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absurdthirst · 7 months

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Kinktober 2023: October 2nd

Day 2: Frottage, Sexual Frustration, Virginity

Marcus Moreno x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: Virginity, loss of virginity, vaginal sex, unprotected sex

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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.

Tonight is probably the most nerve wracking, terror inducing night of your life. The night you are going to give your virginity to the one and only Marcus Moreno.

It’s not like you meant to stay a virgin. It just kind of happened. A combination of high standards and concentrating on your work has led you to be a middle-aged woman with no sexual experience. About to try to take this next step with a man that you not only respect but you are really, really attracted to.

Staring at yourself in the mirror, you take a deep breath. Smoothing down the lines of your lingerie that you had decided was the most appropriate to show that you are ready to do this.

He’s been amazing. The conversation had been hard, breaking down into tears while you confess the dark secret that you’ve been keeping from the man you’ve been dating for three months. He had not judged you, just wrapped his arms around you and assured you that it didn’t matter to him. He would wait until you are ready to do anything.

That, more than anything, told you that this was the man that you wanted to give your virginity to. Or, maybe a better way to put it would be that this man is the one you wanted to experience sex with for the first time.

Now, you feel like you are ready. Every night you spend in his company convinces you that you are eager to take this step. Every lingering kiss, the tension builds, but he still holds back. Ending the make out sessions with one final kiss and then a breathless sigh as he shoves his hand through his hair, shooting you a sheepish grin before he discreetly adjusts the proof of his own desire.

Taking one more breath, you turn and slip out of the bathroom. Turning off the light and finding Marcus waiting on the bed for you. His own nerves are not on display as he turns towards you. Eyes widening behind his glasses as he stands up. “Wow.”

The breathed out awe in that one word soothes you, making you smile and giggle slightly as you pop your hip out to pose for him. “You like this?” You ask, watching as he takes off his glasses and closes them to put on the dresser before he steps closer to you.

“Yeah.” He nods and licks his lips and slowly reaches for you so you have a chance to back away if you want. You don’t want to back away, you want to press closer.

“Marcus…” You bite your lip and your heart is pounding in your chest. Nerves fluttering and churning in your stomach. “I- I want this.” You had talked about this at dinner, but you feel the need to make sure that he knows that you really do want this.

“Are you sure?” In front of you is a superhero. A man who has saved the world countless times, has powers that you cannot even match. Yet, right now, all his attention is on you. His warm eyes darkened with desire, and you feel the way that his grip tightens on you. Still, despite his own needs, he’s making sure that you have a choice.

“I’m sure.” You nod, fingers curling into the shirt on his arms. “I’m really sure.”

Once he’s given permission, Marcus instantly becomes the lover that you’ve always dreamed of when you secretly read those romance novels. His touch is worshipful as he starts to slowly caress you, his mouth kissing yours over and over again before he starts to trail kisses down your neck.

Never moving too fast to overwhelm you, he keeps you yearning for more, every perfectly placed touch meant to keep you on edge for him. Your breathing heavy and your thoughts completely turned to mush by every calloused pass of his hands on your skin.

Marcus hums as he lays you down on the bed, one knee between yours. Hands gentle as he starts to peel you out of the lingerie. Groaning and dropping feather light kisses on the skin that he exposes. Making you feel like a princess, or a goddess as he makes every doubt about yourself fade into the warmth of his presence.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” He groans, his cock twitching in his pants as he looks down at you.

Squirming under the weight of his gaze, you don’t feel like a virgin, you feel like a vixen. A seductress that could tempt any mere man and make them fall at your feet. “You’re gorgeous, Marcus.” You pant quietly. “I need more.”

Being the glorious man that he is, Marcus knows exactly what you need. His fingers sliding through your folds and starting to rub your clit in slow, tight circles. Your eyes roll back and your moan is embarrassingly loud. Not that he seems to mind, his groan matching yours when his lips descend on yours again.

You had already told him that you didn’t want him to go down on you. Too embarrassed or scared of what he might think when he’s face to face with your pussy. It’s not like you’ve ever had that done to you before, and you know that you are nervous enough about letting this man’s large cock inside you. You know it’s large, you’ve felt it pressed against you when your make out sessions got a little steamy.

“I’m going to make you cum just like this, baby.” Marcus’s voice is like honey whiskey. Rough and smooth as he coos at you. “Just relax and let me take care of you.”

It’s hard to give over control, but you know you are in good hands. Those hands, the same ones on you right now, have literally held the fate of the world in them. You think you can trust that he will do right by you. Your eyes are closed, lips curled up in a slight smile. Missing the way that his own eyes narrow slightly in concentration. Wanting to make tonight perfect for you.

“Marc.” Your whine is breathless, body trembling under his touch as you start to creep closer to the edge. “Oh, oh god.” It’s the first of many times that you will cry out in pleasure.

“That’s it, baby.” He murmurs, his lips pressing against your pulse to feel it pound under them. “You need to cum, so I can make sure you enjoy when I’m inside you.”

Those words throw you over the edge. The pleasure bursting in a sharp kaleidoscope of heat, flooding your body in waves. “Marc!”

Marcus groans, cock twitching and throbbing in his pants. He hadn’t pushed his fingers inside you, but you would be so tight and wet right now. Slowing down the circles of his fingers as your hips chase the pleasure he is bringing you.

Coming down from the utter bliss is soft, slow. Slow enough that you don’t even realize that you lose contact with Marcus for a moment. The shuffling of clothes not even registering until he’s back in your arms. His hot skin pressed against yours and immediately firing all new sorts of sensations and shivers.

His kisses are tender, reassuring you as he starts to settle between your thighs, the long length of him pressing against your clit and making you gasp into his mouth. Swallowing them down for you and rocking his hips forward, making you want to wrap your legs around him.

The moment he slips inside you, time ceases to exist. Everything stops, even your heart as he slowly pushes in. Filling you, stretching you beyond anything that you imagined in your wildest dreams. Letting you cling to him as he kisses you and pets your hair, murmuring praises.

He moves slowly, letting you feel every inch, every ridge and vein as he pulls and pushes inside your slick walls. Every roll of his hips pulls another sensation, another moan out of you. Working your body back up slowly, but just as steadily as before.

The weight of him is magnificent. The crease of his brow as he hovers over you. The flex of his arms as he keeps his full weight off of you. Totally focused on you and how this is making you feel. Every moan listened to, responded to. When you gasp, he’s making sure that it’s in pleasure and not discomfort.

Your orgasm takes you by surprise, sure that you wouldn’t be able to cum from sex alone, but he had taken his time to make sure you weren’t falling behind. Grinding his hips just perfectly to hit the right angle inside you. His cock pressing against something amazing.

His own pleasure follows right behind yours. Obviously holding himself back to make sure you had cum before he gives into his own needs. Groaning out your name is the sexiest thing that you’ve ever heard in your life and even though you are panting, breathless, you can’t help but stroke his chest and his cheeks as he rides out his pleasure.

“How was it?” Marcus asks after he’s cleaned you up and you are cuddled into his chest. His fingers stroking your arm as the softness of the moment isn’t lost on you. You feel amazing, tired, but energetic all at the same time.

“It was amazing.” Turning your kiss his chin and smile when he looks down at you. “Thank you for making my first time special.” You whisper quietly.

“My pleasure, sweetheart.” Marcus assures you, licking his lip and leaning in for another kiss. “My absolute pleasure.”

Marcus Moreno took your virginity, and made it a perfect night for you. Ever the superhero.

#pedro pascal #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #absurdthirst kinktober #marcus moreno #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno x you #marcus moreno x f!reader #marcus moreno smut #marcus moreno fanfiction #we can be heroes

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pedrohub · 1 year

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PEDRO PASCAL as MARCUS MORENO WE CAN BE HEROES (2020), dir. Robert Rodriguez

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wardenparker · 1 year

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What Happens in Vegas, part 1

Marcus Moreno x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 8k Warnings: Mentions of partner death and divorce, smatterings of imagery of drunk sex. Technically most of this could be considered dubcon for drunkenness. Summary: A high school reunion in Las Vegas sounds great right? A fun, adult way to catch up with old friends and have a great party in the process. But everything goes a little sideways when you wake up the next morning in bed with someone unexpected. Notes: Part one of two! Marcus Moreno was absolutely a drama geek in high school and I will not be taking criticism.

