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undercoverpena · 4 months

Text

make me like the holidays

marcus pike x f!reader | marcus masterlist

written for 12 Days of Pedro

summary: you're not the biggest fan of the holidays, so marcus makes it his mission to change that with a christmas market and a gift you have to wear.

wordcount: 3.6k warnings: smutty-themes, a teeny bit of orgasm denial, you consent to wear a vibrator controlled by marcus, vibrator worn in public, outdoor orgasm, christmas themes, marcus being a tease, his dimples, his smile, him.

an: huge thank you to @hellishjoel for asking me to be a part of this, and to @thetriumphantpanda for holding my hand, answering questions about warnings, and reading this as i shoved it at her face.

“So, what? You just don’t like the holidays?”

Snorting, you slide your fork around your bowl, licking your lips.

Because you knew eventually this would come up.

"I didn't... say that," you reply, averting your eyes. Mouth opening, closing again, unsure where to begin.

How to start.

How to begin to explain the odd feeling you get around this festive time of year. How your eyes don’t light up at tall Christmas trees, and instead your heart sinks whenever you see one of those adverts where the family all meet excitedly for the holidays.

It doesn’t matter how you dress it up—whether you hang tinsel or baubles—it always seems like an odd time of year. And because of that, It makes people pity you, aww at you, feel compelled to leave candy canes on your desk and purposefully add you to their Christmas card list, as though it's going to fix the decades of memories.

Placing your fork down, and you sigh. “I guess. I-I just don’t get super excited for it.”

Marcus is already thinking—you can tell.

The faintest line begins to appear between his brows, deepening the more he stares, drowning you in a brown you’re forever grateful to get the chance to wake up to every, single, day.

Leaning across the breakfast bar, he smirks—all devil, no angel. “I think I could change that.”

“Oh. Is that so?”

Nodding, his breath dances over your skin—all tantalising—before he softly slants his lips over yours, biting carefully on the bottom of your lip.

“That how you’re going to convince me, Pike—using underhand tactics such as your mouth?”

Snorting, he leaves his fingers lingering under your chin. “That’s a last resort. I think I can convince you in other ways to see how magical it can be with me.”

“You sound very confident.”

He smiles, and it makes something twist inside of you—a worry growing there, planting itself, all ready to grow into something ugly that he’ll eventually see. Be the thing at the top of the list when he inevitably realises he can do better than you.

Stroking your skin, he sighs. Not heavy, nor soft. Something in the middle. “I’m still going to love you if you hate the holidays, baby.”

Smiling, you look down at the counter—the one the two of you eat at whenever you can now, taking what hours you can have together.

“I promise,” he whispers. “But, you think you can let me try and make it special for you? Show you that there’s nothing quite like a Pike Christmas?”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you let out a heavy sigh, meeting his eyes—somehow feeling yourself fall even deeper in love with him when you do.

“How can I say no to such an offer.”

Bundled up, wrapped in layers—including his scarf—your gloved hand slides into his, fingers awkwardly trying to find the home between his, almost wanting to pout at the fact you couldn’t feel his palm against yours.

“Comfortable?”

There’s a sparkle to his eye, made worse by the smirk that accompanies it. The one you imagine he’s been wearing since he’d handed you the bag stuffed with tissue, arms folding as he leans in the doorway.

It’s a little bit of fun, he had said.

Your fingers unfold it, unwrapping it free as your eyes immediately land on the box containing the little purple device and its remote.

“I know the season isn’t your favourite thing, but I thought this might make it more enjoyable.”

Narrowing your eyes, you stare at the box.

“Thought it could give you something to be excited about,” he adds, tone shifting—more silky than normal. “Now, whether you’re on the nice or naughty list today, is down to you.”

"Oh, Santa Pike. Please put me on the good girls list."

Grinning, his fingers slid over your jaw as he kissed you, "I think you'd prefer to be on my naughty list, baby."

Now, that same purple, unboxed gift is resting against you, flush. Stuffed and held in position by the underwear he helped you choose—the lace of it keeping it very much in place. And while it isn’t currently switched on, but you know he could change that at any moment—the remote buried in his pocket, all within his grasp.

A thought which makes heat lick up your spine and an ember of worry knot in your stomach—

At any point you change your mind, you tell me, baby. You hear me? Just say the word.

Clearing your throat, you curl into his arm, staring up at him—watching him take in the run of wooden huts, fairy lights and overt cheer.

“Let me guess, you have a to-do list for today?”

Smirking, his arm comes around you keeping you close, before he pinches your side. “No. We’re gonna see what we get up to.”

Squinting playfully, you brush the edge of his stubbly chin. “I’m not buying it. You have a plan.”

Shaking his head, his teeth tease his lip, nose almost flush with yours. “No plan—just want a lovely day with my girl…”

Hovering your lips over his. “But?”

His eyes slowly close, nose scrunching—lips spreading into the biggest, most foolish smile. “We have to start with a festive drink—”

“I fucking knew it, Pike. Fine, come on.”

But, he doesn’t let you budge, not even as you grumble, grasping your hips, yanking you close.

He gives you a look, a pointed one—all accompanied by a grin. It’s all shit-eating, spreading delightfully up into his cheeks. One you’d usually brush over with the pads of your index fingers.

"You don't sound like you're having a good time, baby."

"Marcus..."

You don’t move them this time—leave them on his waist. Feeling his hand slide into his pocket. And you brace.

It’s the only way you’re able to stifle the soft moan which attempts to slide through your teeth and burn the air as it buzzes. Light, but good. Your breath was suddenly a challenge to find, made worse by his watchful stare.

Lashes fluttering, gloved fingers gripping into the side of his jacket as you let your breath paint against his neck. It’s all building—layering itself on thickly atop the earlier ‘testing’ he had done earlier. When you had whined his name, been tempted to shed the many layers and keep warm in an entirely different way with him.

“That feel good?” he asks, low, breathy—only able to formulate a nod.

Then, it stops.

Blinking, your thoughts suddenly cleaner, more appropriate—things beginning to speckle back into your mind.

“Kiss?” he asks, the request falling from his tongue like silk.

“Depends how good the drink is.”

It turns out, it’s delicious.

Marcus had practically whispered the name of the drink he recommended into your ear—having likely noticed the overwhelmed expression slowly etching into your face.

Trust me his expression reads, as if you’d ever trust anyone else.

As soon as the taste of his recommendation met your tongue, your body almost welcomed the season with open arms. Your groan wasn't even buried as your eyes widened at the taste, at him for suggesting it—watching him smirk before he looped his arm around your waist.

“Thoughts?”

Smiling, you almost reply that you like being close to him, preferably forever choosing to be pressed close to him. You find it calming, suddenly no problems ever seem that big when he’s next to you.

Swallowing that, you glance at him, knowing it would be easy to fight the smirk. To act placid, add a shrug, sell it. But, his eyes have widened a fraction, pupils a mere dot in a sky of brown, with the reflection of the lights acting like stars.

The hope etched into his expression is what puts the final nail in your attempt at nonchalance.

“It’s good.”

Brows rising, he grins. “Yeah?”

Nodding, you take another sip. The flavours of the hot chocolate coating your mouth as you slide your arm around his waist. The feel of his lips against your forehead spreading an additional warmth through you, that the drink would never have available.

You’re almost sad when it ends.

Not that he lets you sit in that. Quickly, he takes your cup from you, placing both in a nearby trash can, before he’s pulling you back to him. For the briefest of moments, you just stare, admiring the way you see the outline of yourself in the pool of his eyes, the way you get to witness the way his adoration spreads across his face—all lit up by swinging fairy lights in the gentle, winter breeze.

“Got cream on your lip, baby,” he whispers, tongue swiping across your bottom lip—nowhere close to the site he pointed out.

And then you feel it again.

The thrum which spreads through you, is pressed against your bundle of nerves, making your thighs quake on fixed and solid ground. With the addition of his mouth on yours, the waves lap more feverishly, it all building, all desperate to crash.

Your fingers grasp onto him, teeth piercing into his bottom lip as he kisses you, letting you bury a moan into his mouth—and Marcus is happy to swallow it. Gleefully getting to feel and taste the way he makes you feel as your walls flutter, tightening—wishing for more. Needing more. Almost begging for it when you catch his gaze.

“You know how good you look right now?”

And then it stops. Your breath hitching. Skin prickling with warmth as you let a gasp escape—it weaving into the air, encased in vapour as you blink.

“W-what’s next?”

He grins, it rising up until his dimple appears. His palm flattening to the back of your coat, fingers sliding in pulses.

“Thought we could pick decorations for our tree.”

Brows raising, you turn your head, looking at him, finding him already watching you. Something is spreading in you, a symbolic bandage extending out from his touch to around the places warped and scarred from years of bad memories.

“Our?”

Kissing your head again, you hear him repeat that one word: our.

Just like he had done when he’d moved the last box of yours, you asking whether his place would get your favourite burgers delivered—ours, baby. Ours. It felt it, too. He’d made sure of that. Created space on shelves, and moved ornaments from their homes to allow yours to have a place.

So, it wasn’t out of reach he’d do the same with his holiday, his tradition.

“What if you hate my taste?”

Snorting, he brushes your cheek. “You know I love the way you taste.”

Rolling your eyes, he laughs.

“I could never hate your taste, baby. I love everything about you.” His hand drops, and he takes a sip of his drink as you do the same. “Plus, you chose me. Can’t be all bad.”

He’s kind to you when you’re handling the baubles, even more, when the two of you wander hand-in-hand through tightly packed huts.

Your hands point out things, not just for the two of you, but for others—his parents, a friend. It allows your guard to drop, and your brain to temporarily forget the device resting snugly against the swollen nerves desperate for him—even if you’re aware of how soaked your underwear is. How it clings, how it brushes nicely against you when the two of you walk from place to place.

Marcus becomes less kind when you’re in the queue for a sugary snack, your mouth busy explaining to him where you best think the tree can go in his place—a thing he corrects to ours at every chance he can.

“You almost sound like you’re getting into all of this.”

Smiling, you rest your head against his shoulder in the line. “Maybe it’s the company.”

“Yeah,” he whispers, voice low, the corner of your eye-catching his other hand sliding into his pocket. “Could be that.”

“Marcus.”

He just raises his brow, a sly smirk passing over him, before you feel him flick it on. “How else are you going to remember that it’s our place, baby?”

Every nerve, the ones previously all frayed, now lit up—just like the tree in the centre of the market. Your mind empties with a press of a button, fingers sliding inside his open coat, grasping for him—for grip.

“You excited about the holidays now?”

Fuck, you hate him, because yes—if it’s like this you’ll forever adore Pike holidays. You’ll wish for them, count down to them on your calendar. Ticking off in red pen, making a point to excitedly cross each one of them off.

Because the two of you haven’t even put the tree up yet.

There’s still so much prep, so much you suspect he wants to replace with good, better—more excitable—memories.

“Bet you’re wet,” he whispers.

And you glare at him, unsure if it’s with adoration or anger. Both merging, swirling—concocting into something you can’t stifle as your cheeks warm and your ears burn. Because there are people around—families, small children.

“Take me home,” you plead. “Please?”

Pressing your thighs together you find only makes it worse. The pulses are far more forceful, and better aimed directly at the already needy parts of you.

The ones which he’s usually so attentive with, barely keeping you like this, all wanting and not satisfied. Marcus barely lets the knot in your stomach tighten usually, but now, you think he’s having fun with it. Likely admiring the way your pupils are swallowing colour and a sheen is crossing over the skin on show. Because you’re warm, too hot— there are too many fucking layers and not enough of him pressed against you—

“Need you, Marcus.”

His fingers brush against your chin, aiding you to take a step forward as the queue moves. “I know, but be good for me.” His mouth close to your ear, hand impossibly tight on your hip—keeping you pressed against him, able to lean, let him take your weight as your legs shake. “You deserve this—”

Your lips part, and all attempts at levelling your breathing fail, falling away from your grip. Feeling the focus on the surroundings fading, black spots appearing—this game of taunt and tease having made you so impossibly shaky on your legs.

And he turns it up.

Moves it to the next one up, an up-and-down kind of vibration. It feels good, but then it lessens—a momentary break, a chance to mumble his name less in a whine—before it returns like a second wave.

It pulsing. Something akin to a rollercoaster, a high and a low—it comes around in slow circles that makes it hard to know whether you’re close to coming or growing more frustrated.

“You want something with chocolate or prefer just sugar?”

You try to speak, mouth moving close to his ear, but only a moan escapes. Low, coming from somewhere deep in your soul as his grip tightens on your hip. The speed slowed for a moment, likely settling itself up to do another build-up.

It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters.

Your legs are unstable, more jelly than muscle and bone. It’s all too much, but not quite enough either—just needing that fraction more to stop teetering on the edge and fall over, filling with bliss, and pleasure.

