quick tongue. He's getting louder, sloppier, and you know you're dripping. Your clit is throbbing, and you know this is the perfect time to speed things up. You push him away, your thighs closing around his head, and Marcus retreats, chin glistening as he licks his lips.

"You okay?" he wants to know. You nod, breathless and with a pounding heart.

"Need to fuck you."

He scrambles up for a deep kiss, wet and lewd, before you push him over to get a condom from your nightstand. He drapes himself over you as you stretch across the bed, and peppers your back with kisses, like he's unable to stay away from you. You roll around, finding yourself caged between his strong arms, and you pull him down for more kissing with lips swollen and dry but still wanting more.

"How do you want me?" he gasps between the kisses as you pull down his underwear and paw at his small butt.

"Can I be on top?"

He rolls over onto his back immediately, watching you with open-mouth excitement when you remove his shorts and put on the rubber. When you finally sink down on his length, his fingers dig into your thighs as his breath hitches.

"Oh, that feels good..."

"Uh-huh," you sigh, staying still for a moment to adjust to his cock inside of you. You smile inwardly as you find yourself thinking about just how perfectly sized it is: thick but not too long.

"What?"

Your eyes open to find Marcus grinning at you.

"What what?" you grin back. He caresses your hips slowly.

"You looked like you had something to say."

"I was just thinking about what a perfect, gorgeous dick you have."

His cheeks turn pink. "Thank you. It came with the body."

You chuckle and start a slow grind, hips moving lazily back and forth as you seek out the right spots, the right rhythm. Finding it, you plant your hands on Marcus's chest and let out a low moan as you go slightly faster.

"That right for you?" he huffs, sitting up to catch a nipple in his mouth.

"Mmmfuckyes..."

You drop your hand to where your bodies meet, fingers seeking out your clit. Pleasure zaps through your body when you rub it, and you clench tightly around Marcus, causing him to dig his fingers into the soft flesh of your hips, both of you groaning.

"So good," he gripes, soothing the sting of his fingertips by rubbing his palms over the affected areas before he moves his fingers to your front. "Need a hand?"

"'m good," you gasp, your free arm slinging around his neck. You clench around him again, and Marcus's hips jut upwards, slamming into you with a force that makes you choke.

"Fuck! God, Marcus, that was..."

"Can we try something?" he pants, pulling you in for a kiss. "Please?"

"Okay?" you frown, a little frustrated at being interrupted, but Marcus gestures for you to rise, so you do as he asks, and let him pull you down with him.

"Get on top of me again, but lie down," he instructs you. You must look doubtful because he immediately adds:

"Just try it, if you don't like it, we can go back to what you were doing."

"I'll try anything once," you shrug, and get on top of him again, this time with your back turned to him. Marcus pulls you down, positioning you on top of him, legs spread, his own legs on the outside of yours. You hesitate for a second, the reality of your weight sometimes haunting your mind, but Marcus insists.

"Just come here, baby," he tells you softly, so you let him take your weight. One of his arms sneaks up the side of your ribcage to cup a breast. With the other, he guides himself into you, pushing himself in with an upward thrust of his hips. You choke on your breath and let your head hang back on his shoulder, one arm seeking a position to support you, the other coming around Marcus's neck when he presses a toothy kiss to your neck. He thrusts into you again, fingers playing with your nipple, and then his other hand comes to rub your clit.

You keen at the sudden intensity, back arching on top of him, and he plants his feet more firmly on the mattress.

"Fuck," you gasp, "that's good, Marcus, this is good..."

He sucks a kiss to your neck, his teeth stinging just a little, and your legs kick in search of a hold so that you can stay just above him. He slips out, and you whimper.

"Relax," he soothes you, thumb abandoning your clit to instead guide himself back into you. "Put your weight on me, I can take it."

You follow his instructions, back sinking down onto his chest and stomach, pelvis angling slightly to help him stay inside you. His fingers return to tease your clit, and your head falls back onto his shoulder as he settles into a rhythm that makes your toes curl.

"That's it," he praises you, his breath hot against your ear. "Just like that, take it, just enjoy it, let me take care of you."

The slow drag of his cock against your slick walls is maddening in how it pushes at your spot but leaves you wanting more. You buck your hips down eagerly.

"Faster, please, Marcus."