Your eyes shoot open, and you sit straight up in bed. A mistake if there ever was one. Pain starbursts behind your eyes and you immediately pinch them shut again with a hiss. Shuffling slightly to cradle your pounding head, you moan as you hunch over. Not remembering much past the night before and having no clue on how you ended up in a bed. There's a grunt beside you, making your eyes shoot open again, but this time you don't try to resist the pain. You had definitely not come to your reunion with someone, so the idea of someone else in your bed is terrifying at best. One-night stands and being surprised by your bedmate the next morning had died in college during your walk of shame days. He's turned towards you, eyes closed, and face relaxed in sleep. One that you would have known anywhere, even if you hadn't tried keeping up with him through the years. You realize your own nakedness when you see his bare chest, gasping and yanking the sheets up over your breasts.

You’re in bed with your high school sweetheart, Marcus Moreno.

That place between sleep and awake is Marcus's favourite. It holds no worries and beautified reality, making touches feel like floating and sounds muffle as though they were coming through a wall of fluffy blankets. There is warmth beside him and beating down from his other side, vaguely registering in his sleepy mind as warm morning sun. He would have wafted through this half-feeling until he fell back to sleep, but he felt a jolt beside him and heard a yelping sound. Those were definitely not things from his dreams. Nor was the instant pounding that took over his head, making the previously comfortable sun feel like a jackhammer instead.

Marcus groans, rubbing his eyes as he gropes around for his glasses and slowly starts to string thoughts together: a bed, with someone else in it, in the morning, and he definitely has a hangover. He groans again, pained this time, and wonders what the hell he had gotten himself into. Vegas is a hell of a place to wake up with someone he doesn't know, and he briefly wonders if he had done something stupid last night. Once his glasses are shoved on his face and he can unglue his eyelids, he forces himself to look over.

Oh shit. It’s you. His high school sweetheart. What the hell happened last night??

"Mar– Marcus?" You stammer, your eyes widening, and you do an internal assessment of your body. Oh, you had definitely had sex. The ache between your legs is one that you hadn't experienced in a while but is consistent with a very vigorous night. You pull your hands down from your head and twist to look at him, hating that you don't remember what the hell had happened. The last thing you remembered was the slideshow at the event center. Nostalgia rampant and the bar open, while the graduating class went through the Most Like To list. Seeing everyone and sharing drinks had apparently caught up with you. "What happened?"

It's not until he sees you gripping the sheets to your body that he looks down – and realizes he's completely naked. Letting out a yelp of his own, Marcus pulls the comforter around him and then immediately cradles his aching head. The more conscious he gets, the worse it hurts. "Um..." Think, Moreno, think! But thinking hurts so much. "I'm not sure." He confesses. "I mean...we, uh..." his eyes are wide, looking between the two of you with embarrassed guilt. His core and thighs burn a little, and there is a faint taste of something tangy in his mouth along with stale beer. "I think we..." He sighs. "We definitely had sex..."

You hate how his sleep rough voice affects you. Low and gravely, it makes your core clench, and you feel the remnants of that observation between your thighs, sticky and thick. "Yeah, uh – I agree with that." You shouldn't be this embarrassed by that fact. It wasn't like you hadn't had sex with Marcus before. Hell, he was the first person you had sex with in your life. Sixteen and thinking you were going to be with him forever. "I–" Something catches your eye when you go to rub your head again, making you stop and flip your hand over, staring in horror at your left hand. A ring sitting on your ring finger, something that definitely wasn't there before this morning. "Did we– did we get married?" You manage.

"No!" Marcus is absolutely sure that that couldn't have happened, but his throat runs dry all the same. Slowly, he lifts up his own left hand where a shiny gold ring of his own gleams in the sun. "Or...maybe yes?" He tries not to focus on how good you look. Hair mussed and eyes a little droopy from having just woken up. He hasn't seen you like this in almost twenty years. Goddamn you look good. "I'm sorry," his face contorts in embarrassment. "I honestly don't remember much. Just the slide show at the reunion and then...nothing."

"Oh my God." You tug the sheets off of the bed, barely letting Marcus keep himself decent while you jump up. "No, there's no way. I mean, we just–" You close your eyes, taking a deep breath and trying not to freak out. "It's got to be some kind of joke." You remember Susan Combs, now Susan Ramey, talking about how the two of you were single, that you should rekindle the spark. Your eyes meeting Marcus's embarrassed gaze as the two of you stood awkwardly between her. "It's a joke." You tell him firmly, trying to convince yourself of it more than anything. How do you marry someone you haven't seen in nineteen years since he broke up with you when he met the woman he would marry his freshman year in college?

"Definitely." Marcus agrees. It had to be a joke. The thing that definitely wasn't a joke was the strong interest his cock had in the fact that one of the most gorgeous women he'd ever known in his life was standing in front of him wearing only a sheet. Not the time, he thinks to himself sternly. "There's...uh, there's some kind of brunch or something today, right?" He vaguely remembers it on the itinerary for their high school reunion, a chance for everybody to bemoan their hangovers together and say goodbye before people started catching their flights home. "I'm sure whoever's idea this was will be there to lord it over us." He hopes that, anyway. Hopes that it was some dumb joke from one of the other drama club guys or somebody who thought it would be funny to embarrass the hell out of the leader of the Heroics.

He looks around, not quite sure where to begin. "Do you...are my clothes over there?"

You look around and find his clothes mixed with yours on the floor, obviously stripped off together. You ignore that and lean down, tossing him his pants and not noticing that your panties are stuck in one of the pants legs where they had been dragged off your body. "I–fuck, I need a shower." You look at the clock and your eyes widen. "You do too." You hiss, noticing you don't have much time. "We can, I guess we are going to have to share a bathroom." You bite your lip, and try to suppress interest in seeing him as a fully grown man instead of a nineteen-year-old boy.

Marcus blanches for a second, wondering if you mean showering together, but he convinces himself that you can't possibly. This whole thing is too insane to really understand and what he needs most in the world is to wash up and brush his teeth. As much as his body might be interested in finding out how well you've grown up, that would be completely inappropriate given the circumstances. "You take the shower," he offers, ever the gentleman. "I can just wash up quickly and brush my teeth. Stale beer isn't a great taste."

Your face burns, a flash of him looking up at you from in between your legs pops into your mind. “No– uh, there is a shower and a tub, you take the shower and I’ll– we’re both adults and it’s not like we haven’t seen each other naked before.” You reason. You hate how flustered you are, how intensely you just want to go back to sleep and pretend this is just a dream. “Or do whatever.” You add, looking towards the other door. “The sooner we figure out this is a joke, the sooner we can pretend it didn’t happen.”

“Right.” He wiggles into his boxers, stuck inside his pants in a way that said they were definitely pulled off together, under the covers and slips out of the bed to head toward the shower. You’re right, of course. This wasn’t the first time you’d seen each other naked, even before whatever happened last night. “S’dumb,” he mumbles. “Somebody decided it would be funny to put rings on us?” Pulling open the bathroom door revealed that this was your hotel room - bottles of sweet smelling soap and shampoo alongside a few bits of makeup and your deodorant and a hairbrush. Looks like he’ll be doing a walk of shame this morning.

Turning on the water for the shower, he turns shy again. You’re right. You’ve seen him naked. There’s no reason to hide from you. But that doesn’t stop him from turning away from you to take off his boxers before drawing back the shower curtain to hop in. He could live with you seeing his bare ass. He didn’t want you knowing he was sporting a semi from the faint memory of having his lips wrapped around your nipples a few hours ago.

You follow him into the bathroom, the sheet from the bed firmly anchored under your arm. Sighing when he closes the curtain behind him. Marcus Moreno. You lean over and turn on the water to the tub and plug the drain. You could admit to yourself that you hoped to catch his eye, if nothing but to show him exactly what he could have had if he hadn’t dumped you. Petty, you know, but still with the vindictiveness of someone scorned.

Not that he had been mean to you about it. No, Marcus had been distraught, admitting that he was falling for the girl in his Psych class when he had come home for fall break. The one that he would go on to marry and have his daughter with. From what you had heard, he mourned for a long time following the accident that had taken her from her family. He hadn’t meant to hurt you, he had just found the love of his life, and it wasn’t you.

Marcus groans under the hot water of the shower, leaning his forehead on the cool tile to try to ease the headache that was still splitting his skull in half. What a stupid ass situation. He’d been so excited to see you last night, still with that twinge of guilt but excited nonetheless. He’d started seeing your name in magazines here and there, your career really taking off, and he’d wanted to hear all about it from you instead of via a reporter. He’d kept his face still when you mentioned your divorce in passing. Told you a little about Missy and been grateful when you didn’t get starry eyed about him being a Heroic. His mother’s instinct to send him to a regular school had been a good one.