Each time he slides his hand over your hip or back, you have to swallow a whimper of his name. Dangling against the edge, dangerously so—only one little push and you’d be falling, freely, willingly, likely moaning and making an embarrassment of yourself so close to Santa’s fucking grotto.

“If,” you begin, hand to his chest, fingers trying to find skin, something, anything, his still around your waist, practically bruisingly, clutching the many paper bags against you, “we go home now, we might have time to put the tree up.”

You watch him smirk, how it hits his eyes—making the twinkling lights pale under the brightness of his expression.

“Then,” you continue, lips sliding close to his ear, “you can—shit—do something no one has ever done.”

He swallows, loudly—not even swallowed by the choir. “What’s that?”

Smiling, licking your lips. “Fuck me under it.”

Pinching your side, you swear you hear him grunt.

You barely register that you’re being dragged, hip to his, being led—the little device working its magic against your drenched cunt as you pass by choir singers and a person dressed like an elf until it’s suddenly quieter.

Bags dropped to the side of you, back pressed against the side of a hut—the roof casts a shadow over his face, but his eyes still shine. They’re bright and alert. Drinking you in like you’re the only thing that he can see, ever wants to see.

"No one can see us, I promise."

You believe him. It's the only reason you allow yourself to release a pathetic moan before your fingers dig into his pocket. Searching through receipts and his phone, finding it. The thing which weighs more than gold to you, the remote that has the chance to make or break you right now.

It clicks with such ease.

Every muscle in your tightens, your eyes clench shut, all but vanishing winter wonderland from sight and painting a new picture on the back of your lids. Him—naked. Stood all soft muscles and his signature smirk. His room—ours, you hear it in your head, ours baby, ours—surrounding you.

You’re on fire.

Cracking an eye open, finding him watching—in awe, captivated like you’re a sight to behold. And maybe, clutching the remote in your hand, you were. Maybe you were illuminated in a heavenly glow and looking as though you could melt the fake snow around the two of you—you feel you could, anyway, just from the look he wears.

The fact the two of you are just focused, lost in only the other as he keeps you against the side of the empty hut—thankful, happy, that at least one of the stalls hadn’t opened so you couldn’t be heard being held against it, mind being lost to the buzzing in your underwear.

“Who knew you were so dirty?”

“You love it,” you moan, ghosting your lips over his.

Needing a little more, craving a little more.

Please, please, please you think over and over.

He takes it from your shaking fingers, sliding his knee between your thighs—pressing it more defiantly against you, flush, likely feeling the vibrations through his bones as you moan his name. Sketch it into the air, write it there, never wishing it would fade—

More, Marcus. Please, baby. Please.

You’re aching. Your ears flood with buzzing as liquid heat spreads through you when he clicks once, twice—thrice. Landing on a setting he must have seen in the instructions.

And it’s bliss.

It’s mind-melting, muscle surrendering. Your hand cupping the side of his neck, nails digging in, needing to feel him, know he’s there—wishing it was his fingers, wishing he was heavy against you. That weight you crave, that sensation of just him.

Close, so close—

You say it like he wouldn’t know. Like you can’t feel the way he’s looking for signs across your face, likely knowing more about how close you are than you even do. He spends enough time making you feel good. Too good to you, always has been, ever since the moment the two of you met, and you’re grateful, happy, content, fucking over the moon, sun and stars—

“What do you need, baby?”

“You,” you whine.

Just you, only you. Only ever you.

The coil in your stomach tightens, the knot having formed something which can shatter with far too much ease, and it does shatter.

You snap. Break. Fall apart.

He drags your face against his neck, letting you curse, and moan. His name crying out from your lips, until it falls in softer waves from your tongue, splaying across his skin, tattooing him. Squirming close to him, suddenly at ease, shoulders sliding from your ears.

“Marcus,” you whine, differently.

And you’re grateful it stops, him switching it off—a grin breaking out in its wake. Your breath slowly comes back to you, your chest unloosening from trying to bury all your pants.

That’s when you’re finally able to take him in and see the way he’s still staring, so lost in you. His mouth parted, the softest smile trying to stitch into his cheeks, eyes moving around the features of your face.

You just let him stare, and he lets you gaze. Only blinking, letting the rest of the world in when you hear a bunch of kids walk past the end of the hut, loudly laughing.

“I think I could like a Christmas with you.”

Grinning, he pockets the remote, his hand coming to your cheek. “Yeah? I told you I’d make it special for you.”

Nodding, you kiss him. Soft at first, before it deepens, nipping at his bottom lip—finding yourself meeting the hut again, his palm beside your head, able to taste the sweetness of his drink from earlier, the cream, chocolate and ginger—

“I was serious…” you mumble, “earlier.”

Pausing, he lifts his head.

“About the tree, what we could do under it.” Sliding your hand down his front, you cup him, feeling how hard he is, fingers sliding either side of him. “Think you deserve a special day too.”

“Really?”

Biting your lip, you nod, slowly at first—then more purposefully.

“Fuck, I love you, baby.”

an: merry pike christmas ;)

#Marcus pike x reader #Marcus pike x female reader #Marcus pike smut #Marcus Pike x you #Marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike fluff #Marcus pike Fic #Marcus pike fanfic #Marcus pike fanfiction #the mentalist #the mentalist fic #the mentalist fanfic #the mentalist fanfiction #Pedro Pascal #Marcus Pike Pedro Pascal #Marcus Pike the mentalist

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criticallyacclaimedstranger · 1 month

Text

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.”

#marcus pike #marcus pike fanfic #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x you #my fic

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absurdthirst · 6 months

Text

The Wolf in the Woods {Werewolf!Marcus Pike x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 14.4k

Warnings: Oral sex (male and female receiving), vaginal sex, wildlife, secrets, werewolves, monster fucking, werewolf tongue, werewolf cock, rough sex, harsh sex, cream pie

Comments: You finally convince Marcus to take you up to his remote cabin in the mountains. Not realizing that there is something in the woods. Something that has Marcus chaining the cabin doors shut to keep out.

**Monster fucking! Don't like it, don't read**

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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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.

“Come on baby, it’ll be perfect. Me, you, alone for the first time in forever.” You plead your case over the phone, slightly annoyed that your boyfriend had to cancel yet another date but you don’t try to take it out on him. He’s the in-charge agent, the department head of Art Crimes. You know his job is stressful. “We can relax, sleep in.” You hum suggestively. “Spend all day in bed if we want to. I know you’ve been so busy, a weekend at that cabin of yours would be wonderfully refreshing for us both. I’ll even do all the cooking.”

Marcus smiles against the other home at the thought of you and him curling up in bed all day. Something neither of you have the luxury of due to your demanding jobs and Marcus yearns for that kind of intimacy. He pulls up the lunar chart to see when the full moon is. Shit, it’s on Saturday. He will be in transition all weekend. It’s only once a month but he has to be careful with his more feral nature around you. He bites his lip, wondering if he can lock himself out while he transitions. You are getting frustrated with him and he doesn’t want to make you walk away because he keeps flaking on you. You don’t know about his true nature and he wants to keep it that way. “Or not.” You say due to his silence and he can hear the disappointment in your voice and he knows he can’t say no.

“Okay baby. This weekend. You wanna come to mine on Friday after work and then we can head over there? Get groceries on the way? It’s not stocked up.”

You smile, relieved that he’s not blowing you off, afraid that he has been losing interest and is too much of a gentleman to break things off. “That sounds great, we can have a nice, quiet weekend getaway.” You are happy that there’s no chance of starting your period, it’s at least two weeks away so there can be a lot of sex. Having every intention of waking Marcus up with a blow job one morning. “I’ll see you on Friday, baby. Don’t worry about tonight,” you tell him, letting him hang up after a quick goodbye so he could get back to work.

****

Knocking on his door, you bite your lip. The bag slung across your shoulder is filled with lingerie and things to entice your boyfriend and you hope he enjoys the surprise. “Hey baby.” You smile when he opens the door almost as soon as you pull your hand back, like he had been waiting for you.

Marcus is nervous but he’s determined to give you a good time. He does love you. He hasn’t told you yet. He’s too afraid that if he gets too close, you will find out what he truly is. He smiles at you, hoping you don’t realize he’s been standing by the door. He takes your bag, leaning in to softly kiss you.

“Hey sweetheart. I’ve missed you.” He murmurs, “how was the drive over?”

“It was good.” You feel like Marcus’s scent has changed. It’s muskier, bolder than the normal scent he wears from body wash and cologne. Very primal and you like it. “I was daydreaming about this handsome hunk I’m going away with for the weekend.” You tease, giving him a playful wink.

Marcus inhales your scent and he swallows down the growl that threatens to work its way up his throat. He clears his throat and guides you inside. “You ready to hit the road or do you wanna use the bathroom first?”

“Oh, I probably should.” You lean in and press your lips to his. “I’ll be really quick.” You promise and rush off to the guest bathroom Marcus had down the hall. He’s perfect and you know that you want to tell him that you love him this weekend.

Marcus curls his fingers into fists, trying to stop himself from wanting to give in to the animalistic urges inside of him. The ones that want to claim you as his. He inhales deeply and carries your bag into the garage so he can place it in the trunk of his car. He has the padlocks and chains in the other bag along with his own overnight bag.

Washing your hands quickly, you come out of the bathroom just as Marcus comes in from the garage. “I’m ready whenever you are, baby.” You promise with a smile. “And I have packed a few surprises for you.”

Marcus bites his lip, smirking at you. “Yeah? I can’t wait to see ‘em. Come on. Let’s hit the road. It’s a few hours to get there and I don’t wanna get caught in Friday night traffic.” He opens the passenger door for you, helping you in and as he rounds the car, he exhales shakily, begging himself to be good this weekend. Once the car is out of the garage and he’s certain everything is locked, he hits the gas to get out of D.C.

“So I am hoping you have a grill.” You tell him once he’s off the Highway. “Maybe a couple of steaks tonight or tomorrow?” You ask.

“Rare.” Marcus nearly growls the request and your eyes widen slightly.

“Got it. You like your steak rare.” You laugh.

Marcus grips the steering wheel a little too hard and he cracks his neck. “I have a grill. Tonight maybe?” He suggests, his inner wolf growling at the thought of a rare steak. He pushes him down and turns on the radio to distract himself.

“Tonight is good.” Marcus seems a little distracted and you feel bad. Poor man has been overworked for months now. “Some red meat, Some wine, a little sex and then some sleep.” You reach over and lay your hand on his thigh. “Come back from the cabin a new man.”

Marcus chuckles nervously, “I hope.” He reaches for your hand to squeeze it and he brings it up his lips to kiss the back of it. “You’re too good to me.” He murmurs and he sighs when he lowers your hand to squeeze the gear shift with your hand in his.

Your heart melts. “I love you.” You blurt out. It’s not the romantic, sexy way you imagined telling him, but you don’t want him to doubt this for a second. You are completely head over heels for him. “I know it’s odd to say in a car, but I love you Marcus.”

Marcus is taken back by your confession and his heart melts, “I love you too.” He says, turning his head to look at you. “It’s - I wanted to tell you this weekend. Properly. Romantic. But I love you baby.” He smiles at you, kissing your hand again.

“I’m sorry.” You grin, not really sorry for it but you’ll pretend. “I just couldn’t wait. And I don’t know what it is, but you just seem….more dominate today. It’s really sexy and…” you break off, feeling slightly embarrassed by your confession.

Marcus swallows down the growl that threatens to make its way up his throat and he clears it, turning slightly to smirk at you. “Yeah? You like a bit of dominance?” He asks. Your love making so far has been just that. Soft and sensual since Marcus has been trying to conceal his true nature, even biting into the pillow when he has the urge to bite.

“Don’t get me wrong.” You hastily try to reassure him. “I love our sex life. I’m always satisfied with you.” The last thing you want is for Marcus to think you are unhappy. “I just know that exploration is always healthy in a relationship.”

Marcus flusters, knowing you want more from him. He wants to give you more but he’s afraid he’s gonna go too far, lose control. “I know. Maybe this weekend we can experiment a bit.” He compromises, knowing it might be good to let his more animalistic urges come out a little.

You don’t say anything, just lean over in your seat to kiss his cheek. “I’m going to make you the biggest, rarest steak I can find.” You promise happily. “We can split a bottle of wine. Get a little tipsy and then…” you bite your lip. “I want to suck your cock. Let you relax.”

Marcus groans, “you are too fucking good to me, baby. I- shit. I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” He says, flexing his fingers on the wheel as the urge to just pull over and claim you hits him again. The drive isn’t too long to get out of the city and soon enough Marcus is pulling up outside of his cabin in Virginia.