He obeys immediately, moaning at how you immediately clench around him. Your fingers thread through his hair, the other hand fists into the sheets. The pressure on that one spot inside you is growing in intensity, insanely, perfectly, knocking your breath out with each jab of Marcus's cock against it. Your moans become whimpers, a moan too complex a sound for you at this point, when you are so close, so utterly close to the climax that you now need as much as you need air -

The release floods your body and your cunt, and for a split second you're horrified at the wet feeling on your thighs, the rippling sound, until you realize that you squirted. A half moan, half giggle escapes you as you press your thighs together as if to lock in the orgasm that pulsates through your cunt and lower belly. Marcus gasps an excited Fuck, yes before bucking up a couple of errant times, and then relaxing down. He kisses your temple, drags his soaked fingers up over your soft belly, making you squirm.

"Sorry," he murmurs throatily. You murmur something back and slide down next to him. Everything between your legs seems wet and now cold, but you're still prickling all over with excitement.

Marcus heaves a deep sigh before turning his face to you. "That was so hot."

"I didn't know I could do that with a man."

"You haven't before?"

You shake your head. Marcus smiles softly.

"I'm honored. Was it good?"

"Yeah. How about you?"

"So fucking good."

You smile back at him before turning your face back towards the ceiling, and taking a deep breath that you sigh out audibly. Your body relaxes quickly, a muscle in your lower back mutters about the position you just were in, but you feel extremely good, and wrung out in a fantastic way. In the corner of your eye, you catch Marcus taking the condom off, before getting up to take it to the trash. When he returns, he looks around, looking for his clothes. You roll over onto your side.

"You don't have to leave, you know," you tell him quietly. Marcus stops, boxers in hand.

"Yeah?"

"I mean... don't get me wrong, I'm not looking for a relationship," you hurry to assure him. "But I wouldn't mind you staying over. Unless you have plans?"

"I don't."

He drops the boxers, and slides back into bed, next to you. You smile a little wryly.

"The sheets are wet. I'll change them, feel free to grab a shower.

"Soon," Marcus tells you, low voice heavy with a calm confidence. "I suggest we wet them a little more first."

Your deal with Marcus is simple and beautiful: sex, with or without staying the night. The occasional take-out dinner. Quickies when you run into each other in the corridor outside your front doors, with ten minutes to spare. It's undemanding, friendly, mutually satisfying. Uncomplicated, with no romantic feelings involved, so nobody can get hurt.

Marcus is an active lover who smoothly takes charge. Not bossy, but firm and empathic, and not afraid of using aids of different kinds to raise your orgasms to the next level. He's not opposed to fucking you fully clothed in the morning and leaving you wanting as you go to work with his cold cum in your panties, shot there after he removed the rubber after fucking you.

It is, in short, the perfect set-up.

Fall passes by, and you see yourself forced to fly out to see your family over Thanksgiving. You spend as much time as you can working in your childhood room, however. Your parents do not understand your choice of profession, your mother does not see how a woman of your age has chosen to be childless. Your older brother knocked his girlfriend up at sixteen, your younger sister was married at eighteen and divorced at twenty-eight. You love them, but you don't have a lot in common with them, and even if your siblings at least pretend to understand your life choices, their contempt steeped in jealousy of your life shines through at times. Your parents choose to simply ignore the life you have built for yourself in D.C., talking instead about Mrs. McCall next door, Annie down the street, Cybil in town, Kearney at the gas station, as if you knew any of them or cared about what they said about Kayleigh's twins.

You endure for two nights, and text Marcus from the airport, before boarding: I'll be home after nine tonight. You free?

He replies almost immediately: I'll pick you up at the airport.

You text him the flight number before turning off your phone, settling for a three-hour nap in lieu of working.

When you finally land, puffy-faced but breathing freely now that you're back in the city you call home, Marcus is waiting for you in arrivals. The way his smile lights up his eyes when he sees you makes your heart miss a beat. There is something there that's beyond what the two of you have, something much more sincere.

You shake it off and smile back as you walk up to him. He leans forward, like he's about to kiss you, but ends up giving you an awkward half-hug.

"Welcome home."

"Thanks. And thank you for picking me up."

"My pleasure."

The two of you turn and start walking towards the exit. Marcus offers to take your carry-on wheelie bag, but you decline, accustomed as you are to carrying your own luggage yourself.

In the car, he asks you how your Thanksgiving was.

"As holidays at my parents' usually are. One night would've been enough."

"That bad, huh?"

"Yeah. It's just..." You rub your forehead. "Whenever I visit, I feel trapped. Everything back home is... small. People are kind, yes, but they're small-minded. The town is small. The spaces in which to move, physically and mentally, are small. And I feel like some kind of big city snob who comes to visit twice a year, scoffs at their very ordinary and, as far as I know, happy lives, and then flies back to my vegan frappuccinos and twenty-four-hour sushi restaurants."

Marcus chuckles low. "I think I know what you mean. But it's hard for me to imagine that you'd be a snob about anything."