It happened by accident. When he turned to shove his lathered-up hair under the shower head, he’d caught the outline of your body lying back in the tub and choked on his reaction. God you’re gorgeous. Even more than you had been back then. Vision a little blurry without his glasses, he can still make out the rise of your breasts above the water and admire the line of your leg sticking out above the tub when you have started to wash up. Marcus’s throat runs dry and he wills himself to keep control. The shower curtain obviously let shadows through, and he doesn’t want to be disrespectful. He’d loved you once - so much - and doesn’t want you to think he’d grown up to be a creep, staring at you in the bath.

You try to clean up quickly, but the hot water eases the pain. Closing your eyes and trying to not listen to the sounds of Marcus in his shower. It was so surreal, being here in this situation. You couldn't deny that you had thought about him over the years. He had been your first love, honestly the first man that you thought you were going to marry, although life had other plans. The entire class had thought so too, yours and Marcus's picture flashed up on the screen together: the two of you at prom together. You both had been voted most likely to get married. Something that you had both awkwardly laughed over, and you had ordered another drink.

“I’m – uh, I’m done.” He hates the way his voice waivers, but he had no goddamn idea how to handle this. He shuts off the water and reaches blindly out to the shelf beside it where he’d seen towels to wrap one around his waist. He draws the curtain back slowly, giving you fair warning to cover up, and swallows down the urge to jam his glasses onto his face and get a decent look at you. You aren’t... together. Whatever had happened, it was the product of drinking and a potentially bad joke.

"Okay." You stand and reach for your own towel, stepping out onto the mat and securing it around your body before you turn to the curtain. "You can– I'm decent." You offer, not bothering to worry about the water that is dripping down your legs. "I'll go into the bedroom to get dressed." You tell him. "You can– fuck it, use my toothbrush. It's not like we didn't kiss." You offer before fleeing the room so you don't do something stupid, like drop your towel and see how he reacts.

It only takes a few minutes to get ready, and Marcus is in his day-old clothes opening the door for you when you decide it’s time to head downstairs. He’s not sure he’ll ever be ready to face your former classmates, but he needs to know what happened. In the elevator, he discovers he’s nervously spinning the ring on his hand and looks down at yours again, seeing an expensive-looking wedding set, engagement ring and wedding band that lock together into an impressive piece of jewelry on your finger. It was the sort of thing he wanted to get you, back then. Dreamed of making his money young and being able to give you the world. Things changed when he’d met Missy’s mother, and he’d hated himself for hurting you even though he was so happy. “It’s nice,” he says, breaking the silence. “The rings. They’re...beautiful, actually.”

You jump, surprised that he had mentioned it before you look down at your hand. "It is." You admit, admiring it for a moment before your eyes find his. Looking away just as quickly. "Hopefully I– you, hopefully you can get your money back if you paid for it." You tell him quietly, knowing that if this was not a joke, it was definitely something he viewed as a mistake. "They look expensive."

He shrugs, looking down at his own ring. “Keep it.” He smiles sheepishly. “I gave it to you, I guess? So that makes it yours.” Over the last few years he had wondered what life would be like if he had stayed with you: if he’d still have Missy and if you’d get that cat you’d always wanted. If you still loved the snow. “You can remember what happened afterward, even if we can’t remember last night.”

You sigh, looking over at the man you are wondering if you had married in a drunken frenzy last night. You bite your lip, another flashback of last night coming to you. Riding him and having him kiss up your chest before he pulls your nipple into his mouth. You shake your head, banishing the memory just as the elevator arrives on the ground floor where the brunch was located. "No, I can't. You didn't want to marry me then, and you didn't want to marry me now." You tell him before you step out of the elevator and start walking off, not looking back.

“Shit.” He rushes after you, wanting to soothe your obvious and understandable irritation, but you have strode into the brunch room with your head held high. Strong as iron, just like you’d always been. When the crowd of your classmates sees you come into view there is an explosion of whooping and hollering, and just as much applause. His old friend Tim claps him on the back while he laughs.

Your heart plummets at the clapping and cheers. It's not a joke. You married Marcus last night. Susan rushes over to you, enveloping you in a tight hug and squealing loud enough that it hurts your ears over the rest of the noise. "Oh my God! I can't believe it!" She prattles, pulling away and grabbing your hand to gush over the ring. "I take full credit of course! It was all my idea and look!" She turns and points to the large screen where the projector is rolling and you gasp. There is video of you and Marcus, standing in a chapel in front of, of all things, an Elvis impersonator. Great, not only had you drunkenly gotten married to a man you hadn't seen in nearly twenty years, but you had gotten married by Elvis in Las Vegas. One big walking cliche.

“Oh my god...” Marcus feels his jaw hit the floor and his heart starts pounding, a stark reminder of the flash of a memory he has of being heart-poundingly excited standing in front of you in that ridiculous chapel. Had this really happened? He scrubs one hand down his face as his other unconsciously moves to hover over the small of your back, protective but not touching. You are in this together, after all.

“I guess...it happened...” he breathes, right next to you. He can’t believe these assholes took video of it, but he supposes at least now you could know what actually happened.

On screen, Marcus watches himself grin at you and you grin back. You look happy. Excited even. You must have been so damn drunk – you had been so angry with him for so long after he broke up with you and he didn’t blame you for it. He could remember the heartbroken look on your face as you had sternly asked him to leave your house, choking back tears. It was so different from how you looked on that video. Up there, you looked as happy as the day he’d asked you out.

You school your face into one that everyone else would believe is happy. Wanting to look away from the video, instead you watch, fascinated as you and Marcus giddily exchange vows, unable to keep from kissing each other between vows like saps. "A toast to the happy couple!" You groan quietly and your stomach rolls at the thought of alcohol as flutes of champagne are brought over to you and Marcus. Unable to do more than accept them, you turn and face the man who was now apparently your husband.

“Hair of the dog,” Marcus whispers, trying for a reassuring smile. He tries not to throw up as soon as the champagne hits his throat, but he’s determined not to embarrass you any further by looking as mortified as he feels. Watching himself kiss you, he can distinctly remember the perfect way your lips had wrapped around his cock, tongue teasing the veins as you looked up at him with big, innocent eyes.

“Can I talk to you for a sec?” He asks in your ear, glancing over at an alcove nearby.

You finish the champagne despite it sloshing in your stomach and threatening to come up, then nod and hand your glass off to someone to follow him off to a secluded area. You swallow back some bile, hating that phrase. Remembering how he had resisted kissing you so many years ago and asked that same question before he broke up with you. "Yeah?" You ask, tensing for bad news and wrapping your arms around yourself protectively.

“I’m starting to...” Marcus clears his throat, that glass of champagne not having helped at all. Hair of the dog his ass. “I’m starting to remember things.” He searches your face for a reaction but gets none. You look like a deer in headlights. “Um,” he exhales, eyes pinching closed for a second before opening again. He feels so guilty. Like he shouldn’t have these memories, despite the fact that you were the first person he did absolutely anything sexual with. “The sex.” He forces himself to say it. “Specifically, I’m starting to remember us having sex.”

You huff. "Yes, I'm fully aware we had sex, Marcus." You roll your eyes. "I'm the one that woke up with cum crusted on the inside of my thighs." Marcus flushes and his eyes dart down to your thighs. You were starting to get flashbacks of it as well, but it seems like he is remembering more than you did. "What's your–" You break off, your tone hostile and you don't want to take your mistakes out on him. "Okay, do you remember something you think I should know?"

“I know you’re mad,” Marcus’s head drops to his chest and he sighs. “We did something stupid and you have every right to be mad. But,” he glances up, hoping your eyes aren’t burning a hole in his head. “I made the first move, so...this is on me.” He can remember it clearly now. The two of you tipsy, having a fairly serious discussion about what happened back then, and he had kissed you. Apologized for hurting you. Told you how much he had been thinking about you lately, with the reunion coming up it had super charged his memories of you. “I kissed you first. And I’m pretty sure I was the first one to get clothes off. And I’m definitely the one who...went down on the other one first.” He reaches up to rub the back of his neck self-consciously. “So if you’re going to be mad about anything.” He shrugs. Now that he can remember it, that kiss felt amazing. That first press of your lips together after nineteen years and the way you had moaned against him when he opened his mouth for you to lick inside. “Be mad at me, I guess.” He can’t help himself, his eyes flick up to your lips, wavering there before looking back up at you. Now that he can remember it, he’s aching to do it again.