“I’m glad that little grocery store had everything we needed.” You had been impressed by the little country store. It seemed quaint, but inside was a good selection of food, obviously catering to people who weekend up in the mountains. “Oh this is so cute, Marcus.” You coo, taking in the rustic little one bedroom cabin. “No wonder you like to get away up here.”

Marcus smiles, trying not to frown because there’s a reason why he comes here. “Yeah it’s a nice place to escape from the hustle and bustle. I enjoy it.” He hums and kills the engine after parking the car. He gets out and scoots around the car to open your door, still a gentleman despite his biology. “Let me open up and then I’ll grab the bags.” He says and walks over to the door to open up the front door.

He seems distracted and you wonder if he was regretting bringing you. Perhaps his escape from the hustle and bustle also included you. You feel a little guilty for pushing him but you didn’t want to spend another weekend apart. “If you don’t mind, I’ll get started on dinner right away.” You offer.

“Of course babe.” Marcus smiles as he lets you in after unlocking the alarm and he prays you don’t see the scratch marks adorning the door. He should fix those but there’s been no point until now. No one else has ever come out here. He lets you in and rushes out to grab the groceries so you can start dinner right away.

It’s far more simplistic than you imagined and yet, it fits your boyfriend. “It’s rustic.” You remind yourself, knowing that it could be even more so. It could not have electricity or running water. The minimal furniture looks comfortable and you wonder if Marcus just reads or sleeps when he comes up here.

“Yeah it’s uh pretty basic.” Marcus says as he sets the bags down. He got sick of replacing furniture so it’s bare bones but it gets the job done. There’s no TV because he ripped that off the wall the first weekend he stayed in the cabin. “I’ll get our bags.” He says and kisses your forehead before he heads back out to the car.

You hum as you start to organize the groceries, pulling them out of the bags and you frown when you open the refrigerator door. The appliance was completely empty. No old jelly or even a left behind beer. “You weren’t kidding when you said it wasn’t stocked.” You shake your head, wondering if he just didn’t keep anything here or if he went out to a local restaurant while he was here. “At least we gave the pans and plates.” You tell him as he comes in. “I don’t mind basic at all. Better for snuggling up to you.”

Marcus leans in to kiss your hair, “exactly. I want this to be a good weekend.” He hopes that down to his core, and he murmurs your name as he takes the milk from your hand to put it away. He wants you to be comfortable here and he’s terrified he’s going to do something wrong. You soon get to work on making dinner and Marcus turns on the radio. “You want some help baby?”

“Would you fire up the grill?” You ask with a grin as you look up from the cutting board. Marcus had grumbled about the vegetables, although he normally is the one to want a salad. It’s cute though. “The steaks are ready to grill.”

Marcus nods, happy to do whatever you want. He wants to make sure you’re happy during your weekend, especially since he doesn’t want you to get suspicious. He playfully smacks your ass as he passes, driven by his instincts as he heads outside to get the grill ready.

“This is going to be good for us.” You smirk as you toss the salad together and take the steaks outside. “Thank you, baby.” You hum as he closes the lid on the grill, all fired up.

Marcus is a good cook, able to grill up some steaks and he makes his extra rare, the rumble in his stomach from both hunger and being restrained. He sets the steaks down on the table when they are done, thanking you for the wine you let breathe. “To us.” He toasts, wanting to make this a good weekend together.

“To us.” You had been surprised when he had taken over grilling, but you don’t complain. It makes it better, fixing a meal together. Cutting into your steak, you groan at the taste. “This is so good, baby.” You praise. “How is yours?”

“Perfect.” He practically growls, almost picking up the steak to tear into it with his teeth but he controls himself. The steak is barely cooked - a minute on each side at most. He tries to swallow down some salad but he’s so starved for meat he ignores most of it.

“Do you want some of mine?” You are startled by how quickly Marcus wolfs down his steak, but maybe he’s really hungry. “I’m stuffed.”

Marcus should tell you no but the steak looks too good so he reaches out to grab it with his hand, barely managing to grab a knife and fork to cut it when he wants to just sink his teeth into it.

“Next time I’ll get another steak.” You promise, smiling indulgently as you watch him eat. There’s something almost animalistic about his hunger and you wonder if he will carry that through to the bedroom tonight.

Marcus groans when he finishes the steak, his stomach full but it’s still not enough. “Thanks for the, uh, salad, baby.” He blushes as he looks down at his uneaten salad on his plate. “Sorry. I just really wanted steak.” He murmurs, cutting his gaze across the room.

“That’s okay.” You shrug and reach across the table to take his plates. “I don’t mind.” Standing up, you smirk. “I’ll get these washed up and meet you in the bedroom?”

Marcus nods, knowing it’s late. You left after work so it’s getting dark and he knows you want him. He can smell it on you. He wants you too, more than you could ever imagine. He growls softly under his breath when you walk into the kitchen and he stands up, not bothering to lock the doors. He will lock them later. He makes his way to the bedroom and works on stripping out of his clothes, leaving him in his boxers.

You bite your lip after you finish washing the dishes. You had let him take the bag into the bedroom, so you can’t surprise him with lingerie, so you just decide to strip down. Knowing that he would never think that was a bad thing. Quickly peeling off your clothes, you saunter towards the bedroom, eager to see his reaction to your need for him.

Marcus sees you as you enter the bedroom and his jaw drops. Fuck, you look delicious. He groans and his cock hardens in his boxers, shifting as he sits on the foot of the bed. “Fuck baby.” He murmurs, his dark eyes drinking you in and he swallows down the urge to grab you and make you his, mark you, claim you.

“I should have thought about getting out the lingerie before you came in here.” You admit, shrugging as you appreciate the possessive look in his eyes. He looks positively feral, like he just wants to eat you up and that makes your pussy throb. “Take off your boxers, baby. I want to suck your cock.”

Marcus groans, working fast to push his boxers down his legs and when you kneel in front of him, his heart pounds in his chest and he struggles to restrain himself. “Baby. You look so pretty like this.” He murmurs as you rub his thighs, looking up at him. He groans when you take his cock into your hand and he growls softly.

You aren’t sure why he’s so growly lately, but don’t mind it at all. The sounds shoot straight to your pussy and you feel yourself growing wetter. Smirking up at him, you keep eye contact as you lean in and press your tongue to the head of his cock.

“Fuckkk.” Marcus hisses, his fingers digging into the sheets and he tries to keep his eyes open as your hot tongue presses against the underside of his cock. “Fuck baby. You- shit.” He hisses, closing his eyes to keep control.

“I want you to relax.” You tell him when you pull your tongue away. Starting to slowly stroke his cock up and down before you take the head back into your mouth.

Marcus is tense, unable to help himself as he tries to control the beast within him. He doesn’t want to hurt you. It’s the last thing he wants. He struggles to not rip the sheets as you take him deeper into your hot mouth, your tongue pressed against him, and his eyes roll back when you hollow your cheeks. “Fuck baby. Jesus.” He hisses as he tries to keep his hips on the bed.

You moan around him and eagerly start to bob up and down on his cock. Wanting to feel the way his thighs tense against your breasts and he growls your name. Wanting to make him cum and fill your mouth.

“Fuck. Oh Christ. It’s so good, baby. Fuck, you’re so good to me.” He groans, his neck tensing as his cock twitches inside of your mouth. He moans your name, rocking up to push his cock deeper down your throat.

Marcus isn't overly thick, but he is long. The thrust up makes you choke slightly but you don't pull away. Making it your mission to take everything he wants to give you this weekend and beg for more. You want to make sure that this cabin and what happens in it is burned in his memory and tied to you. Letting go of his cock, you grip his thighs and let him fuck your mouth as you push down.

Marcus can’t resist, thrusting up into your mouth. He groans your name as you stay still, just letting him fuck your throat. “Fuck baby. I- I’m gonna - shit. Shit. Shit.” He hisses and his ass cheeks clench as his cock twitching, his cum hitting your tongue as you pull your head up.

Your whine is cut off by the cum flooding your mouth. It feels like he’s not cum in a year. Feeling him grab the back of your neck and hold you while his hips rock up. Your cunt is dripping at the rougher treatment. One hand slipping down and rubbing your clit as you swallow him down in big gulps.

“Fuck baby. So good to me.” Marcus hisses as you swallow every drop and his eyes open to find you rubbing your clit. Fuck, you’re so gorgeous. The sheet rips beneath his grip as he shakes through his orgasm. “Get - need to taste you.” Marcus growls as he shifts to lay down on the bed, his cock flopping from your mouth. “Sit on my face.”

You are never one who is shy about taking your own pleasure but this time it’s almost an order that you don’t want to take. To see if he would just grab you. Slowly straddling his chest, you don’t move any closer, looking down and caressing his cheek.

Marcus growls, unhappy with you not sitting on his face. He grabs your ass, fingers digging into your flesh as he drags you up his chest and over his face, his tongue diving in to slide through your folds. His growl is muffled as he samples your cunt and he sucks on your clit, ravenous for you.

Squealing in surprise, you grab onto the solid headboard to hang on as Marcus seemingly devours you. “Oh fuck, Marcus.” You moan, head dropping back and body rocking forward as he pulls you closer.

He is like a man starved, his tongue pushing into you as his nose presses against your clit. He groans your name even though you can’t understand it. He wants you. In every damn way he can have you. His fingers dig deeper, certain to leave bruises but he doesn’t care as he wants you to rock on top, take your pleasure.

You start to follow his silent command. Rolling your hips and grinding down onto his face like you are giving his face a lap job. In a way, you are, but you’re too busy massaging your tits while you moan his name again. “Marcus, oh fuck baby, your tongue is so deep.”

Your cry has him smirking against your pussy. His tongue is extra long when he’s close to the full moon and he’s glad he can use what he is for something positive. He groans into you, his nose pressed against your clit. He wants to hear you cry for him. He yearns to hear you scream.

Your eyes slip close and you whimper again and again as you rock your hips over his face. “Oh fuck baby, you’re gonna make me cum.” Panting as you get closer to the orgasm that is building up, your tongue gets looser. “I love you, oh baby, I want you, this forever.”

Marcus’s heart pounds in his chest at your words, loving how passionate you sound as you chase your orgasm. He groans as you rock faster, little whines escaping your lips and he curls his tongue, his fingers shifting to caressing your puckered hole between your cheeks after he spreads them.

“Oh shit.” Your eyes spring open in surprise. Marcus has never even ventured close to your other hole but you don’t mind, “please.” You whimper.

He understands what you need and he pushes his finger inside of you a little, desperately needing you to cum for him. He loves how you taste and how you sound when you cum.

When he slides his tongue deeper, you wail his name. Body convulsing and seizing up as you come apart. Your walls clench down around his tongue and you soak him with your juices.

Marcus laps you up, his cock now hardening at your orgasm. One of the perks of his composition is his ability to recover even as he gets older. "I fucking love you." He groans when you lift up off of him and he kisses your soaked thighs.

“I love you too.” You moan softly, giggling quietly at the post orgasm rush and wiggle down his body to press your lips to his. “Are you ready to fuck me, Agent Pike?”

Marcus nods, feeling loved and yet he’s still feral. Wanting to claim you but he channels his softer side to give you what you need tonight. “Lay down baby.” He says, lifting you off of him and you shift to lay down. He wastes no time kneeling between your legs, his hands sliding along your body until he’s cupping your tits.

Your legs drape onto his hips, eagerly wrapping around him and there’s something different about Marcus. He seems harder, sharper almost in the light of the cabin. Squeezing your tits until you gasp and arch up under his touch. “Take me, baby.” You moan.

Marcus pinches your nipples, getting a little rougher than normal. He shuffles closer on his knees and he grips his cock, pumping himself a few times. "My girl needs me to fuck her?" He coos, asking you as he jerks his cock.

“Yesssss, oh fuck yes.” You whimper, finding it incredibly sexy to watch this man stroke himself so confidently. Whatever is happening, you love it and it is making you desperate for him. “Please baby, fuck me. I need you inside me.”

He doesn’t torture you anymore, knowing he needs to be inside of you. He shuffles even closer to notch the head of his cock at your entrance after swiping it through your folds and he hisses as he pushes into you. You’re so wet. So hot. So tight. He is hesitant to be too rough but his instincts are telling him to just push deep and set a frantic pace until he cums.

The first thrust tells you that this time is going to be different. Marcus is a very careful and thorough lover. Always making sure that you are completely satisfied when you are done, but he’s very restrained. You can tell there are times that he wants to go harder or deeper and even though you assure him you can take it, he doesn’t give in.

He is feral, his chest heaving as he looks down at you. His eyes dark as he twitches deep inside of you. Usually he’d take his time letting you adjust to him but he doesn’t give you that luxury. He starts to move inside of you, harsh thrusts that makes your body jiggle.

Your eyes widen and your fingers dig into his shoulders as he starts to fuck you ruthlessly. Stealing your breath at the brutal pace that makes your entire body lurch up on the bed. “Fuck!” You scream, eyes rolling back from pleasure.

