I'm only really familiar with Blood Moon from the ones you mentioned, but I present a prompt:
“Will you still be here tomorrow?”
For anyone (including ones I know nothing about, your writing is still lovely). 😌 No pressure though. Thank you! 💕
Well, Marco's done it. He's peaked.
He fucked the Alpha.
It's weird just thinking it, he's not sure how he's going to put it into words.
And he's going to put it into words, because he needs to brag to someone about this. There is literally no way he can't.
Well, he should probably ask Vesper first. Once he wakes up, and all. Marco can't help but feel a sweet swell of pride, seeing the other wolf fully zonked out, face down in the pillows, making soft, happy sleep noises.
Marco did that. Hell yes.
Vesper is, what? Six-four? And built like a pro athlete to boot, hairy and muscular and, ugh, like, disgustingly pretty. Entirely out of Marco's league, however much confidence he tries to (loudly) project on the day-to-day.
And, apparently, he likes being doted on in bed in ways he would never accept anywhere else.
Also he's a bottom.
There've been a lot of surprises lately, but that definitely, uh, tops the list, so to speak.
Marco's still simultaneously basking in the afterglow and grappling with a whole hell of a lot of weird, strong feelings (old and new) when Vesper stirs beside him. A deep grunt interrupts the sweet, dozy mumbles, and a heavy hand lands on Marco's chest. It's warm and a little clammy, the sweat of their... activities long since cooled, but it's nice, in its own way. A calloused thumb glides along his skin, tripping over a ridge of scar tissue with sleepy curiosity. Marco looks down to find dark eyes watching him, stormy grey deepened to almost-black in the dimly lit bedroom.
Marco's tongue feels heavy in his mouth all of a sudden, like the last few hours of, uh, probably mostly nonsense dirty talk that somehow seemed to work regardless left him high and dry when he needed to be a normal, not-horny, person again. "Hey," he squeaks, because he is suddenly extremely aware that his harness is hanging from the edge of the bed, but he has no clue where his dick went. Hopefully it's on the floor, because he can't even imagine how awkward it would be for Vesper to find it tangled up in the blankets later.
"Hey," Vesper replies, deep and sluggish. His eyes are crinkled a bit at the corners. A few strands of hair are clinging in dark whorls to his unfairly sharp cheekbones, his mouth kiss-bitten and soft-looking. Marco wants so badly to touch him, but things between them are still so new. He's still dealing with newly-minted Alpha stress, the whole Blackwell thing aftermath, so they haven't really talked about what any of this even is. Vesper's eyes track his face, charting whatever weird journey it's going on, and they sort of darken more. His stern brows furrow, and his soft mouth tightens.
"Do you want me to go?" Marco blurts before he can really help himself.
Vesper looks away. He's quiet for a moment, and every second feels like an eternity. "Do you want to?" he asks, his deep voice hardly more than a whisper.
Marco's struck speechless, which is saying something. He's never been at such a loss for words in his goddamned life. And twice in one day? Unheard of. "Wh-- No!"
Vesper seems surprised by that, of all things. His eyes are searching Marco's face again, he pushes up onto his elbow so he can look at him more fully, and whatever's there seems to only confuse him more. Slowly, haltingly, he says, "Will you... still be here tomorrow?" Almost as soon as it's eked out, he snaps his mouth shut, looking for all the world like he wishes he could rewind and take them back.
A slow, quiet sort of understanding dawns on Marco, a little piece of the puzzle that is Vesper dropping kind of clumsily into place. Before the back, Vesper was alone for God knows how long. It's not good for any wolf to be alone for too long, but knowing Vesper like he does now, he can only imagine how he felt. With the way he fights for the pack now, with a roaring, furious loyalty that would scare Marco if he didn't know the guy so well, it must have been torture for him to be alone. Marco was a stray too, once. That sort of loneliness, the fear of getting attached to anything because then you have something to lose, it doesn't just... go away.
Marco's hand drifts slowly, hesitantly, over the one still resting on his chest. It twitches, starts to pull away, but he holds it tighter, and once it stills he pulls it to his mouth and brushes a few little kisses over scarred knuckles. "Not until you kick me out."
Vesper smiles, his shoulders softening with relief, so much of it that it's practically dripping from every pore, and he melts back into the bed again. He doesn't take his hand back from Marco, though. In fact, Marco thinks if he tried to pull away now, Vesper wouldn't be too willing to let it go.
Not that Marco would.
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