"I'm not...mad, I'm disappointed." You admit, looking away from him. "It's not like I hadn't– I wanted to just..." You shrug, suddenly feeling foolish. "I wanted to show you up, prove that you had missed out on something great. And now this is something that is going to cause you embarrassment." You close your eyes and sway slightly, your cunt clenching when you remember his tongue against your clit, moaning into you as he eagerly ate you out. "Stupid, huh? To still be petty about being dumped for the one you were supposed to be with." You swallow, meeting his gaze again and not being able to tell what he was thinking. "I'm sorry. I'll – I'll just go."

“Don’t!” He reaches out to grab your arm as soon as you turn, not too hard but enough to pull you back to him. “You did show me what I missed. And...from what I can remember, it was great.” You’re standing so close to him that he feels like he’s breathing down your neck and he has no idea if you’re okay with it or not, even though it’s stirring his cock back to life. “I don’t regret the years I had with Missy’s mother. She was a wonderful woman, and I loved her. If I hadn’t had her, I wouldn’t have Missy, but,” he huffs a sigh, his hand slipping up your arm to drag his knuckles down your cheek gently. “I loved you, too. I’m not embarrassed that we had sex. Please don’t think that, okay? I’m embarrassed that this is the way it happened. You deserve better.” He squeezes his eyes closed again, gearing himself up for you to snap at him again. “And, for the record? Everyone knows disappointed is worse than mad.”

You can't help but chuckle at that, relaxing at his speech. You didn't blame him, not really. The rejection had been heartbreaking at the time, but you also wouldn't have the career you have if you had stayed with Marcus. You would have followed his career, let it overshadow what you wanted to do with your life. "I guess we need to talk about this somewhere a little more private about all this." You look around and bite your lip. "Decide what we are going to do."

Marcus nods, glad you haven’t screamed at him or run away. “Do you want to placate our gleeful classmates and eat first?” He asks, not wanting to pressure you into anything. He’d gladly leave now if you wanted but he’d leave it up to you. “It might be helpful to hear more of what happened.”

You can agree with that. "It might help the hangover too." You acknowledge, looking towards the buffet. "Do you want to go grab a plate?" You ask, wanting to see if he wanted to eat with you or would prefer to separate and learn as much as he could on his own.

He glances around the room taking stock of everyone’s reactions and finds half the room trying very badly to pretend they’re not staring at the happy couple. “Go talk to Susan,” he suggests, knowing how your old friend loves to talk her head off. “I’ll see if Tim is feeling chatty.” He swallows, hard, and finds your eyes. “Better keep up appearances?” It’s selfish, using the curious eyes as an excuse to kiss you again, but Marcus Moreno is so rarely a selfish man that he’s willing to see if you’re okay with it.

You nod, knowing that everyone in the room is trying to discreetly look towards you. "Okay." You breathe out, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach as he steps closer to you, his hand coming up to grip your waist. Your heart is pounding and you curl your hand around his neck as he leans in, his tongue coming out to swipe on his lower lip. "Kiss me, Marcus."

That’s all he has to hear. Holding back a groan, he tugs you closer and slots his lips against yours. It’s probably only for a second, but it feels like hours. The kind of kiss that makes him tingle. Your lips are as soft and warm as they were last night, but this time there’s no alcohol and the taste is all you with a touch of toothpaste. That groan he was holding back breaks free and he pulls back, embarrassed.

You sigh out, wishing he had kissed you for longer, but it was for show. Trying to convince the roomful of your former classmates that it hadn't been a drunken mistake when you had gotten married last night. You drop your hand from his neck and give him a small smile that you don't feel. "Good luck finding out what we did." You whisper and step to the side and walk off towards Susan.

Marcus watches you go, eyes lingering on your ass just a little too long, but he figures it’s okay to check out the woman who was technically his wife. God, what a mess. At this point, he had to admit to himself that he’d come here for you. No other reason and no other motive. He wanted to see you again and this was the only way how. How was he going to explain this to Missy? Hey here’s you new stepmom, we got drunk and Elvis sang Burnin Love to us after our vows. Ugh. He headed back to Tim and his other old friends, hoping they could shed some light on the events leading up to the insane cliche of a Vegas wedding.

“Awwww!” Susan is giggling when you walk back towards her, clapping her hands a little and looking at you with dreamy eyes. “You guys have always been so cute!”

"Thanks." You give her a smile and try to ignore the way you feel Marcus's eyes on you.

"He's watching you, you know." Susan says with a happy grin, making you look back to find his dark eyes on you. Giving you an encouraging smile before he looks over at the guys when someone comes up to him and slaps him on the back, a grin flashing across his face. "Tell me," Susan leans in conspiratorially, "was it as good as you remembered? Or was it even better?" She sighs, obviously in love with the idea of your fairy tale romance. "He's definitely a man and not a boy anymore." You hum and make a non-committal sound that she takes as playing it close to your chest.

******

“Come on, Romeo,” Tim is laughing and grinning, pulling Marcus along to join their other drama club friends in the buffet line. “Tear your eyes away from your bride for 30 seconds and come fuel up. From what I heard, you’re going to need your strength.”

Marcus blanches. “What d’ya’mean?” He mumbles, shoving a piece of toast in his face so he can’t say too much.

“Dude my room is right next to hers,” Tim shoots him a sly grin. “You guys are better than porn.”

“Uh...thanks?” What the hell does Marcus even say to that? “Please tell me you didn’t jack off to me having sex?” His eyes are absolutely pleading. He’s very glad to hear that you enjoyed yourself, but he doesn’t want anyone to say one single word against you for something you clearly regret. He wishes he didn’t have this knot in his stomach. Not the one from his hangover, but the one from kissing you just now.

“I would never do that.” Tim tells him solemnly before busting out a grin. “I was too busy editing your wedding video for today. Like you asked.”

******

"From what Tim said, you were very vocal."

You honestly wished the floor would open up and swallow you whole. You bite your lip, still aching pleasantly from whatever had made you so vocal last night. "So why don't you tell me what everyone said when we decided to go to the chapel."

That makes Susan change topics. She grins and nods. "Oh, everyone was just ecstatic. All talking about how touchy the two of you were. And when Marcus kissed you? All the girls that were jealous of you having him in high school were green with envy." She giggles and leans in to whisper, "Some of them didn't think it was real, just hype for the reunion, but I could see his heart in his eyes when he looks at you." She confides.

You flush, your cheeks burning, and you wish that were true. You had never exactly gotten over Marcus, even after you moved on and married your now ex-husband. "Well, the feeling was mutual." You admit, telling yourself it was just to keep up appearances.

******

“Thanks for that.” Marcus finds that he really means it, because it’s helping both of you to piece together the night - and maybe also a little bit because watching himself look at you like that was eating at his armor. The armor he had carefully constructed after his wife had died and he had promised himself that no other woman would come into Missy’s life until he was absolutely certain about her. And he had never been certain about any of the small number of women he’d dated in the last five years. But you? He mechanically fills up his plate with enough food to banish his hangover and nods his head along with whatever Tim was saying.

“What did she think of the ring?” He asks, and Marcus tunes back in. Tim huffs at his quizzical look and chuckles. “You were so serious about engraving those things, I figured she would at least say she liked it.”

Marcus immediately slips his ring off his finger and finds a rose flanked by both of your first initials carefully engraved inside. His chest clenched. You had played Romeo and Juliet together in high school – the rose in his ring being just like the ones he used to give you before rehearsal.

******

Your head is pounding and Susan's chatter isn't helping, but you follow behind her and fill up your plate with things that won't make your stomach revolt. "And then that engraving on your rings? That was so sweet and the fact that Marcus insisted on it made me swoon."

Your eyes widen and when you sit down you slip off your rings to find your initials and a rose engraved on the inside of the band. "Oh." Your heart melts but the realistic side of you hates to see it. It means the rings can't be returned. You hope that you had paid for your rings yourself so he isn't out the money.

******

“Uh, yeah,” Marcus manages to nod, forcing a smile that he hopes is convincing. “She really liked it.” Ready for a tornado to come and swallow him whole, Marcus shoves his hand in his pocket as the guys head to a table together, finding his cell phone open to a text string with his daughter:

‘Missy, I know I should have talked to you first. I should have told you about her, and how she’s the only woman I’ve ever loved besides your mother.’