Your scream spurs him on, thrusting harder, his hands grabbing your thighs to lift them higher until he decides to push them back into your stomach. His weight pressing you into the mattress as he fucks you hard and fast. “Fuck baby. Fuck. Need you. Need this.” He growls, leaning down to lick along your neck.

You don’t know what possessed Marcus, but all you can do is cum for him. His cock hits something magical inside you and with a squeal, your walls clench down around him and soak him in a torrent of your juices.

“Fuckkkk.” Marcus hisses as you soak his stomach and pelvis with your cum, hot and wet and so fucking sexy. He hisses your name, thrusting a few times, hard and deep until his cock twitches as he cums inside of you. Painting your walls as he practically roars, unable to believe how good you feel.

It’s beastly and you are utterly captivated by the sight of Marcus, straining and grunting over you as he fills you up. The heat of his cum flooding your womb and making you moan.

Marcus kisses along your neck, refraining the urge to bite your neck. “So good.” He murmurs, “You’re so good to me.” He coos and you caress his back, “so good.”

“Baby.” You moan quietly, turning your head and kissing along his jaw. “I love you so much. That was- incredible.”

Marcus murmurs, “I love you too.” He nudges his nose against yours, trying to be affectionate and he stays inside of you but shifts to lay on his back, you on his chest. He strokes your back, knowing that once you’re asleep, he’s going to need to get the duffel bag from his car so he can prepare for midnight.

His heart is galloping in his chest and you hum, stroking his shoulder affectionately. “That was amazing.” You murmur before you yawn. “Wore me out.”

Marcus chuckles, “wore me out too, baby.” He murmurs, caressing your back as you relax on top of him. He can smell himself all over you and that makes him hum. He loves it. He loves you. “Baby, you want a snack or some water?”

“I’m good.” You purr quietly. “I’m going to go to sleep and wake up early to make sure that you get the best blow job you’ve ever had.”

Marcus snorts, “you already did that.” He kisses your hair, “but you can try to beat it baby.” He murmurs, “just go to sleep. I’ll clean you up.”

One of the best things about Marcus is his aftercare. You smile as you settle down against his chest and close your eyes. You have the best boyfriend in the entire world, one that you love.

Marcus lets you drift off to sleep before he rolls you onto your back. He pulls out of you and shuffles into the bathroom to grab a rag to clean you up. He works fast to clean you and covers you with the comforter. He kisses your forehead and makes his way into the bathroom to clean himself up. Exhaling heavily as he looks into the mirror, his fingers curl into the sink as he feels the moon is high in the sky. He needs to prepare and keep you safe inside.

****

You wake up to Marcus curled around you, his nose pressed against your neck and he is snoring like he's not slept in ten years. Your plans for waking him up to a blow job are temporarily on hold. He needs sleep more than he needs sex and you slowly slip out of his arms. You'll make some coffee and take it out to the porch so he can sleep.

Marcus had a long night. After you fell asleep, he grabbed his bag from the car and locked up the house, making sure you were secure before he chained himself to a tree a couple of miles away. He doesn’t really know what happened after midnight - he gets flashes during his sleep if it’s been a while since he’s transitioned - and last night was one of those times.

When you’re pouring a cup of the coffee, you hear Marcus whimper, making you frown as you look toward the bedroom. Deciding that he does need to rest more, you shut off your alarm before it can ring, a habit of your weekends to make sure you don’t sleep all day, and slip outside the door to the fresh morning air.

Marcus should wake up but he usually sleeps most of the day when he’s out here. Only coming here once a month when it’s needed. He curls into a ball, pulling your pillow close to breathe you in.

You sigh softly, smiling as you look out at the valley through the small clearing of trees. It really is a beautiful view, although you know you are quite isolated. There hadn’t been one light besides yours on the mountain last night. You turn back to check to make sure you closed the door and gasp loudly, almost a shriek. Deep gouges in the wood, resembling claw marks, decorate the door and frame. Many of them, as if some large creature was trying to get in. “Oh shit.” Your eyes start flickering around the woods surrounding the cabin as if you expect a creature to attack you right now.

Marcus doesn't stir until he hears your scream. He wakes with a fright and stumbles out of the cabin. "Baby. Baby. What's wrong?" He pants, still in his boxers and wondering if there's something else out there besides him.

You grab onto Marcus, turning him towards the door. “There’s something- it tried to get into the cabin!” You cry out. “Is it a bear? Did a bear try to break in?”

Marcus's eyes widen at the claw marks on the door. He tried to get in the door. He tried to get to you last night. That makes his heart pound as he steps out to look at the door frame. "Fuck baby. I- it was probably a bear. This has happened before. I - you're safe." he promises you, "I will keep you safe."

“Oh my god.” You shiver and reach out to touch the marks. “That’s a big fucking bear.” You tell him. Something seems odd, Marcus had nearly had a heart attack when he saw the marks. If it happened before, why does he look so upset? “Look!” You rush down the steps. “Tracks.”

Marcus is terrified that you’re going to find out his secret. He reaches for your shoulder. “It’s gone now. Probably smelled the food. Just - let’s go inside and have some breakfast. Probably a bear. It’s long gone, baby.” He says, trying to sound convincing.

Something about that sounds wrong but you don’t argue. Instead, you let him guide you into the cabin and close the door firmly behind the two of you. “Should we store the food differently?” You ask him, knowing he spends a lot of time up here. He would know.

Marcus shakes his head, “no. No. I don’t think that’s necessary. Why don’t we head inside and - God, I need a coffee, baby.” He tries to change the subject, his hand hovering on the small of your back to get you inside. He’s trying to keep cool but he is freaking out a little that the beast inside of him tried so desperately to get into the cabin…to get to you.

That does the trick, immediately distracting you from the animal marks on the door. “Oh baby, I’m so sorry, I woke you up.” You cup his face, feeling guilty about disturbing his sleep. “Let me go get you a coffee and I’ll start breakfast. You can lay down again if you want?”

Marcus softens and relaxes as you cup his cheek and he nods, reaching for your wrist and turning his head so he can press a soft kiss to your palm. "I'm up now sweetheart. Let's get a cup of coffee and we can work on breakfast together. I, uh, kinda just want bacon."

“Just bacon?” Your eyes widen dramatically. “Marcus Pike doesn’t want pancakes?” Teasingly, you touch the back of your hand to his forehead. “You don’t seem to be sick.”’

Marcus chuckles, "I just really want bacon." He confesses, knowing he usually loves pancakes but for some reason, he just doesn't want them today. He wants meat.

“Then bacon is what you will get.” You promise, leaning in and pressing your lips to his before you turn back to pour him a cup of coffee.

"You're too good to me." Marcus repeats for the hundredth time. He means it. You are too good for him. He's terrified of you finding out the truth. That's what sent his first wife running. He swallows harshly as you pour him a cup of coffee and he sits down at the kitchen table. "I thought maybe today we could go for a hike?" He suggests, knowing that the exercise might wear him out enough to not run too much at night.

“Sure.” You had expected to relax, but if Marcus wants to hike and show you some of the area, that’s fine with you. “I can make some sandwiches if you want? Or- no, we shouldn’t do that.” You decide. “We might attract that bear.”

Marcus doesn’t argue, wanting you to believe it’s a bear. He sips his coffee as he watches you cook. He offered to help but you told him to relax. Little do you know that it’s almost impossible since he is worried about the claw marks. He stands up when you set the bacon off to the side to drain and his hands find your waist, his lips on your neck.

“Hmmmmm.” Closing your eyes, you tilt your head to the side to give him better access to your skin. “I love when you kiss my neck. When you do anything to me, really.”

Marcus smiles against your skin, “me too. I mean, whatever you do to me…always so fucking good.” He murmurs and continues kissing along your neck, dragging the strap of your shirt down to kiss your shoulder. “Taste better than bacon.” He chuckles against your skin. “Delicious.” He says as he licks along your neck.

The hard length of his cock is starting to press against your back and you don’t mind it at all. Moaning softly as you grind back against him. He’s apparently in the mood and you aren’t going to discourage him. “Want a quickie while the food cools?” You pant out, wishing you could kiss him.

Marcus groans, grinding a little harder against you. He murmurs your name and spins you around, lifting you onto the kitchen table and he grabs the hem of your shirt, lifting it over your head. “So fucking beautiful.” He hisses as he looks at your tits, wasting no time ducking down to take a nipple into his mouth.

“Fuck, Marc-“ your moan is strangled as he attacks your breasts with a ferocious hunger. His hands grabbing your ass and sliding you forward to press against your core. You aren’t wearing panties, he had put a shirt on you but no panties so his boxers are starting to rub against your clit. “Fuck. Baby.” Your eyes close as you wrap your arms around the back of his neck. “Fuck me.”

He growls, low and deep in his chest as he squeezes your ass. Fuck, he needs you. His fingers trail down from your breast to your core, groaning when he finds you wet for him. He hisses your name and moves fast to shove his boxers down, his cock hard and aching for you already. It doesn't take much to get him going during the full moon. He grips his cock, pushing your thighs further apart with his free hand as he positions himself until he is pushing into you,

He pushes the air out of your lungs in a squeal. The full length of him pushing inside you until he is grinding deeper, as if he wants to burrow inside your cunt. Your legs wrap around his waist and your own kisses start to scatter over his skin. “Oh god, I don’t know what’s happening but I love it.” You whine, incredibly turned on by how rough he’s being.

His hands grab your ass, pulling you even closer, and he starts to move inside of you. Low groans escaping his lips as he rocks into you, hard and fast. His lips find yours, smothering both of your moans, and he hisses when you bite down on his lower lip.

There’s something unique about the way that Marcus is acting and you can’t sort it out. Not that you are trying very hard when your sweet and loving boyfriend is fucking you like his life depends on it. Making your entire body sing with pleasure.

He thrusts hard and fast, the kitchen table scrapping the floor below as he fucks you like aj animal. His hand comes up to grip the back of your neck, tilting it to expose the flesh to his gaze and he leans down, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin above your pulse.

“Ohhhhhh fuck.” You gasp out, shivering in pleasure and submission as you let him take what he wants. “Please.” You whimper. “Use me. Take me.”

Marcus grunts as he thrusts into you, his other hand finding your clit to rub harsh circles every time his hips pull back. It’s too much and not enough all at once. “Fuck. You feel - like a goddamn vice.” He groans as your walls flutter around him.

His voice is lower, raspier and it makes you whimper. All those times you claimed you didn’t care about dominant men going out the window as this man claims you. “Yours.” You promise. “All yours.”

“Mine.” He growls, unable to stop himself and he hisses your name as you clamp down on his cock. “Cum for me, baby. Cum for me sweet girl.” He demands, rubbing your clit a little faster and he bites down on your shoulder.

Shuddering, you can’t help but give him exactly what he wants. Crying out his name again, everything but the feeling of your cunt spasming leaves your thoughts.

Marcus hisses when you clamp down on his cock and soak him, your nails dig into his back but he doesn’t feel a thing. “You’re so - Jesus Christ. Baby. I’m gonna - you’re gonna make me. Oh fuck. Fuck!” He yelps as he cums, pushing deep to paint your walls again.

Panting, you kiss his sweaty skin as he rides out his high, lapping at his pulse tenderly and cuddling closer. “Fuck, I love you.” You whisper softly. “So much baby.”

Marcus pants as he comes to a stop, resting his forehead against yours. “Love you too. All of you.” He murmurs, wanting you to know that when he dreads you not feeling the same way about him. He’s terrified about you finding out his secret.

He clings to you for a moment and you smile as you pull away. “Me too, sweetheart. Now” you run your hand down his chest. “I need to get you fed.”

He sighs, pulling out of you, and he knows you’d never accept him, all of him. The darkest parts of him. He kisses your forehead as he steps away from you, bending down to pick up his boxers and pull them on. “I’ll get you something to clean up.”

“Handsome and helpful.” You tease, reaching out and slapping his ass as he turns around to get you a rag. “I’ll fix your plate of bacon.”

Marcus chuckles, making his way into the bathroom. He wets a rag and sees some tissues in the wastepaper basket. He frowns, bending down to pick them up and he gasps when he sees blood. “Shit.” He hisses, trying to figure out how to conceal them. He probably wiped himself off before he got back into bed with you after sunrise. He winces when you call him and he makes his way back into the kitchen.

“Breakfast is served.” You smile as you set the entire pack of bacon that you put on his plate in the spot where you moved his coffee. “Where were you thinking of hiking to?”

“I was thinking of going further up the mountain. There’s a really nice spot that looks out over the valley. I figured we could take a book or two and some drinks. Snacks should be okay. Bear likely won’t venture up that high.” He says, not wanting you to be concerned. “Thanks for the bacon baby.” He says as he hands you the rag.