"I probably am. But I... I don't know, I outgrew that town when I was fifteen. Couldn't get out fast enough. And I don't like going back."

"Does your family support your choices?"

You shrug. "Yes and no. Mom and dad are proud, I guess, but at the same time they don't have any idea what it is that I do. 'If you wanted to be a lawyer, couldn't you be one here? Where it's not as stressful and you could start a family, and work normal hours?' As if I could practice the law I'm interested in over there."

"What's the most common type of lawyer in your hometown?"

"General practitioners who do a little bit of everything, wills mostly. And there are three, I think."

"Wow."

"Exactly."

The conversation turns to other subjects as Marcus drives the two of you to your apartment building. As he parks in his spot in the underground garage, you place your hand onto his thigh. He turns off the engine and looks at you.

"Thanks for picking me up," you tell him quietly. His hand comes to rest on top of yours.

"No problem."

"You have any plans for tonight?"

He shakes his head, then leans forward over the middle console as you reach across the same for a kiss. His fingers thread into your hair before closing around the back of your head to bring you in, and you sigh softly against his lips as you feel the rest of the pressure from your Thanksgiving visit melt away. If the town you grew up in felt unfamiliar and uncomfortable, D.C. and Marcus feel like home. And there's nothing you want to do more now than be with Marcus in this city.

You break the kiss and lower your gaze to his fly, where your fingers are already working on unzipping him. Marcus exhales in an audible sigh.

"You missed me that much?"

"Don't get any ideas," you warn him before bowing down over his lap.

Later, when you are freshly showered, and lying awake in Marcus's bed with him deeply asleep next to you, you wonder when his presence at night became such a comfort for you.

Marcus visits his parents over Christmas. You manage to convince yours that you're way too busy and the holidays too short for you to fly out. Settling in for a couple of days off work, you plan to go to the gym, meet friends, and maybe finally get through that book you started three months ago. You plan for simple yet delicious meals and come home with bags full of groceries and bottles of wine that you balance in your arms as you're digging for the keys in your pocket.

"Lemme get that."

Marcus appears by your side, taking a grocery bag from you.

"Thanks."

You manage to let yourself in, and Marcus follows you to the kitchen, where he leaves the bag on the table.

"Hi," he smiles. There is something so endearing about this man, his smile lights up the whole room, you can't possibly keep from smiling back at him.

"Hi. I thought you already left for the airport?"

"Just on my way now. Glad I caught you."

"Oh?" You unbutton your coat, unwrap the scarf from around your neck. "What's up?"

"Just... I wanted to see you before I left. Wish you happy holidays."

"Right." You take off your coat and leave it over the back of a kitchen chair. "Well... happy holidays, Marcus. I hope you have a nice weekend with your parents."

"Thanks." He clears his throat, looks down and scratches the back of his head. "Do you have any plans for New Year’s Eve?"

"Not that I know of."

"Do you maybe... want to do something?"

"Sure," you nod, a warmth spreading in your belly. "Like, dinner?"

"I was thinking Hirschhorn? You said you were curious about their special exhibit. Then dinner, and maybe a movie, if you're not opposed to spending so much time with me at once?"

You feel your cheeks heat up a little. "I don't mind at all. That sounds lovely."

His smile widens, his warm eyes glitter. "Great. I'll get back to you as soon as I return."

He kisses your cheek before leaving, his hand resting momentarily on your arm. When he closes the door behind him, the apartment feels empty.

That emptiness stays with you over the holidays. You're enjoying the time off, yes, and downright cherish not having to spend time with your family. You were looking forward to Christmas eve drinks with a couple of friends but are disappointed when they only talk about holiday preparations, gift shopping, and visiting in-laws. The detachment makes you annoyed. It's not that you want that kind of life, you don't want kids and a house and Thanksgiving dinners and all of that. But there doesn't seem to be any alternatives. You get the feeling that they feel sorry for you, that they think you should look up from your laptop once in a while, go dating, settle down, maybe work less.

Always work less. You love your job so much, maybe you won’t forever, but right now you do, and it doesn’t feel taxing when it gives you the gratification it does.

You grab a cab home, earlier than you thought and morose for not getting the carefree night you had planned for. Maybe it's your own fault for thinking that people with families wouldn't have changed.

You weigh your phone in your hand for a couple of blocks before texting Marcus.

Hope you're having a better time than I am. Just getting home after drinks, and realized I have nothing in common with my friends anymore :/

You regret the text as soon as you've sent it. It sounds whiny, and you know that you're being unfair to your friends. But Marcus replies almost immediately:

Sorry to hear that. Wish I was there to make you feel better.