‘There’s nobody else I want in our lives and even your abuela liked her, so you know she’s a keeper.’

‘Miss, I’m not trying to replace your mom. I just hope you’re okay with this. I love her, and I hope you will too.’

Oh god. Marcus swallows the rising dread threatening to make him sick all over again. What have I done?

******

You look over at Marcus, frowning when you see him looking at his phone with a distraught look on his face. You wondered what has him looking like he's seen a ghost. You think about going over there, but you aren't really his wife.

"Hey everybody!" Your head turns to the front of the room where the projector is going. "We are about to officially show the wedding video of our own newest happy couple. Mr. and Mrs. Marcus Moreno! Come on guys, stand up and come up here!" You want to crawl into a hole when everyone starts clapping again and Susan urges you up.

Catching your eye from a few tables away, Marcus makes his way over to you with an uneasy gait. The texts back from Missy had been more confused than anything else and he wasn’t looking forward to explaining what had happened. Reaching your seat, he offers you his hand to hold and presses an apologetic kiss to the back of it when you accept the gesture. The room “awwe”s at the sweet gesture, mistaking it for romantic.

"Are you okay?" You murmur quietly as the two of you make your way to the front of the room. Marcus squeezes your hand gently but doesn’t answer, making your stomach flip from nerves and from the way his hand feels entangled with yours. When you come up to the front, the former class president, John Walker, grins at both of you.

"So in high school they were voted most likely to get married." The picture of the two of you wrapped around each other was flashed up on the screen again like it had throughout the brunch. Your smile doesn't falter but your eye twitches, your grip on Marcus's hand loosening. "It's taken twenty years, but last night they made that a reality! And thanks to Tim Dalton, we have the wedding video for everyone to enjoy!"

When the footage starts rolling it's of the whole reunion, lots of couples slow dancing on the hotel ballroom's dance floor to the Pretender's "I'll Stand by You". The camera zooms in on Marcus with his arms around you, the two of you with hearts in your eyes. The song continues as Marcus watches himself lean in to kiss you, and he smiles a little now at the memory. On the screen, you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him back, both of you losing the rhythm of the music as you get caught up in the kiss. He remembers it distinctly now, that moment. He leans down a little and nudges your shoulder before whispering in your ear: "I remember that...you, um...you had just told me you missed me. And I said I missed you too."

You vaguely remember that, the haze of alcohol not having taken hold quite yet. "You...you said that you almost asked your information director for my number." Your brow furrows as you remember that detail. "You didn't want to contact me through the reunion app." There was an app that was like a general chat room for the entire class. It was chaotic at best and completely visible to everyone. "Or am I imagining that?"

He shakes his head gently, head still bent next to your ear. "No. You didn't imagine that." He swallows, dry mouth and the slight anxiety of memories coming back mixing together. "I really only came here to see you, anyway. I didn't figure the whole class needed to know that, so...I was going to call you and see if you were even coming." Heat creeps up Marcus's cheeks. "Clearly, I chickened out."

You can't help but grin at that. "But obviously it worked out." You point out, liking the way that his eyes lighten when they crinkle in a matching grin. God he’s still as handsome as the day you had first held his hand. Or the last day he had been close to you. Maybe more so. He had aged like fine wine. Your attention is captured when you see the video change, obviously later in the night, the two of you a little more tipsy.

Marcus reluctantly looks away from you, turning his eyes up again to watch the two of you on screen – you sitting in his lap with your arms around him, gently peppering his cheeks and neck with kisses. The audio crackles a little, tuning in to what the two of you are saying. "So fucking gorgeous," he hears himself saying to you, before he actually giggles a little at you planting a kiss on a spot where he's ticklish. He has to agree with his tipsy self – you look amazing.

Catcalls come over the video, shouts from other classmates for you to get a room. Until Susan comes into view. "No, they need to just get married! We all know they belong together."

You fluster tipsily, laughing and kissing Marcus. "You should make an honest woman out of me." You coo, batting your eyelashes at him playfully. Oh God, you had encouraged it, you had practically begged Marcus to marry you. Embarrassment floods your body even as Marcus eagerly nods on the video.

The catcalls turn to cheers as Marcus watches himself lift you off his lap and slip off his chair, down on one knee. Wide-eyed, he grips your hand tighter as he watches himself propose to you. Tipsy as he was he trips over his words a little, but it is absolutely clear that he was not coerced or forced in any way. And neither were you. Tipsy? Yes. Encouraged by your classmates? Absolutely. But this was two adults who seemed to be fully aware of what they were doing.

You watch the proposal and the way that you immediately nod and crush your lips to his. Only pulling away to shout to everyone around you that you were getting married. "Oh my God." You whine, only where Marcus can hear you while everyone else in the room releases 'awwwwe's and laughs at how excited the two of you are in the video. "I don't think you can blame yourself for this." You whisper to Marcus.

"We're in this together." He moves his hand from holding yours to wrapping his whole arm around your shoulders supportively. The video morphs again - this part clearly filmed on someone's phone as you and Susan are poking through white dresses in a shop clearly meant for this exact purpose. Susan grabs a little veil off a shelf and plops it on your head, telling you to "Say something to Marcus!" while she points at the phone. They were obviously already planning on putting this video together.

"Marcus, I love you so much." You gush to the camera, making a kissing face to it before you burst into giggles. Susan squeals and says she's found the perfect dress, recapturing your attention.

The video cuts to Marcus searching for suits with Tim. "I can just wear this." He whines, looking down at the outfit he was wearing. Your eyes widen, realizing the suit he was wearing now wasn't what he had come to the reunion in.

"No man, you can't get married in that. Tell your lady love something." Tim says, encouraging Marcus to look over at the camera.

“I love you, hermosa.” Marcus says on the video, flustering and grinning. “I’m so glad you’re here and I’m here and that you said yes.”

Beside you, Marcus looks down at his suit and squeezes his eyes closed. How did he not realize that he wasn’t wearing the same one he came in? The pile of clothes on your hotel room from earlier comes back into his mind and he now realizes there was a white dress tossed in one corner of the room.

The video cuts to the chapel, the two of you giggling and Marcus won't even let you go long enough to walk down the aisle traditionally. Loudly telling Elvis that he wasn't letting you go, it had been too long since he had last held you. That makes you bite your lip, swallowing hard when he leans in and kisses you again on screen.

The vows are surprisingly heartfelt, for how drunk you both are at that point. He’s pulling you in for kisses after every sentence or two, telling Elvis that he wouldn’t be able to keep from kissing you either if he were him. When Elvis finally proclaims you man and wife, Marcus watches himself pick you up bridal style and carry you back down the aisle, shouting at everyone not to wait up. The sound of you giggling in his arms is one that brings him back – and he realizes he’s been holding you tighter while your haphazard wedding ceremony plays out on screen.

You fluster, hearing the comments that the party that had come with you are saying. You bite your lip and your face feels like it's on fire when they start making bets on how long before you announce a baby. Your eyes dart over to Marcus's and you see his own widen behind his glasses, the thought of birth control obviously one that had just hit him. You take mercy on him, not wanting him to panic too hard. You lean in to him. "I'm protected." You whisper, hoping to put his mind at ease.

Marcus deflates a little at your assurance, ashamed that he hadn’t thought of that himself. The video ends with Susan and Tim waving your marriage certificate in front of the camera and the room is filled with the sound of flatware clicking against glasses. “Kiss!” Someone in the back of the room spots, and within seconds everyone has joined in.

You lift a brow and look at him in question. It wasn't like you hadn't kissed before. This time you were a little more eager, wishing that you knew what he was thinking when he searches your face before nodding. His hand cups your cheek, and you tilt your head as his mouth slants across yours. Firm and much deeper than the one he had put on you earlier, making you whimper into his mouth and melt against him.

Kissing you had a habit of making the world float away. Marcus had kept himself firmly on the ground in the alcove earlier, but this time you were pressed against him and sighing open to let him in and he melted along with you – much to the glee of the entire ballroom. This time when you parted it was reluctantly and Marcus keeps his eyes on yours, knowing how much softer he looks and feels. Did you actually mean even the smallest bit of what you had said last night? Did you still love him even a little bit or was it the alcohol and horniness talking? Make an honest woman out of me, you had said on that video. He would have, if he hadn’t met Missy’s mother. You were the only two women he’d ever loved. And right now the clenching in his heart told him he might have meant it when he said he loved you. Or at least, he was falling back in love with you.