“That sounds good.” You smile again, thinking that he’s the sweetest as you take the rag to clean up. “After breakfast, we’ll pack up and head off?” You ask, tossing the rag down after you clean up and sit opposite from him as he starts to wolf down the bacon with the same appetite that he had attacked the steaks last night.

Marcus is ravenous, chewing on the bacon like a rabid dog but he’s starving. He always tries to keep his meals to pure meat when he’s here but he suspects you might get suspicious of that if he doesn’t at least have some potatoes.

Watching him, you are slower to eat than he is, seeing a different facet of your normally mild mannered boyfriend. Pouring some syrup over your own pancakes, you cut into them and take a sip of your coffee.

Marcus groans as he finishes the entire plate. “Shit. Baby. I- I didn’t leave you - fuck. I’m sorry.” He shakes his head, feeling guilty that he ate the entire plate without you getting even a strip.

“That’s okay.” You wave off his concern and fork up another bite of your pancakes. “I’m happy with the pancakes and my coffee.” You don’t have anymore bacon, but you look towards the fridge. “Are you still hungry? There’s some eggs in there.”

Marcus bites his lip, not wanting to eat all the food that was bought for breakfast this weekend. "I'm fine." He lies, not wanting to take more than he needs, even if the beast inside of him roars for more.

“Are you sure, baby?” You ask, concerned because he is biting his lip guiltily. “I don’t mind cooking some for you. Or, I can make sure that I make you really big roast beef sandwiches for the hike.”

Marcus smiles, “a beef sandwich sounds good. Lots of beef.” He adds, his stomach already rumbling at the thought. God, he needs more food but he doesn’t want to take from you. He’s certain he will eat when he’s outside tonight. “Finish your breakfast honey. I’ll clean up.” He says, kissing your hair as he carries his plate over to the sink.

Marcus is so damn good to you. Happily, you dig into the rest of your pancakes and by the time Marcus is ready to wash your plate, you’re finished. Kissing him as he takes it from you, you move over to the fridge. “I’ll make the sandwiches really quickly and then get dressed.”

“Sounds like a plan sweetheart.” Marcus winks at you as he finishes washing up. “I’ll go shower real quick so you can take your time.” He kisses you softly as he walks by and he makes his way into the bathroom. He glances at the trash can and looks down at his hands, seeing the small scratches that you haven’t noticed yet. He turns on the shower, waiting for the water to get hot before he steps in.

Humming to yourself, you make thick roast beef sandwiches for the both of you. Yours is thinner and you make Marcus three sandwiches to your one. Sure that the hunger that he’s been displaying is going to continue on. You had brought a backpack and you toss the bag of sandwiches in there along with a bag of beef jerky you had as well.

Marcus gets out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist and comes into the bedroom just as you approach him. “Hey babe. I left more than enough hot water. Take your time.” He insists, “I’ll get the gear ready.”

“Sandwiches are done.” You promise, smirking at the way his chest is covered in droplets of water. “Give me ten minutes and I’ll be ready.” You just want to clean up and then throw on some hiking clothes.

Marcus nods, walking over to his case to grab the clothes he needs for hiking and he dresses while you shower. He knows these woods like the back of his hand and he knows you'll be safe with him. He is tying his boots when you come back into the bedroom.

“I’m so glad we got away this weekend.” You tell him, unwrapping your towel from around you so you can get dressed. “It’s beautiful here and I’m already in love with this place. I see why you try to spend time here every month.”

“Yeah. It’s gorgeous.” Marcus murmurs as he sits up, realizing he’s never really taken the opportunity to admire the area. He’s usually just been happy to have a secluded place to escape to. He picked this cabin because nothing is around it for miles. His eyes trail down your body as you grab your clothes and he bites his lip, cock twitching in his pants as he admires you.

Getting dressed, you lace up your own boots and turn towards him with a smile. “Ready whenever you are, handsome.” You admire the almost rugged look of him since he’s not shaved and turn to grab your backpack and water bottles.

Marcus nods, standing up as he makes his way into the kitchen to grab his backpack that you put the lunch into. “Come on baby.” He says, not bothering to lock the front door since the only dangerous thing out here is him.

Following him, Marcus leads you into the woods and you amble along behind him. Still a little nervous about the claw marks on the door, you don’t let him get more than a few steps in front of you. “Do you hike every time you come up here?” You ask. “Obviously not when it’s snowing, but ohhhh Marcus, I bet it’s gorgeous up here during the winter.”

“Not every time.” He answers your question as he follows a path he regularly takes when he does hike. “Sometimes I like to just relax and get away from the stress of work. If I’m at home, I’ll still check my phone and my emails. I’m totally at peace here. Like it’s where I’m supposed to be.”

“Maybe it is where you should be.” You could imagine it when he’s here. “Living like a mountain man. Chopping wood with your shirt off.” That thought makes you drool. “Too bad you can’t be an FBI agent from here.”

“Exactly.” Marcus sighs, stepping over a log and he turns back to hold his hand out towards you. “Careful.” He says as he helps you over it. He sniffs the air discreetly, checking for any danger. One perk of his composition and it definitely helps him in his job.

It's nice that even out here, he is such a gentleman. You squeeze his hand before letting go so he could continue to guide you deeper into the forest. "It's strange." You frown slightly. "I don't hear any bird or anything, do you?"

"No. It's - maybe there's a storm coming." He says as he looks up and ignores the fact that he knows exactly why the birds aren't singing. They always fly away when he is around, sensing his presence.

"Maybe that's it." You can accept that, although looking up doesn't do much beyond looking at the canopy. "Then we won't make it a long hike, just in case."

"Yeah." Marcus says, looking at the trees for another moment until he looks back at you. "Let's go. You gotta see this view." He offers you a grin and he makes his way through the trail he knows well until you are pushing through the bushes to a clearing.

"Oh Marcus." You gasp as you take in the view of the valley. Nothing but mountains and trees for as far as you can see. No roads that you can see. Really driving home how isolated you are. "This is- this is beautifully remote."

Marcus turns his head to look at you as you admire the view. He is in awe of how beautiful you look in the sunlight and he wishes he could take a picture. “I love you.” He blurts out, tempted to propose to you but he can’t. Not when you don’t know who he truly is. What he truly is.

Looking back at him, you smile. "I love you too, Marcus." He's sweet and his soft smile makes you fall even more in love with him. "Thank you for bringing me up here." You thank him again. "I know this is your fortress of solitude, but I feel like we are getting closer, you letting me in like this."

Marcus nods, stepping closer to you to wrap his arm around your waist. “I love you, baby.” He kisses your hair, “I’m glad I can share this place with you. It’s - it’s where I belong but life keeps bringing me back to D.C.”

“If you want….” You turn to look into his eyes. “I’ll come out here whenever you want to get away.”

Marcus nods, hesitant, but unable to say no as he looks at your beautiful face. He wants to tell you everything but he can’t. He can’t see those eyes that look at him with such love and affection turn into fear and disgust. “Wanna set up the blanket? Hiking has me starving.”

“Sure baby.” You agree quickly, sensing that something is bothering him. You pull out the blanket from your backpack and spread it on the ground. “You know…” you talk as you fuss with it. “Maybe this will become our little ritual.”

“Hopefully.” Marcus offers you a soft smile as he sits down after pulling off his backpack with your water bottles in it. “Maybe we can bring our kids here for family camping weekends.” You say and Marcus bites his lip. He doesn’t know if his condition is hereditary or not. His father passed away when he was a kid so he never knew if he had the same disposition. “Uh, yeah. Maybe.” Marcus clears his throat despite the idea of being a father making his heart swell with desire.

It’s not the response you were hoping for and you’re silent when Marcus pulls out the sandwiches and hands you the one you made for yourself. His are already in his hand. Instead of trying to keep talking, you concentrate on eating, looking out at the view.

Marcus almost feels too anxious to eat. Almost. The beast inside of him growls for more so he quickly demolishes the sandwich, moving onto the next one. “Damn. These are good, sweetheart.” He says, wanting to lighten the mood when he can sense you are upset.

“Thanks.” You don’t smile at him, finishing up your own sandwich and wiping your hands on your leggings. Maybe you were wrong about what Marcus wants and now you feel like you’re intruding on his space.

Marcus can sense that there’s something wrong. The change in the air is palpable and he hates that he can’t just tell you what he is, what he wants, how he feels. He sighs and crumbles up the bag after he finishes the last sandwich. “You wanna stay here or make our way back? I don’t wanna get caught in the storm.”

“That works for me.” You agree, biting your lip and wanting to ask Marcus if he feels like you’ve bulldozed your way into coming up here and butting into his personal time. “I think I’ll just read this afternoon if you want to nap. You didn’t sleep much last night, did you?”

Marcus is tempted to nap. That's usually what he does most of the day when he's here alone after a nonstop night. "It's so nice up here. We can come back up here another day." He says and stands up, brushing himself down and he holds his hand out towards you to help you up from the blanket.

There’s some comfort in his comment and you gladly take his hand. “Then it’s settled. I’ll read and get dinner ready, you nap.” You smile at the domesticity. “Any requests?” You had gotten a roast to put in the little oven but maybe he wasn’t feeling it.

“Anything meaty.” He chuckles as he packs up the blanket and the water bottles. “I’m lucky to have you, baby.” He says as you start to make your way back down the mountain.

“I’m glad you think so.” You admit quietly. “I was afraid I was being too pushy, asking to come up here. Intruding into your private time. I know we’re in a relationship, but I think you’re a man who likes to keep some secrets.”

Marcus tries to not react to how quickly you see right through him. He is terrified that you’ll find out the truth and run screaming away from him. “I’m a pretty open book mostly.” He chuckles, trying not to sound awkward, but failing as his stomach twists with anxiety.

“It’s okay to have secrets.” You promise him, shooting him a grin. “As long as it’s not a secret girlfriend or wife. Anything else, you tell me when you’re ready. I love you and accept you for who you are.”

Marcus closes his eyes and wishes that could be true. He knows you would never accept him if you knew he was a monster. “No secret, girlfriend, or wife.” He promises, with a chuckle. “Even I am not that good at keeping a secret like that. And you know how much of a commitment freak I am. Once I’m in, I’m all in. I don’t like cheaters.”

“I know.” You promise softly. “I don’t like cheaters either. That’s why we work so well together.” You wish you could reach out and take his hand, but that would be dangerous while on the trail. “I’m all in too. I hope you know that.”

Marcus offers you a soft smile and he walks ahead of you to help guide you through the trail. It doesn’t take long until you are in the cabin again, Marcus sitting down to take off his boots. “You want some coffee or water, babe?” He asks, wanting to look after you, reassure you that he wants to be there for you.

“Some coffee would be great.” You admit with a smile. “But don’t feel like you need to entertain me. I’ll get it.” You wave him away. “Go nap, you look tired, baby.”

Marcus is hesitant but he’s exhausted. He nods as he makes his way through to the bedroom, stripping off and groaning when he slides under the covers in the bed. He needs to rest before tonight. He’s learned that if he doesn’t nap, he’s especially ferocious when he turns. He falls asleep, unaware that you’ve headed out to the porch and he left the duffel bag on the porch.

You don’t want to move around too much, so you slip outside with your coffee and a book after getting the roast put in the oven. Sitting down and starting to read when you notice a bag off to the side. “Shit. I hope Marcus didn’t leave food in it.” You groan, hoping that it wouldn’t attract that bear. Setting your book down you move to pick it up, surprised when it’s really heavy. “What the hell?” You frown and unzip the bag, gasping when you see the heavy duty chains that are in the bag. Worried about why Marcus would have these.

Marcus is asleep, blissfully unaware of you finding the chains until he wakes up and comes into the kitchen. He sees your face and the bag on the floor and he tries to not react. “Sorry I slept so long.” He says, scratching the back of his neck as he prays you don’t ask about the chains.

You have a thousand different questions but can see that he’s not going to answer you. Or he will just lie to you. The fear in his eyes makes you wonder what the hell is going on. “That’s okay, babe.” You murmur softly, getting up and moving over to kiss him. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

Marcus can tell that you’re suspicious but he’s relieved that you carried on without bringing attention to it. He sits down at the table, watching you as you work around the kitchen to finish dinner. “You’re too good to me, baby.”

"Well....I love you." You have to admit that you've wondered if Marcus has something horrible planned for you, but it doesn't even seem to be in his nature. That doesn't mean you aren't going to pretend to be asleep tonight to see what he does. Not wanting to make him suspicious, but not fully trusting that something isn't going on. Why would he have such heavy chains? Unless he locks the cabin up with them, but you doubt it. You hadn't seen them when you arrived.