You smile, and your heart skips a beat. He always knows what to say.

It is what it is. Early night for me.

He replies with a Santa emoji that makes you chuckle.

Too old for Santa, you type back. Or too naughty. Either way, he's not coming.

Only man who should come in your apartment is me ;)

You stare at the message, cheeks heating as you lick your lips. Your brain scrambles for an answer to match his tone.

I'll be the judge of that, mister. If you're away for too long, I might get lonely.

The reply comes almost immediately.

I'll be back before you know it.

Your heart is fluttering like a butterfly inside your ribcage, and you react with a thumb up to the last message. For the rest of the cab ride, you're chewing on your lower lip while looking out the window, decorated windows racing past you as the cab driver navigates towards your apartment building.

You fall asleep in front of the TV and are awakened by a text.

You up?

You rub your eyes, realize that you're still wearing makeup, and curse low.

It's two am.

Marcus's name immediately lights up on the phone, and you answer the call.

"What's up?"

"Sorry to wake you."

"That's fine, I was on the couch. Gotta schlep my ass to bed," you yawn as you turn off the TV, and stand up, scratching your head.

"I'm outside."

"What?"

"I'm outside your door."

You frown, trying to understand what he's saying. "What are you doing there?"

"Just open?"

Call still active and phone held to your ear, you walk over to the front door, and unlock it. And there Marcus is, holding his phone but lowering his hand and ending the call while smiling wryly at you.

"Hi."

"What... why aren't you at your parents'?" you stutter, still holding the phone like you're talking to him through it.

"Because I can't do this at my parents'." He steps up to you, cups your cheek, and brings his lips to yours. His face is cold, so you understand that he has just arrived from the airport. Your sleep-riddled brain still doesn't understand, and Marcus breaks the kiss, breathing softly against your lips before drawing back.

"Did I... fuck this up now?"

You lick your lips and realize that you're feeling calm and steady in a way you no longer do when he's not around. You grab him by the jacket lapel and pull him in through the door.

"No," you reply, a shiver running through you when he puts his arms around you. "No, you did just the right thing."

You don't use your tub as often as you would like to, yet it was one of the main reasons why you bought your apartment. It's spacious, has gorgeous vintage style brass faucets, and is placed by the window, from which you can see the park, now wearing a white winter coat of snow, on the other side of the street. The shower booth is at the back wall of the bathroom and your busy lifestyle has you favoring quick showers instead of long, luxurious baths.

Now, however, you're stretched out languidly in Marcus's arms, the back of your head on his shoulder, his hairy thighs pressing up against you on either side. The water is hot and scented with oils, and if the orgasms you had before getting out of bed hadn't relaxed you, this would definitely take away the last vestiges of stress knotting your muscles.

"This is a really nice tub," Marcus mumbles into your ear, his hand running up the inside of your arm, resting on the edge of the tub. "Wish I had one."

"You're welcome to use mine," you smile, just as his hand disappears into the water, finding your breast and cupping it, thumb lazily stroking the nipple.

"I like your apartment better anyway," he admits. "Mine doesn't feel like a home."

"That's just because you haven't unpacked."

He raises his shoulders in a shrug. "Been busy."

"Doesn't help much that you're fucking me every time you're off work."

“One could even say it’s your fault I haven’t unpacked,” he muses, lips touching your temple. You shake your head, hand finding his and leading it away from your breast.

“Nuh-uh, you don’t get to pin this on me.” There is no vehemence in your voice, and even if Marcus can’t see your face, he can plainly hear the smile threatening to break out.

“I had to try.”

You bring your hand back to your chest, and sigh when his fingers brush over your nipple. It would be so easy to just let things slide, enjoy his hands, his mouth, his cock that’s resting softly against your lower back… But your interest is piqued.

“Why haven’t you unpacked, Marcus?” you ask quietly. “I’ve seen that you have painting just waiting to be hung on the walls and given how much you like to criticize my dentist’s office artwork from Ikea, I can’t imagine why you haven’t done more to decorate your apartment.”

His hand stills, and you feel him swallow. He clears his throat, sighs, clearly stalling, but you don’t show mercy. You want to know.

“I guess… I thought I’d be making a home with someone. And when that didn’t happen, I didn’t like the idea anymore.”

You braid your fingers with his, the water gently rippling with your movement.

“Your ex?”

“Yeah. Teresa.”

“What happened?” He’s mentioned some tragic breakup but never specified, and you’ve never asked. Now, however, you’re asking. You want this puzzle piece to fit right, want to know everything there is to know about Marcus Pike.

“I don’t want to burden you with that…”

“I want to know, Marcus.”