You tuck your head under his chin, shy from how much you had let yourself slip into the kiss. Feeling like it had been real while he was kissing you. Your heart aches, wishing that everything that had been said in that video had been real, but you couldn't be sure. You sigh quietly when his arms tighten around you as the rest of the room finally quiets down. "Now lovebirds, as a gift to you, we have booked you two a few extra days here and changed your flights. So you can enjoy a proper honeymoon." John announces, making your eyes widen. "Some of us have bets on when there will be another announcement." He chuckles.

“It’s okay,” Marcus whispers to you. His arms squeeze you close and he presses a kiss to the top of your head. “It gives us time to figure this out.” Figure it out. Marcus can feel how wrong the words came out, but he doesn’t know what to say to fix it. You would want out of all of this as soon as possible, but since there were probably twice as many divorce lawyers in Vegas as there were chapels, he was sure you’d be out of the woods in no time. He would apologize profusely to Missy and nurse a severely sad heart at home. He had never wanted to do anything to hurt you and now he’d done it twice – breaking up with you and somehow getting you into a marriage that you’d only agreed to because you were drunk.

From the side of the little stage, Tim hands him a room key with a wink. “And there’s a surprise waiting for you there!” He announces to the room. Your eyes widen, half afraid of what kind of surprise there is.

“Well, I guess that’s our queue to leave.” Marcus says playfully, taking your hand again and making everyone laugh. He leans into the microphone and tells the crowd: “Thank you, this will definitely be a reunion we will never forget.” Talk about the understatement of the year. And severely ironic.

John shoos you off the stage. “We wish you both the best of luck and get out of here! Go make babies!” He jokes, making you fluster and you can see Marcus’s ears burning.

______ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Marcus Moreno #Marcus Moreno x reader #Marcus Moreno x you #Marcus Moreno x female read #Marcus Moreno x f!reader #high school sweethearts #one that got away #what happens in vegas stays in vegas #We Can Be Heroes

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joels-shitty-puns · 4 months

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Can we talk about Marcus Moreno for a sec and also the fact that they made his uniform SO MUCH SEXIER than every other hero??? Like hello? Look at Pedro's outfit next to Boyd's. His is so baggy and Pedro's is TIGHT and black. No offense to Boyd. His suit is still cool. But look at the difference.

Also this was a kids movie, they didn't need to go that hard. Like who in the costume dept had a crush on Pedro?

I don't see enough fanfic about him. He's sexy as hell and an incredible dad. He also wears glasses and is a kick ass superhero. What more do you need?

Was the movie a cheesy lil kids movie? Yes. But damn, Marcus.

#pedro pascal #we can be heroes #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal cinematic universe #Pedro #marcus moreno #Marcus

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radiowallet · 7 months

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Pairing: Dieter Bravo x Marcus Moreno Summary: Dieter takes Marcus to a party in the valley. WC: 4.5K Warnings: 18+ MDNI Sexual content. Exclusive M/M dynamics. Written in third-person POV, male protagonists. Anal sex, dirty talk, kissing, cum play, semi-public sex. Small angsty moments. Yearning. So much yearning. AU Marcus Moreno (no wife, no Missy). A lot of purple prose and waxing poetic.

A/N: Hi, hello, it's been a very very long time since I've shared any writing here. I don't have any good excuses other than real-life stressors, mental health and anxiety, and the overall stress of being on Tumblr really really got to me. I'm trying to ease my way back in. Slowly. I've really enjoyed catching up on all the amazing fics you guys have been writing. Thank you to everyone, still here or otherwise. Even when I was off dealing with irl stuff, I could feel the support.

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For any new writing follow @radiowallet-writes and turn on notifications.

Marcus chewed at his nail bed, surveying the house from the backseat of his Uber. It was hardly the first time he’d pulled up to the Sherman Oaks home. He was comfortable with the routine at this point. Tapping in the code for the front gate with practiced ease. The same one Dieter had scribbled onto the back page of a forgotten script after that first night together in New York City, his cell ringing incessantly from his back pocket, a car waiting down the curb to whisk him away. Marcus swore he could still taste the mint and menthol on the actor’s breath when he stepped in close and pressed the paper into his hands, kissing him until his toes curled.

“Please say you’ll come visit.”

After that, it had been one strategically planned visit after the other. Marcus was almost mathematical in his process, arranging flights out west around his patrol schedule, switching shifts, and taking on extra duties just to rationalize the time away. Burning the candle at both ends but not caring even in the slightest, happy to run his tank on empty. He’d drive all fucking night if it meant more time with Dieter.

So he took to the task with a vigilant level of focus, texting details and arrival times, the actor responding with a barrage of emojis, always ending with a heart.

Marcus liked the way the little pixelated picture made his stomach flip.

Once together, it became less of a routine and more of a dance, the two of them falling into an easy rhythm that Marcus had no desire to predict. They would lose themselves in each other, wrapping tightly around the other, the heat impossible to turn away from. There were late nights and early mornings, the color of the sun replacing the hours on the clock. Sometimes, he would give up on sleep all together, content to match the actor’s eccentricities, watching Dieter move from room to room, minute to minute, until the other man would return to his arms.

But as each visit came to a close, Marcus would find himself falling back on easy habits, his mind already making plans and rearranging schedules, focusing on that instead of the overbearing weight of goodbye.

In the middle of one farewell, Dieter had grinned and nipped at his bottom lip, a tease curling around the curve of his cheek.

“Don’t worry so much about the vigilante shit, sweet boy. You’re welcome anytime.”

Marcus had frowned at that, but Dieter was unfazed, humming an off-key pop song under his breath before giving one more piece of advice.

Be spontaneous.

Marcus had gnawed on those two words the entire plane ride home, the concept both enticing and diabolical at once. He imagined all the ways he would have spoiled Dieter if they lived in the same zip code. Spur of the moment cups of coffee, flowers just because, nights in and out and everything in between. But even those daydreams felt out of reach, Marcus unable to let go of the need to control everything. Everything. Everything that he possibly could.

Except Deiter Bravo.

The actor was bound for overseas, a six-month shoot looming ahead, lonely and large. They had spent the weekend before much the same way they had any other. Twisted together, sweat and cum and lips and hands pressed into bare skin, ignoring the ticking of traitorous time. Cruel miles were taking the other man away from him, and Marcus couldn’t stop the swell of jealous fear flaring inside his heart.

Would he even be missed when the whole luminous, wonderful, exciting world was waiting for Dieter on the other side of the tarmac?

A deep cough from the front seat dragged him back to the present, and before he could second guess himself again, Marcus climbed out of the car, tapping out five stars with one hand and grabbing his overnight bag with the other. He hesitated, just the smallest moment of debate, before he knocked, three sharp raps on the large black door. There was a shout from inside, Dee’s voice alerting someone he would get it, a breath and a curse as the lock was fiddled with, and then they were standing face to face after only 39 hours apart.

Dieter seemed shocked to see him and he didn't bother hiding it, his jaw dropping in time with his arms, the shirt he had been buttoning hanging open to reveal his bare chest. Marcus couldn’t help but steal a glance of tan skin and a soft belly, licking his lips in anticipation. When Dee called his attention back up, the other man was smiling wide.

“This is…”

“A surprise?”

“A great fucking surprise.”

It was almost a blur after that. Fumbling hands and broken laughter as they came together in a messy kiss. They managed to make it up the stairs and down the hall, Dieter’s bed barely breaking their fall.

Marcus wanted to take his time, should have been taking his time, but Dieter’s voice was in his ear, thanking him — thanking him? — for showing up tonight. Thanking him and begging him and pressing salt-slicked lips into the curve of his neck. And before he could breathe the other man in, savor the moment that was coming out of nowhere, they stripped away each and every layer, Dieter panting beneath the hurried press of Marcus’s fingers deep inside.

Sooner rather than later, Marcus was sliding into the other man one final time, their hips flush and their fingers laced. He came with a groan, face buried into the dip of Dieter’s neck, while the actor sunk his teeth into his shoulder, the pleasure burning away into the edges of pain. Only after they both found their breath, bodies pliant and limbs loose, did Marcus find his voice.

“Do you want to order in?”

Dieter didn’t say anything and Marcus craned his neck up to peek past the other man’s chin and catch a glimpse of him worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Did you already eat? Because that’s okay.”

“No…,” he started, fingers tracing a line of muscle from the top of his shoulder and back around, lingering along the teeth marks he left there only minutes earlier. “I haven’t eaten. I…there’s this thing I have to….well, not have to. I was getting ready for it when you knocked—“

“Dee?”