Marcus looks at you, “I love you too.” He says softly, wanting you to know that he does really love you. Especially when you cast a blind eye to the bag. He watches you as you cook and he decides to open the bottle of wine he brought with him. “Want a glass?” He asks as he holds the bottle up after getting it from the cupboard.

“Sure.” You smile at him as he holds up the bottle and you have no intention of drinking any of it. Wanting to keep yourself clear headed, but you also don’t want to make him suspicious. “It will go wonderfully with the roast.”

Marcus nods, grabbing some glasses to pour out a decent amount after he uncorks the bottle and he sets the glass down. Marcus smiles at you, grabbing the plates as you pull the roast out of the oven that just barely works. He should’ve replaced it but when he’s alone, he hasn’t bothered.

Once the table is set, you slice the roast up, making sure that you just put meat on Marcus’s plate. He seems to be craving a carnivore diet and you sit down opposite his chair. “Sit down, let’s eat, baby.”

Marcus can’t help himself. He digs in before you manage to sit down with your own plate. He groans as he practically inhales the meat. “Jesus, this is amazing.” He groans as he takes a break.

You hum softly, having taken a lot less meat and filled your plate with veggies. “Want the rest of the meat babe? I made sure there’s plenty.”

Marcus finishes the plate in record time. Pushing it away once he’s done and he wipes his mouth. “Thank you babe. It was delicious.” He picks up the glass of wine, noticing that you haven’t touched yours. “You don’t like the wine?”

"No, it's -" you shake your head. "I'm sorry, my stomach is a little off kilter." You shoot him an apologetic look. "I don't think I should risk it, you know?" It's a plausible excuse for not drinking and it shouldn't make him suspicious.

Marcus nods, never one to force anyone to drink. He respects your decision so he stands up to grab you a bottle of water. “Here you go, baby.” He says and sets it down. You thank him and he sits back down while you finish eating. “I was thinking we could make some s’mores after this.”

"That would be good." You agree, knowing you would be happier if you had none of the suspicions, but it's alright. You'll build a fire and roast some marshmallows before claiming you need to sleep. To see what will happen when you are vulnerable.

****

You’ve been quiet. Marcus has noticed it and he is a little concerned. You had sat there and watched while he started the fire, only saying a few words while you cooked the marshmallows. “Are you okay, baby? You feel sick still?” Marcus asks once you’re back inside and getting ready for bed.

"I think I'm just going to pass out." You admit with a sheepish grin. One that you hope is believable. "I'm sorry that I'm putting a damper on the rest of night."

Marcus shakes his head as he sits down on the bed. “Don’t be silly, baby. It’s okay. I know you’ve not felt great. Best to get some rest.” He says as he pulls his shirt over his head. He’s gonna get into bed with you and then he’ll sneak out.

You finish getting ready for bed, trying to downplay your nervousness and you sigh softly when Marcus curls around you. "Goodnight, sweetheart." You whisper softly, hoping that he will believe that you fall asleep quickly so you can figure out what he is doing with those chains.

Marcus kisses your neck, “goodnight.” He breathes you in, sensing when you fall asleep in his arms. He gently shifts away from you, getting out of bed. He doesn’t bother redressing as he makes his way out of the cabin after picking up the duffel bag.

When Marcus had slipped from the bed, you had barely managed to keep from reacting. Tensing when you hear the slight clanking of the chains in the bag but you don't get up. You don't even open your eyes. Hearing him open the door and only then do you sit up. Wondering why he is going outside when there is a large, dangerous creature out there.

Marcus works fast to lock you in the cabin. He doesn't want the beast to try and get in, to try and hurt you. He can feel how high the moon is in the sky. He doesn't have long. He exhales shakily, locking the padlock in place just as he feels his spine start to dislocate. He howls, unable to stop himself as the transformation begins.

You shiver, hearing the howl so close to the house and fear trickles down your spine. Biting your lip and frowning. Marcus is out there and when you walk into the living room, you see the case with his gun locked inside still there. Moving to the door, you push the door open but it doesn't budge. "Marcus!"

Marcus is no longer outside. In his place is the beast he tries to contain. This cabin has been his sanctuary, the place he allows the beast to roam free to satisfy his primal urges. It helps him maintain control and right now, Marcus is not in control. He roars and arches his back as he fully transforms into the werewolf he was cursed to be from his father.

You hear monstrous sounds outside and your blood runs cold. Something is out there and your boyfriend can't protect himself. "Marcus!" You scream, shoving against the door again and again without it budging. Frantic, you turn to the shuttered windows beside the door and quickly unlatch one, opening it up and unlocking the window. You can't let him be out there alone. It's your fault. You were worried about the bear and he's locked you into the cabin, putting himself in danger.

Marcus growls, hearing a click and he doesn't have the recognition to know that you are calling his name. He wouldn't respond anyway. He's no longer the Marcus you know. He roars again, running into the clearing in front of the cabin.

Once you are on the porch, you realize exactly how bad of an idea this is. The howling of an animal makes you jump. Unable to move when a creature, a monstrous beast, breaks into the clearing. Seven feet tall when it stands on his hind legs. It looks like something out of a horror movie. A werewolf.

The wolf sniffs, turning his head towards you, and he moves fast to come over to you. Your scream echoes in the clearing and the beast slows down, slowly approaching you. You’re frozen in place, wheezing as you try to breathe but can’t. He comes closer until you can see the eyes.

You would have said that werewolves didn't exist. They were myth and legend. Designed to scare. However, you can't deny the large wolf-like creature in front of you. Larger than any wolf you've ever seen in real life and oddly humanoid in the way it can walk on its back legs. When you see the eyes, you gasp. You know those eyes. You've looked into them. Suddenly, the isolated cabin in the mountains and trips by himself make sense. "M-Marcus?"

He sniffs, innately recognizing you, and he leans closer to sniff you. His eyes widen and he whimpers, lowering his head towards you. Deep inside, Marcus is still there and he’s begging himself to keep you safe, to not scare you. He’s terrified you’re going to get in the car and run away. He wouldn’t blame you but he prays you don’t run.

"Holy shit." Your hand claps over your mouth as you stare at the creature that is apparently....your boyfriend. As if you are drawn to him, you take a step closer. The idea of diving back into the cabin disappearing as you try to rationalize this. "Oh my god.....you're a were-werewolf."

Marcus whimpers again. He loves you. He nudges his nose towards you as he bends over, the beast in him recognizing you as the woman he loves. You raise your hand, it’s shaking, and Marcus nudges his nose against your palm. “Oh my god.” You choke out, your fingers tangling into his fur and you shiver as you pet the wolf that your boyfriend had turned into. “How is this- oh my god.” You gasp in awe.

He can’t believe you’re accepting the beast inside of him. The moon is high in the sky and he whimpers softly once more, licking your hand as you turn your palm over.

“I have so many questions.” You murmur, laughing to yourself. “But you can’t answer them right now. No wonder you’ve been craving meat. I can’t believe this.”

Marcus knows he has a lot to answer but for now, he needs to let the beast roam free. He nudges your palm again before he steps back, standing at his full height, he roars out a warning for anything nearby before he steps back and runs off. He disappears through the trees, needing to run off his energy before sunrise.

“Oh my god.” You sink down onto the porch steps, nearly shaking with the knowledge that Marcus is a mythical creature. “I’ve been fucking a werewolf.” You huff out, surprised that the idea of that doesn’t horrify you like it should. You’ve seen the cheesy pornos that disguise themselves as werewolf movies. The beast taking the helpless woman under the moonlight. The thought of it is oddly erotic and you shake your head, even as you stand up to peel off your clothes.

Marcus runs for a minute until he circles back to the cabin. He enters the clearing to find you standing there, naked. His growls echoes through the forest and he approaches you slowly, confused about what you want.

You swallow nervously, wondering if this is such a good idea. Not sure how much of Marcus is conscious inside the werewolf. Or if it’s just pure animal instinct. “Hey baby.” You coo softly, calling him to you.

Marcus sniffs, smelling the arousal on your body and he is certain that you want him but he’s terrified he’s reading you wrong. He slowly approaches you until he’s close enough to touch you. His tongue comes out to lick along your neck as he bends over you.

“Oh fuck.” You gasp, unused to how rough his tongue is as it laps against your skin. Its warm and wet, making you shiver as the wind blows and cools your skin down. “I- if there’s something you want, I want it too.” You murmur quietly. “I don’t know- are you, do you - have you ever….” You trail off, embarrassed and unsure if he even understands you. “Have you ever fucked someone when you’re in this state?”

Marcus shakes his head, an intrigued whine escaping his mouth as he nuzzles your skin. He whimpers, licking you again but lower, his tongue flicking over your nipple.

“Ohhhhhh.” You moan at the contact and your fingers slide though his fur again, Rubbing his muzzle.affectionately. “I don’t know if you understand, but I love you.”

Marcus does understand, deep down, and he loves you more than anything. Especially when you are accepting him. He slides his tongue along your skin, tasting the salt and sweat and you are delicious but not in an edible way. He can’t get enough of you as he licks and licks at you, flicking his tongue over your nipple.

“Marcus.” You moan again, letting him lick at your skin, feeling yourself getting wetter by the moment. You will let him do whatever he wants, understanding that he’s the dominant one in this encounter. “I want all of you. Even when you are like this.”

Marcus knows he has to be gentle, he’s never been with anyone in this state. Isolating himself. He’s not even sure if he can but he wants to make you feel good. He shifts to kneel down, his tongue sliding along your leg until his muzzle is pressed between your thighs.

“Ohhhhh.” Human Marcus is a very generous lover, never hesitating to go down on you and make you cum. Actually enjoying it rather than just doing it because he feels like he has to like some of the men you had dated. You don’t know why you are surprised that wolf Marcus is nuzzling at your cunt to spread your legs wide for his tongue

When your tangy arousal hits his tongue, he groans deep in his throat and his tongue slides deeper. His werewolf tongue is longer so he pushes deep inside of you, curling deep until his muzzle is pressed against your folds. He is unable to believe you trust him enough to do this. That you love him enough to do this.

“Fuck!” You Yelp when his tongue pushes deep and your fingers grip his hair tight. “It’s so- fuck your tongue is so long like this.” You whine, rolling your hips down onto his muzzle even more, begging for him to continue. “You don’t have to.” You add, knowing that you don’t need to force him to do something he doesn’t want because you’re curious.

Marcus - the beast - wants you to cum. His clawed hands grab your hips, rocking you on top of his muzzle as his wet nose presses against your flesh, his tongue curling deep until he growls, wanting to feel you fall apart above him.

It doesn’t take long with that tongue curled up and reaching every inch inside your cunt. Your cry hoarse as you start to shake and tremble, holding onto the large creature while your legs nearly give out.

Marcus growls as you cum, lapping up every drop like the hungry beast he is. His claws dig into your flesh a little and he laps at you until you’re pushing on his muzzle. He doesn’t know what you want next but his cock is hard. Not like his human cock, this one is bigger, hanging hard between his hairy legs.

“Oh fuck.” Your eyes widen slightly when you see his hard cock sticking up when the creature rocks back. “That’s….impressive.” You’re dripping wet from your orgasm and his tongue and you cunt clenches at the thought of taking this monster inside you. “On my hands and knees.” You mutter to yourself as you kneel down on the ground in front of him. “Unless you want my mouth on you?”

Marcus growls, shaking his head, and he snorts, not wanting you to put your mouth on him when he’s in this state. He kneels, his claws digging into the dirt as he shuffles behind you, his large cock pressing against the back of your thigh.

“Oh fuck.” You have a feeling you will be saying that a lot. Still, you push back against the wall of fur encouragingly. “Take me.” You whimper. “I’m yours.”

Marcus doesn’t hesitate, sensing how much you want him, he can smell it on you. He growls and leans close, his cock nudging your ass a few times until he’s able to notch it at your entrance. Animal instincts take over as he pushes deep without giving you a moment, his roar echoing through the trees.

Your choked cry is nearly silent, unable to breathe as the wolf fills you beyond anything you’ve ever had before. Feeling like he’s pushed up into your throat. It hurts and feels amazing all at the same time until you feel like you’re going to pass out.

Marcus hisses, the tight cunt around his cock is wet and hot and it drives him deeper into the animal inside of him. His claws dig into the ground as he braces himself so he can thrust even harder into you. He growls, teeth flashing under the light of the full moon when he sets a harsh pace.

You’re being fucked by a werewolf. At least the movies have the animalistic pace right, the wolf slamming his cock into you so harshly it’s pushing you up along the ground. Scrapping your hands and knees. Still, you don’t cry out for him to stop. Loving the roughness of the animal.

He is rough, unrelenting as he thrusts deep and hard. Marcus would’ve slowed down, sensing your discomfort but the wolf only wants to hear you cum, wants to cum himself. His fur presses against your ass with each thrust, growls escaping his muzzle as he leans down to press his nose to your back, inhaling your scent.