He hesitates, but eventually tells you how his ex, a smart, beautiful woman that he fell head over heels for and eventually proposed to, accepted his proposal over the phone but called again thirty minutes later to tell him that she was leaving him for a coworker. Marcus had been transferred to D.C., had asked Teresa to come with, had a plan for a life together, and she turned out to be in love with a coworker: a charming, unreliable man who worked out an elaborate scheme to make her choose him instead of Marcus.

You’re shocked to silence when he stops talking, an array of emotions simmering inside you. When Marcus speaks your name, the first one to burst is anger.

“What a cunt!”

Marcus sputters your name, but you don’t feel bad.

“You know I’m right!”

“No need for language like that,” he protests, but you can sense a change in him. It’s like something’s loosened in him. Even if you can’t see his face in this position, you can feel it in how his body feels against yours.

“I’m sorry, but that behavior is despicable. And from what you’ve told me about that asshole that she went with because of you, I’d say they deserve each other.”

He shrugs. “Or maybe I was too pushy. We didn’t date for long before I asked her to marry me. I should’ve given her more time.”

You turn around in his arms so that you can meet his flickering gaze. Raising your hand to his cheek, you caress the slightly scratchy surface that sorely needs a razor.

“If it feels right, it feels right,” you tell him softly. “There’s no shame in being open and honest about your feelings, Marcus.”

He blinks, and for a second you think his eyes look shiny. His lower jaw moves as he swallows.

“Thank you,” he eventually mumbles. “I don’t want to sound like I’m making excuses but… I did feel I was being straight with her. And she… really fucking hurt me.”

“Yeah, she did.”

His stare is suddenly relentless.

“Will you? Hurt me, I mean?”

You feel nothing but calm. “Marcus, I like you a lot. This is more than just sex now. But I won’t marry you in six months, and I don’t need you to have a plan for us. I like my job, I have a good career that I won’t give up. I don’t want kids, but I like being with you, and I want to keep being with you, not just have sex but do other stuff with you.”

He smiles at that and casts his eyes down. You lean forward to press a small kiss to his lips.

“And I will help you to unpack your shit, and I will come with you to get a new kitchen table tomorrow when the stores open. Because that huge monster you have jamming up your kitchen has got to go.”

“Not tomorrow,” he immediately tells you, and you quirk an eyebrow. “Because tomorrow I’m taking you to the museum, out for a meal, and then we’re watching Casablanca.”

You chuckle. “It’s a deal.”

He pulls you in for a deeper kiss, water splashing when his arms go around you.

“For the record,” he murmurs against your lips, “I like you too.”

“That’s a relief,” you smile, before a gasp escapes your lips; Marcus’s hand has slid down your soft stomach to the apex of your thighs, and one finger is slowly circling your clit.

“Open your legs,” he whispers, breath almost scorching your cheek that is already warm from the water and your rising desire. You move around, legs and hips repositioning themselves so that he can cup his big hand over your sex.

“Marcus,” you breathe in a low moan, “I already came twice this morning…”

“And you’ll come a third time,” he promises as he slides a finger inside your warm heat, rolling a nipple between two fingers of his other hand. You curl your arm back and around his neck, seek his lips for more kisses, push down against his hardening cock to make him gasp into your mouth. Thumb on your clit, he adds a second finger to your pussy, fucking you slowly as you exchange moans along with your kisses. Your hips jut upwards when he hits the right spot, and then he stays on it, water splashing over the edges of the tub when he goes increases speed. Your hand dives underneath the surface to find his cock, and a strangled moan travels from Marcus’s mouth to yours when your fingers close around the stiff length. When he slows down, so do you, when he fucks you faster, your hand works him faster.

The climax reaches both of you at the same time, your bodies tightening up, Marcus’s hips jerking up as your thighs clamp shut, cries bouncing off the tiles as you press your bodies together. As silence falls, the water stills and your hearts return to their normal rhythms, and Marcus’s lips are on your temple.

“Fuck, you’re amazing.”

“So are you,” you hum, a ripple of lingering pleasure making your legs twitch. He kisses you again, a light smattering of kisses over your temple, brow, cheekbone, before reaching your mouth. That last kiss is deep and slow, loving, and intimate in a way you haven’t had with him before. It’s unnerving, almost scary, but there is something so comforting about Marcus’s broad-shouldered body underneath you, something that makes you embrace the unknown.

“Happy Christmas, baby.”

The underwhelming meeting with your friends, the flirty texting with Marcus, that feels like weeks ago. But it was only last night, and your world has been thoroughly rocked since then.

“Happy Christmas, Marcus.”

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