“There’s a party,” he finally blurted out, eyes finding the swing of the ceiling fan above, a grimace pulling his lips into a jagged line, a deep shade of pink settling on his cheeks.

Marcus leaned up on his elbow, watching the small battle of wills dragging across Dieter’s face. He thought maybe he should try to comfort the other man but he was suddenly anxious, those creeping realities working their way up his spine.

“A party?”

“Yeah, it’s sort of this farewell thing my friends are throwing,” he explained, not needing to. “Really, just an excuse to get blitzed.”

The lack of eye contact suddenly made much more sense.

“You wanted to go.”

It wasn’t a question.

Dieter was up and over him in a flash, one large hand bending around Marcus’s jaw, thumb pressing the seam of his lips shut. “I didn’t want to be alone.”

Marcus pursed his lips, the pad of Dieter’s thumb still pressing firm. He felt the callous from where Dee cheated his paintbrush, a perfect spot to push a kiss before pulling away.

“You want to go.”

Dieter searched his face, eyes wide and cheeks flushed, trying to pull apart the determined set of Marcus’s jaw. When he came up empty-handed, he fell back to his elbows with an exaggerated sigh, one large hand still cupping the cut of the hero’s cheekbone, keeping his thumb close enough to touch.

“I want to go with you.”

———————

Marcus smiled from where he was leaning against the doorway, watching Dieter rummage through his ridiculously sized closet, a string of muttered musings leaving him as he pulled item after item off of hangers. The Heroic had slipped back into his jeans and t-shirt once the decision had been made that they would attend the party together, not really packing (or owning) anything that fit the L.A. scene.

He was two steps towards the bathroom, intent on fixing his messy hair when Dee stopped him with a strong grip on his elbow.

“Leave it,” he teased, a quick kiss pressed to his lips, fingers tugging at one of the sweat-slicked curls.

Now he was standing behind him, sliding a stone-washed jean jacket up one arm and then the other, one more kiss, this time gifted to the back of his neck. The jacket hangs a bit loose around him, Marcus guessing a mix between the cut and style, and Dieter’s broader frame both at play. He couldn’t help himself, tugging the collar to his nose and inhaling deeply, the smell of weed and cologne and something subtle sweet filling his lungs.

He felt Dieter’s eyes, watching him carefully in the reflection of the mirror, his hands finding the dip of his waist beneath the bulky fabric, gripping hard then soft, one, two, three times. Marcus took in the pair of them — sex-mussed hair and bright blush on him, wild eyes, and a teasing smile on Dieter — and he suddenly had no desire to go to this party. Any party.

No.

All he wanted was for Dieter to pull this jacket off the same way he had so easily slipped it on, and drag him back down to the safety of the mattress.

“Come on, sweet boy,” he hummed, the hook of his nose tracing the shell of Marcus’s ear. “Sooner we get there, sooner I get to take you home.”

The word followed Marcus down the stairs and out to the car, his stomach flipping each time he let the meaning of it roll around inside his head.

Home?

———————

Driving in L.A. was an experience in and of itself. Marcus had made his own attempts, managing to find a rhythm in the few times he had been sent out to the west coast on assignment. It wasn’t much different than driving in any other city, as long as you were prepared to sit in what felt like endless hours of traffic. Of course, Marcus had the pleasure of abusing side streets and off-ramps when it came down to emergency situations.

Driving with Dieter behind the wheel was a different experience altogether. He seemed unfettered by speed limits or traffic lights, one hand on the wheel, the other wrapped around Marcus’s knee, singing along to the song on the radio but only getting about half the words right. If not for his powers and years of honing his reflexes, Marcus would have maybe suggested he do the driving when he was in town.

As it was, it was nice to settle into the plush leather seat and listen to Dieter’s slightly off-key voice, his hand squeezing Marcus’s knee in time with the beat of the music. He leaned back and closed his eyes, weighing the risk of asking Dieter to just keep driving. Maybe if they kept going, all night and all day, they could avoid the inevitable goodbyes looming in the distance.

———————

The last time Marcus and Dieter had been at a party together, they had only ever heard of each other, recognizing names and faces from newspapers and movie screens. They didn’t know any different than what was said in headlines or plastered on billboards, rumors and hearsay coloring in their opinions of one another. How many assumptions had Marcus made about the actor upon that first meeting? That he was pompous. Self-centered. Selfish. An addict. An asshole. A monster.

Or maybe Marcus was afraid that was how Dieter saw him.

The monster in the night. The shadow that lurked in the corner. Fighting away the evils of the world, the palms of his hands so very dirty with blood and secrets and violence. Living in the between of good and bad and never knowing where he really stood.

But when their eyes met across that darkened alley, only the glow of Dieter’s cigarette casting shadows between them, those half-truths and packaged lies that Marcus took for granted started to fall away. Somewhere between their small secrets and one smokey kiss goodnight, he started to learn who Dieter Bravo really was.

This party was different in so many ways than that first elegant affair. Gone was the light classical music, replaced with something loud, a heavy bass and fast lyrics. Bowls of chips instead of passed trays. Stiff black and white was traded in for soft denim, Dieter’s scent surrounding Marcus from room to room. They entered the party together, no longer separate, no longer strangers, and instead more.

So much more.

Dieter’s arm was wrapped around Marcus’s waist, holding him close by his side as they navigated the packed mansion. The crowd parted around them, little waves of people ebbing and flowing to make room for the two men, boisterous cheers of joy raining down upon them. Dieter preened beneath the attention, his smile wide and his cheeks warm, the hand wrapped around Marcus’s waist squeezing hard to grab the Heroic’s attention.

“They like to make a fuss,” he hummed into Marcus’s ear.

He couldn’t help but cock his own grin back, turning his head just enough to brush his lips along the shell of Dieter’s ear, delighting in the shiver that followed. “I think you like the fuss.”

———————

They get separated about an hour in, an inevitability between the number of people vying for Dieter’s attention and the sheer size of the house. Marcus excused himself to the bathroom, trying and failing not to be annoyed when the first empty one he found was on the opposite end of the party. By the time he made it back to where he left Dieter, the other man had moved, now sitting on a couch, friends and fans alike draped around him.

There was something strange about watching Dieter Bravo in what some would consider his natural habitat. He was bright and shiny and impossible to look away from. He almost looked relaxed, his arms thrown over the back of the sofa and his legs stretched out long, only the tap tap tap of his heel giving him away.

Marcus wanted to insert himself. To crowd himself beside the other man and press his palm to the bend of his knee in hopes of soothing away the small tremor of anxiety, but he hesitated, his own worries holding him in place. So he stayed where he was, back glued to the wall, arms crossed and frown firm, as he tried to decipher the scene playing out in front of him.

Was Dieter’s laugh real just then? Or was the one Marcus had teased out of him hours prior? The sounds seemed so similar, a copy of a copy that looked and felt and sounded real. Were his cheeks pink because he preferred their attention over Marcus’s? Or was it because this room was too damn hot? What did it mean when Dieter touched her knee? Or kissed his cheek? Or leaned a little bit more into their touch?

And why did Marcus care?

He didn’t consider himself a jealous man.

But it almost felt inevitable, the dark tendrils of jealousy seemingly always present, ever since that fateful moment in the alleyway, smoke and secrets traded away for unspoken promises for more. Marcus clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes, watching the other man glow beneath the attention of others. Was it merely a reflection back of the attention poured upon him? The mirrors of a disco ball catching in the light and shining for the delight of others? Or was Dieter just enjoying another moment in the limelight?

Marcus couldn’t seem to see the line between real and fake, or what side he stood on.

Someone handed him a drink in the midst of his brooding, and the sting of the alcohol paired well with his bitter mood. He was trapped in a hell of his own making, refusing to look away from the crowd gathered around Dieter, but hating every second of it.

The jealousy burned inside of him. What had just been something dark mingling in the background was now present and in full force. Marcus was jealous. Jealous at how effortlessly Dieter lived his life, able to navigate crowds and fame and fervor without ever breaking a sweat. Jealous at how his smile seemed just as bright as it had when he opened his door hours earlier. Jealous at how someone else held the attention of his sweet brown eyes.

And suddenly there was fear. Icy cold and horrifying reality.

Marcus didn’t belong here. Here with these pretty people and their clean lines and bright lights. He was messy edges and dirty hands, stained with years of violence that would never scrub clean. There was dirt on his ledger and red on his chest, and Dieter was beautiful. So very very beautiful.