You feel the hot breath of the wolf on your neck. Making you gasp as you rock forward again. Your fingers digging into the dirt as he takes what he wants, filling your cunt again and again. At least his cock isn’t covered in hair, you don’t know if you would have done that. “Ma-Marcus!” You Yelp when he hits something deep inside you.

Hearing his name spurs him on. Hitting that spot again and again, it’s feral and beyond comprehension. Marcus has given way to the beast inside of him and he wants you to cum. His teeth scrap over your neck, his hot breath puffing over you as he thrusts again and again.

“Ohhh, oh fuuuuuuuuck.” Feeling his teeth in your neck sends you over the edge. The danger makes your entire body burst in pleasure as your pussy tries to clamp down on the beast’s cock. Feeling him drill into you as you gush around him and soak him in your cum.

Marcus growls into your skin, almost a roar that echoes into the forest as he keeps fucking into you. His cock twitching as he gets closer to his own orgasm. Grunts escape along with snarls until he finally pushes deep. His roar reverberates as his cock pulses while he fills you with his cum.

You almost black out with pleasure. Collapsing into the dirt and unable to move as his thick cum pushes out of you with every rock of the beast’s hips. “Fuck”

Marcus pumps himself through his orgasm and he hisses when you slump down into the dirt and he licks along your neck, tasting your sweat. He whimpers, lost in the haze of pleasure as he laps at your skin.

“‘m good.” You slur out against the ground. “I-god.” You can’t help but start to breathlessly chuckle, unable to believe that this happened. You can feel it, you’ll feel him for days. “Love you.” You murmur, hoping Marcus can understand that in his current state.

Marcus whines softly, able to let you know the beast feels the same, and he slowly pulls out of you. The beast takes full control again as he sniffs you, a pleased whine escaping his lips as he smells you covered in his scent. He stands up on his hind legs, a howl echoing in the valley before he runs for the tree line, the beast taking over.

It takes you some time to be able to move again, literally crawling over to the steps before you can get off the ground and you wonder if it will be morning before Marcus changes back to his human form. You climb back in the window, sure that you will need a long soak in the bath after this.

Marcus runs around until he feels the sun starting to rise and his beast gives up control to allow him to transition back to his human form. He ends up unlocking the house and comes inside to find you asleep, no doubt worn out from the rough treatment. He showers and slides under the covers, curling around you.

You hum softly, stirring when you feel the warmth at your back. “Marcus?” You ask, hearing him hum.

“Go to sleep, baby.” You know he’s tired after running around all night, so you snuggle back into his embrace and close your eyes again.

Marcus is snoring as he lays on his back, your head on his chest as you sleep until his snort wakes you up. You kiss his chest, listening to his heartbeat as he rests after an active night.

He doesn’t look any different than he normally does, just as handsome as you’ve always found him but you feel like you are closer. You know his secret and you lean forward and kiss his chest gently. “Man or wolf, I want to be with you.” You whisper.

He wakes up to you cooking. The smell makes his stomach grumble as he sniffs the air. Last night hits him, memories of you taking him as the wolf make his heart pound and he is desperate to talk to you but he also wants to run away in case you regret it. Deciding to face it, he gets out of bed and pees, brushing his teeth before he makes his way into the kitchen.

“Morning.” You smile as you look up to find Marcus creeping into the kitchen. “Breakfast is almost ready but the coffee is made.” He’s got a strange look on his face, so you don’t make a joke about moving a little slow because of last night. That seems like it might spook him. “I made steak and eggs. I don’t know if you still need a lot of meat.”

“I, uh, will probably have one more day. The moon cycle…I only need meat when it’s a full moon.” He reveals, “and I’m starving.” He chuckles softly, shifting to sit down as you watch him. “I- about last night….” He trails off, terrified that you’re going to hate him.

“I found out why you come up to the cabin alone.” You fill in, biting your lip and swallowing slightly. “I didn’t- you don’t think I’m crazy, do you? After- well, because of stripping down and basically begging a werewolf to fuck me?”

Marcus stares at you. “You think you’re crazy? After you- baby, I’m a fucking werewolf.” He chokes, “and you - you didn’t run or try to shoot me. You’re not crazy. I am. Because - because I cannot believe you trusted me. You didn’t run away. You accepted me.” His eyes sting with unshed tears, “you loved me when I was - I am a monster.”

“You aren’t a monster.” You frown, setting down the spatula and moving the pan off the stove so you can move over to Marcus. “You are an amazing man. I have questions, of course I do, but the fact that you are a werewolf doesn’t change who you are every time the moon isn’t full.”

Marcus sniffs, tears sliding down his cheeks and he shakes his head. “I- my father - he was the same. It’s only during the full moon. It’s why I come here to allow the beast to be free. If he’s free during this time, I get control the rest of the time.” He explains croakily.

Reaching out, you wipe the tears away and move so you can sit in his lap. Your pussy is sore but you ignore it to wrap your arms around his neck. “So….does that mean that our kids would be like you?” You ask curiously.

“I don’t know. That’s why- it’s why I’ve been so hesitant to take the next step with you. To be all in when you discuss kids. I- I don’t know if they’d be like me. If it’s just on the male side or if a daughter would be the same. I didn’t - I know you wouldn’t want to take that risk.” Marcus chokes, burying his face in your neck.

The man who turns into a beast, one that could kill you, kill anyone, is crying into your neck as you rub his back. “Baby….I love you. I know that you would protect our kids if they did turn.”

Marcus pulls back to look at you, his lower lip trembling. “You- you don’t want to run for the hills?” He asks and when you shake your head, he reaches up to cup your cheeks. “I love you. More than anything in the world. If you want to be mine. I’ll marry you next week. I want to have babies with you. I’m all in.” He promises, nudging his nose against yours.

“I’m all in too.” You promise softly. Marcus might be a werewolf, people may tell you that you’re crazy, but you’d rather howl at the moon with him than risk losing him. “Let’s eat breakfast and then we can spend the day in bed and you can tell me about all of this while my poor little pussy recovers so the wolf can have me again tonight.”

Marcus kisses your cheek softly, “you don’t have to. I can lock you in. He won’t get to you. I won’t get to you.” He promises, wanting to make sure that you’re safe. “You don’t have to do that again if you don’t want to.”

You squirm slightly, biting your lip. “I liked it.” You admit quietly, sure that he will think you’re crazy. “It was….feral. I loved how possessive you were last night.”

His cock twitches beneath you, unable to hide the fact that he likes that you liked it. “I was not in control. The beast…he wanted to claim you. He wanted to mark you as his.” Marcus confesses, “I wanted to make sure you were mine.” He admits the more feral side of him.

“I’m yours.” You promise, kissing his lips and grinning at him. “Whenever the beast wants me, he can have me. Whenever you want me with you when you change, I’ll be here.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before we came out here. I just - I didn’t want to lose you. I love you baby. I love you. I want to be yours and be with you. If you’ll have me.” He says softly, kissing your hair.

“Of course I will.” You giggle quietly and turn his head to press your lips against his. “You, me and the moon make three.” You tease. “I love you and your alter ego.”

Marcus chuckles at your teasing and he nudges his nose against yours. “I love you, baby. So much. I want to spend the rest of our lives together. Have a family together. You’re everything to me…to us. I love you.” Marcus murmurs, kissing you softly again. He never imagined he’d find a woman who could ever love the monster inside of him but he found you. The woman he loves who accepts all of him, even the wolf. He couldn’t ask for more.

#pedro pascal #marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike smut #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike imagine #marcus pike fanfic #werewolf!Marcus Pike #werewolf au #monster fucking

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sin-djarin · 7 months

Text

Personal Day (Marcus Pike x F!Reader)

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!Reader

Rating: M. MDNI.

Word Count: 680

Warnings: Mention of morning wood, my typos and grammar, no physical descriptions of reader other than them having hair, no use of y/n.

Summary: Marcus wants his way on a winter morning.

A/N: Autumn has well and truly arrived where I am. This was written on my phone while I was angry about having to go to work in the rain yesterday and so have some Marcus fluff.

Pulling back the curtain, the torrential rain still hasn’t stopped. It lulled you to sleep last night but continues to fall from an inky black sky this morning. The type of rain so heavy that it threatens to take lumps out of the sidewalk it falls on. The streetlight illuminates the sheets of it that are driven by gales of wind that are going to cut you in two once you step outside.

The clock on the nightstand reads 5.55. A yawn takes over and forces a shiver through your body covering you in goosebumps and making your teeth chatter. It took every morsel of energy and willpower to drag yourself to where you stand, planning on how you'd escape the wintery showers throughout the day.

The small sliver of light that you allow in for a moment is cast over Marcus lying peacefully in your bed. His eyes are still shut, and the white covers are pulled high up to his chin, rising and falling slowly in time with his deep breaths. The bitter winter air will have already made your side of the bed freeze in the seconds it’s been since you left it. And him.

You let the heavy fabric close and the room is drowned in almost total darkness again apart from the screaming red LED lights on the clock reminding you of the ungodly hour of the morning. You quickly tiptoe over to the nightstand to pick up your phone to start your day.

His fingers catch yours just as you turn to head to the bathroom. They’re warm - hot compared to yours that had already been bitten by the frosty air that crept into the room overnight. It’s a lazy grip that he’s braved the cold for.

“Gimme five minutes?” he mumbles drowsily into his pillow.

Your eyes haven’t quite adjusted to the dark, but you can hear the rustling of the linen as his arm lifts the heavy covers off him to entice you back into the bed.

You know you shouldn’t indulge him, that he'll make it all too easy to fall back into a deep sleep. But when the heat his body has created meets your bare legs, it’s too tempting, too cold to say no, and you clamber back into his side of the mattress and give in despite the risk.

Marcus quickly clamps the duvet shut around both of your bodies and you mold yourself into him, nestling into the crook of his shoulder. He splays one hand between your shoulder blades while the other cradles your head. You’re both chest to chest and skin to skin. Both safe from the elements outside, wrapped up in the sheets and each other.

Every part of him radiates heat that’s yours to consume. Wanting more, you slip your hand under the soft cotton of his t-shirt and a tiny "ooof" leaves his lips at frigid temperature of fingertips against his back. But he’s undeterred by the cold that already had the chance to touch your skin before he did. His leg hair tickles, brushing over your soft calf as he drapes his leg over yours to pull you further into him, determined to help you absorb as much of his body heat as he can.

“What did you dream about?” he muses and you can feel the stands of your hair stick to the stubble on his chin he has yet to shave away as he speaks above you.

“I don’t remember” you tell him.

You’re thawing out now and melting deeper into him. Your goosebumps all but gone thanks to him. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your cheek, the fresh scent of his body wash from last night’s shower filling your nose and the lashing rain off the windowpane means it’s not long before your eyelids succumb to the coziness and serenity of it all and fall heavy once again.

Another gust of wind forces the downpour to pelt of the glass and the strong muscles of his arms draw you tighter against his torso, his erection pulses against your lower belly.

“Take a personal day. We can just…” he drifts off. “Listen to it”

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike fanfic #marcus pike x you #marcus pike #marcus pike fluff #marcus pike oneshot #the mentalist #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal character x female reader #pedro pascal character

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rosepascal · 2 months

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💌friends to lovers with marcus pike, please?? he's the best and deserves the world

I've been in a Marcus pike mood lately so I'm very excited to write this <3

summary: You want to ask Marcus out but you can't bring yourself to do it.

Having a crush on your coworker is one of the worst ideas you've ever had. Though it's not like you had a choice in crushing on one Marcus Pike. When you heard about the new guy transferring from Texas you thought nothing of it.

Until he walked through the door. He wasn't your typical cocky FBI agent. He was sweet and kind but he held a sadness in his eyes. He disappeared quick as he was assigned to an undercover op soon into his transfer but after he came back you realized his office was right next to yours.

He often came over to ask questions, feeling sheepish about bothering you so much. You didn't mind though. He respected you and your advice which you appreciated. Your friendship blossomed when he started coming to your office for lunch. Often bringing you something from the cafeteria when you were too busy to eat.

You learned he was engaged before he came here and it didn't end well and that after half a year he's ready to get back out there. Well maybe you're his chance to do that. You hope.

In your hands you have two tickets to the after hours event at the National Gallery of Art, the one Marcus mentioned two weeks ago. they were incredibly hard to get but you got them. Now you just had to ask Marcus.

Why is it so nerve-wracking? All you had to do was go next door and ask him. But all you could think about was the things that could go poorly. What if he says no? What if he already has a date and is going? What if he tells you he actually hates you and never wants to speak to you again?

Okay that last one was a bit dramatic but still. You really liked Marcus. Like really liked him and you don't know if you could handle it if he rejected you. But it's been eating you alive so at this point you just have to rip off the band aid.