Another wave of panic gripped tight at Marcus’s throat.

When was the last time he told Dieter he was beautiful? Yesterday? Or the day before that? Either way, it wasn’t enough. Not nearly. And he couldn’t fathom a world where he lost the chance to say it again.

He couldn’t lose this. He couldn’t lose him.

The lights above them flickered, an unwelcome side effect of his superpowers, Marcus’s unruly emotions too much to handle all at once. It was just enough to drag everyone’s attention up, stealing their eyes away from Dieter, but only briefly. The actor caught his gaze in the small interim, brows pinched and lips curved, his sharp mind putting the puzzle together. Marcus blushed beneath the scrutiny, feeling very much like a child caught in the midst of a crime. He slammed the cup down on the nearest surface he could find and shoved his dirty hands in the pockets of Dieter’s jacket, and turned away, the lights flickering one last time as he made a quick and embarrassing exit.

From behind he could hear the shout of a stranger.

“Hey, Dee where’s your boyfriend headed?”

Marcus was so focused on the fact that someone else called him ‘Dee’ that he missed the way Dieter's eyes lit up at the word boyfriend.

The bathroom he had found earlier was blissfully empty, and he took care to lock the door behind him. He braced himself against the sink, the cool porcelain a balm to the heat of his palms, breathing in and out, sharp and fast, to match the beat of his heart. A knock came seconds later, Dieter’s voice chasing the sound.

“Let me in, Marcus.”

It didn’t sound like a request.

Marcus unlocked the door with a flick of his wrist, and the actor slipped in, eyes pinning him in place as he locked the door behind him. For a moment both of them refused to speak, 2 feet of space between them, and enough silence to last a lifetime. It was Dieter who finally broke the tension, stepping forward until Marcus was within his reach, the palm of his hand cupping his cheek to keep him close.

“Flattered as I am, I can’t decide if I like jealous on you or not.”

Marcus knew it was foolish to lie at this point. If his fucking superpowers hadn’t given him away, then storming off surely had, and any denial would have rung hollow. Besides, they had promised. Months ago, in an opulent hotel room, cum and sweat sticking them together. They promised to always be honest with each other.

“I don’t belong here, Dee.”

“Shut up.” The sentiment came out as a tease, the tip of Dieter’s thumb tracing the stubble along Marcus’s cheek, but the look on his face was serious.

Marcus shook his head, unsure how to say what had seemed so clear to him only minutes ago. “I’m not…I’m not g–”

“I swear to fucking all, if you say the word ‘good,’ Moreno.”

His mouth clamped shut, and he smiled for the first time since he left Dieter’s side earlier in the night. The other man yanked him in for a quick kiss, only pulling a breath away when he spoke again.

“You are better than all of us, sweet boy. Please tell me you know that?”

Marcus wanted to shake his head in disagreement, the very idea that Dieter saw the good in him too much to bear, but the actor was already kissing him again, lips slanting sweetly along his own. When they broke apart for the second time, Dieter said it again, and then again, each time pairing a kiss with his words. Marcus thought maybe he would have kissed him a hundred times and then a hundred more, praise and adoration passed between them until the inevitable end of time caught up.

But then Dieter crowded in closer, kissing him with much more fervor, his intent clear. Hands scrambled as belts were tugged free and pants were pulled down, bodies twisting until Marcus was plastered to Dieter’s back. He slipped inside the broader man easily, still slick with his release from earlier. Dieter whined at the stretch, pressing back into Marcus, fingers curling around the edge of the bathroom counter as he began to beg.

“Hard, baby. Please.”

Marcus nipped at Dieter’s ear, refusing to move, the entire length of him buried to the hilt inside him. “How hard?”

“Hard,” Dieter begged again, squirming in Marcus’s tight grip. “Hard as you can. Need to feel you. F-feel so good.”

It was an intoxicating rush, reducing Dieter Bravo to stumbling pleas and wanton moans, and Marcus swore as long as he was able to pull air into his lungs he refused to take that feeling for granted. He pressed a soft kiss to Dieter’s skin and gently nudged his nose to the back of his head, coaxing his gaze up to meet Marcus’s in the mirror.

He dragged his hand up Dieter’s chest, stopping to feel the steady thump of his heart, one, two, three beats, before moving up to wrap his fingers around the other man’s throat. He whined again, writhing to and fro, the sound more pitiful with each passing second that Marcus refused to move.

“I’ve got you, mi cielo. I’ve got you,” he hummed the promise, pressing another kiss to Dieter’s sweat-damp curls. He squeezed the actor’s throat again, watching as his cock seemed to pulse in time with the action. He bit back his own groan, his own cock painfully hard where he was buried inside the other man.

“M-marcus…please…”

When he finally moved, it was slow, almost torturous for the both of them, but Marcus refused to be rushed. Not this time. Fuck any and everyone who dared to knock on that door. That dared to interrupt them. That dared to break between this moment. He pulled the other man closer, one arm wrapped around his waist, the other still gripping tight to his throat. Dieter’s hands were still scrambling, designer soaps and over-priced products falling to the floor as he seeked some sort of leverage. He finally found it, stonewashed denim bunching between his fingers as he dug them into Marcus’s forearms.

And only then did Marcus give into his request, snapping his hips as hard as he could, teeth sinking into the curve of Dieter’s neck. There would be bruises, bad ones, but he couldn’t bring himself to care, too overwhelmed at the thought of marking the other man as his own. Dieter didn’t seem to mind either, begging Marcus again and again to give him everything he had.

“Want to feel it,” he sobbed, the pleasure just on the other side of pain. “Want to feel you when I’m gone. Please.”

“You will, baby. I promise,” Marcus growled. “You’ll feel me for days. You won’t forget me. P-please… don’t forget me.”

The admission fell out of Marcus before he could stop it, along with his own broken sobs to match. The pain and tears burst to life, the broken pieces he had hidden all over his body finding new life as he begged Dieter to take it all with him. Each slam of his hips and bruising touch of his hands. Every bite from his teeth and kiss from his lips. The words and the promises and the things neither of them knew how to say but felt all the same.

“Take me with you, Dee. Please, take me with you.”

“I will, sweet boy,” he gasped, his body shaking beneath Marcus’s anguished hands. “Sweet boy. Good boy. I promise.”

Dieter came first, though Marcus wasn’t sure how, his sobs and sighs of pleasure long past any sort of coherence. His cock twitched and pulsed, coming completely untouched. Marcus watched Dieter’s face break apart in the reflection of the mirror, his brown eyes wild and skin flushed, lips parting around a feral scream.

Marcus fell apart in kind, sparks of heat bursting at the base of his spine as tight velvet squeezed around him, Dieter’s voice in his ear, his jacket sticking to his skin. He spilled inside the other man, tears and spit and snot pressed into Dieter’s neck, little words of praise coaxing him through the brunt of it. Eventually, the tears turned to laughter, the two of them clinging tighter as they made guesses at how many people heard them.

“Either way, I hope they enjoyed the show because I sure did,” Dieter teased, nipping his teeth on the hinge of Marcus’s jaw.

They did a piss poor job of cleaning up, Dee’s cum barely wiped clean from the porcelain with a towel found below the counter, too high a thread count for something so filthy but neither man really gave two shits to look for an alternative. The products were tossed haphazardly into the sink, the idea of stacking them neatly ridiculous. They both agreed; you get what you ask for when you throw a party in the valley.

Marcus took better care when it came time to clean Dieter up. He warmed up the water from the sink as best he could, using that same fancy towel from before to wipe up the trickle of cum slipping slowly down his backside. He couldn’t stop from stealing one small indulgence, using his thumb to press some of himself back inside the other man, Dieter’s legs visibly shaking from the sudden stimulation. Marcus shushed him with a soft kiss to one of the many bite marks littered across his neck, humming out a quiet apology.

“Do they hurt?”

“They do,” Dieter grinned, tilting his chin to admire the marks as he tugged his jeans up over the swell of his ass. “I’m gonna need a few more before I get on that plane tomorrow.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmmm, definitely.”

Dieter pressed something hard into Marcus’s hand and when he looked down he could see it was his car keys, the silver teeth catching in the light.

“Take me home, sweet boy. I have plans for you.”

There was that word again, breathed out so easily, like a promise he knew he would keep.

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#Marcus Moreno #Dieter Bravo #Marcus Moreno fic #Dieter Bravo fic #Marcus Moreno x Dieter Bravo #mlm #we can be heroes #the bubble #pedro pascal characters

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