Getting out of your chair you hold the tickets and walk to his office. Eyes glued to the ground as you practice in your head what you want to say.

Marcus do you want to go out with me?

Marcus-

You run into a very firm chest and hot coffee. You drop the tickets and the coffee falls onto the chest of the man you ran into. Looking up you see Marcus with a worried look on his face, coffee dripping down his shirt.

"Are you okay?" He takes your hands and checks for burns. You barely got any coffee on you but he needs to be sure.

"Marcus are you okay? You have coffee all over your shirt." He waves you off.

"Don't worry I have a second layer under this." Once he's sure you aren't hurt he relaxes. He bends down to pick up what you dropped. Suddenly you feel a panic wash over you.

"Wait don't-"

"The National Gallery..." He reads the tickets and you sigh. Fuck it.

"I got them, for us." His face lights up with that boyish smile

"Really?"

"As a date." You reveal. You can barely look at his face as you finally ask him.

"Do you want to go. On a date. With me?" You wait for the worst possible outcome, but it never comes. His face breaks out into a big smile.

"Well," He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out two identical tickets. Your face breaks out into a smile as Marcus pulls you closer to him.

"Looks like you beat me to it."

#pedro pascal #marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike fanfic #send a valentine

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thetriumphantpanda · 6 months

Text

I'll Crawl Home To Her | Marcus Pike

Fic Summary | Marcus Pike had been the man of your dreams until a promotion tore your away from him. Four years later, a wedding brings you back together, but it the bubble you've built over this one weekend going to crash and burn just like it did before?

Pairing | Marcus Pike x Bridesmaid F!Reader

Fic Warnings | Explicit. Exes to Lovers, themes of second chance love, references to food and alcohol, descriptions of a wedding, Marcus Pike being a dirty talking menace, talk of contraception, unprotected PiV sex, creampie, semi-public sex, oral sex (F), overstimulation if you squint, allusions to oral sex (M) and mentions of a facial cumshot, mutual pining, flirting, two idiots in love, a touch of angst, basically two idiots who never got over each other have a lot of sex over a weekend.

Word Count | 7.9K (I can only apologise lmfao)

Authors Note | So, two weekends ago I was a bridesmaid and spent the entire time messaging @undercoverpena about how I wished Marcus Pike would whisk me away to the bathroom, tell me how pretty I was and give me a good time.... and this is what's come of this. Entirely self-indulgent but we love that for me sometimes. If you enjoy this, please consider commenting or reblogging - I'd love to know what you think of it! And if you'd like to support me further, you can donate to my Ko-Fi.

Moodboard is for aesthetic purposes only - reader is a blank slate. Although if you're interested in the dress I chose for her - it's this.

Divider by the amazing @saradika

Please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs for writing updates.

Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi.

“I’m sorry, Mike,” Marcus is still out of breath as he clutches the champagne flute in his hand, chest heaving as his sucks in air to his lungs, “I didn’t mean to be so late.”

“Marcus, buddy, it’s fine,” His friend puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder, he knows Marcus gets anxious when things outside of his control happen, like the delay to his flight from D.C. to London, and then the delay in getting from London to the wedding venue, “You’re here now, that’s all that matters.”

Marcus nods, chugging down half the champagne in one go, hoping it’ll calm his anxiety a little. He had cursed Mike and Cassie for choosing to have their wedding in England, but Mike’s family, most of them ageing now and unable to make the long trip to D.C. had insisted on it. As he looks around the large reception room, he muses internally to himself that it was beautiful. A huge room, semi-decorated for tomorrow’s reception and dinner. It’s a smaller affair tonight, immediate family and friends for the rehearsal dinner, but he can imagine that tomorrow, once all is said and done, it’ll be the perfect backdrop for their wedding.

“Where’s Cassie?” Marcus asks, looking around the room, finding a distinct lack of the bride and the bridal party Mike hadn’t shut up about over the last few months.

“She’s just sorting the last of the decorations for the ceremony room,” Mike explains, waving a hand to the waitress currently doing the round with a refilled tray of champagne, “She’ll be here soon.” He finished with a wink, which, although is odd, Marcus doesn’t question, just picks up another glass of champagne and stands talking to his friend and whoever is milling around offering their congratulations.

There’s a flurry of conversation that has Marcus turning around a few minutes later, he can see Cassie and her mother, who are pulled to the side by someone from the venue holding up two different types of ribbon, asking which one they want to drape around the columns and which one to tie around the chair backs. It’s not Cassie that Marcus is interested in though, it’s the bridesmaid that follows behind her.

He can feel his throat constrict, a small pit opening in his stomach that’s somewhere between the feeling of dread and excitement. He can feel the palms of his hands starting to get clammy, so he drains his glass and sets it down on the nearest table to avoid an accident. Then, he thinks he might actually pass out when you finally look at him, eyes searching his face and then the glimmer of recognition that you know exactly who he is, remember exactly the last time you’d seen him, and exactly what had happened when you had.

Your leg is bouncing underneath the dining table, food somewhat eaten regardless of the fact that it’s your favourite. You’ve dug half-moon shapes into the palms of your hands and bitten the inside of your mouth enough to taste blood.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” It’s Marcus, sitting across from you, plate cleared, completely oblivious as to what’s about to come.

“I got offered a promotion.” You tell him simply, running one hand up and down your opposite arm in an attempt to soothe yourself.

“Darling!” He exclaims, “That’s amazing!” He doesn’t move to get up, but reaches his hand out, palm up for you to take, which you do, letting his hand softly clasp yours in his own, “Why are you so upset then?”

Taking a deep breath in, biting your bottom lip, you decide it’s best to rip the band-aid off sooner rather than later, “It’s not here, Marcus,” You sigh, “The job is in D.C.”

The smile, the light of his eyes, everything on his face that had just seconds ago been showing joy, had faltered. Much like you imagine your face would have when you’d been offered the job. A significant pay rise, governmental opportunities, bigger clients, a shot at being a proper lawyer for once, but with the caveat that you had to uproot your comfortable Austin life for D.C. and with it, Marcus Pike.

“I don’t have to go,” You follow up with, “I haven’t accepted yet, I’ve got some time to think.”

You feel him squeeze your hand, his other palm coming out to rest on your wrist, slowly tracing the blue veins he can see there, “Look at me,” He asks softly, which you do, the tears that had been forming in your own eyes starting to spill down your cheeks when you find Marcus’ eyes glassed over too, “Baby, this is such an amazing opportunity, you can’t say no because of me.”

Because that’s what you would be doing. Marcus, brilliant, funny, intelligent Marcus, wouldn’t be able to follow you to D.C. There had been some talk about his work in the Art Crimes team with the higher ups, people who were impressed at his success rate, people who wanted to keep him here, send him off to California even. He was at too much of a crossroads to be able to follow you to D.C.

“I don’t want to lose you though,” You sniff, free hand coming to wipe away some of the tears that are falling from your eyes, “I love you.”

Marcus hums, finally pushes himself off his chair, letting the legs scrape across his kitchen floor, until he’s sat right in front of you, knees touching, his palms on the tops of your thighs, warm and soothing, “I love you too,” He says, bringing one hand up to cup your cheek, making sure you’re looking at him, “But this is what you’ve wanted, you’ve been working so hard baby and I’m not going to let you stay here just because of me.”

It’s killing you inside, because you want so badly to ask him to follow you. To drop everything and come to D.C. You’ve been together two years, you’re comfortable together, he makes you so happy, you’ve talked about moving in together, starting a life together, but you know deep down you’re asking him to do something unfair.

“So, I guess your stance on long-distance relationships hasn’t changed?” You ask, tone soft and sad, tears falling down your cheeks.

You watch him as his own tears fall, his hands clutching your own so tightly as he gives you a soft smile, “Baby, I wish I could say yes, I wish I could drop it all and follow you, or promise you we’d talk on the phone every day and see each other every weekend, but you know we can’t do it.”

Biting at your lip, you nod, because you know he’s right. You’re a lawyer, you barely have free time as it is - weekends more often than not spent sat on the couch with him, tapping away at your laptop whilst he looks over case files. It would never work.

Marcus leans forward, presses a kiss to your forehead, then pulls you into a hug. You clutch your hands to his back, inhaling the smell of him on his shirt , watching the light blue turn darker as it catches your tears.

“When do you go?” He asks quietly into the crook of your neck, soft kiss placed to the skin right after.

“A few weeks, probably.”

“Well, let’s enjoy them while we still can, hey?” You nod silently, “And maybe one day, we’ll find each other again.”

“And maybe one day, we’ll find each other again.”

Those words still echo in your ears four year later, like they have at various different points since you last saw Marcus Pike. Leaving had been hard. He’d helped you pack everything up, driven you to the airport, kissed you before security and promised he wouldn’t forget you. You’d text a for a few weeks before life dragged you in one direction and him in another. No-one had quite been able to live up to him either. Sure, you’d tried dating, seen people for a few months before deciding they weren’t quite the man who had almost been able to give you everything you ever wanted.

And now here he is, standing in front of you, pale as a ghost as if he’s about to keel over and have a heart attack. You want to run to him, to fling yourself into his arms and make sure he’s real. You want to press your lips to his, let him kiss you like he always used to, to clutch you to his body and whisper sweet things into your ear, but you have no idea what he’s been doing these past four years - for all you know, you could get closer and find a wedding band across his left finger.

It’s a blessing when Cassie’s hand wraps around your wrist and pulls you over to the side.

“Do you prefer the dusky rose or the blush pink?” She asks, holding up two ribbons that look identical to your eye.

You want to tell her does it really matter, they both look exactly the same. You want to tear your wrist away from her and go to Marcus, but instead you settle for a warm smile and “It’s your wedding Cass, you choose what you want.”

And when you turn around, looking back over to Mike, Marcus Pike is nowhere to be found. Like he was a mirage. A figment of your hopeful imagination. Something conjured up after your mother had set you down at the airport and said, “Bridesmaid’s always get lucky at weddings, you might find your own husband.”

When everyone is called to sit down for the rehearsal dinner, you jump at the opportunity to let Cassie sit down and eat, whilst you get pulled away by the staff to advise on which candles to use for the ceremony room and where exactly to place the flower arch for the best photos tomorrow. When you make it back, everyone is standing, milling around, getting drinks from the bar, which you decide you desperately need.

“A negroni, please.” You ask for after taking a few seconds to peruse the cocktail menu set out. The stronger the better.

“I see your tastes haven’t changed in the last few years.”

You’re pretty sure that if there was a mirror in front of you, the look of shock on your face would be comical, as Marcus Pike sidles up to the bar next to you. Up close, he’s just as handsome as he always had been, except now, he’s got a beard and more fine lines in the corners of his eyes, which means he’s been happy, smiling, whilst you’ve been gone. It makes your heart swell that he’s been happy.

“I wonder if yours have.” You counter, tilting your head towards the bartender who is waiting for him to order.

“Just a beer for now.” He smiles, but at you, not the bartender.

“That’ll be a no then.”

There’s a moment of silence between the both of you as you sip the cocktail given to you, and Marcus takes a swig of his beer. His left hand is wrapped around the bottle, no sign of the wedding ring you were convinced you’d find. You want to say something, anything, but when you go to open your mouth, he beats you to it.

“You look well.”

You can’t help but chuckle. Of all the things he could have chosen to say to you, you hadn't thought it would be that.

“So do you.” You compliment back.

There’s another silence, the two of you just looking at each other. You’re soaking him up, committing him to memory to replace the old Marcus you knew so well.

“Are you here alone?” You ask, playing with the glass in your hand.

You watch as he runs his tongue over his bottom lip, “Are you?”

“I asked you first, Agent Pike.”

He tilts his head towards his shoulder in a movement that says he’ll give you that one, “I’m here alone.”

You can’t help but smile a little, biting at your bottom lip to try and hide how pleased you are, “So am I.”

Looking up at him through your lashes, you notice the exact moment those brown eyes that you’re so used to getting lost in darken, watching you as you sip your drink, tip of your tongue jutting out to catch a drop from your bottom lip.

“Is your room completely over the top?” You ask, watching as he swallows deeply, “Because mine is, I’d love to know what the honeymoon suite must be like.”

“Depends what you mean by completely over the top?” He quirks an eyebrow.

“Do you want me to show you?”

He doesn’t even respond. He sets his half-finished beer down on the bar, takes your almost-empty negroni from your hand and does the same. Then he’s taking hold of your hand, lacing your fingers together like he always did, dragging you out of the room. You turn to find Cassie and Mike, looking at you both as you have to jog to keep up with Marcus’ pace. Both of them are winking, smiling, and Mike even throws a thumbs up your way. You can feel heat rising on your cheeks as you turn your head away from them.

“Which floor?” Marcus asks then you reach the grand staircase in the lobby.

“Second.”

He doesn’t let go of your hand, but takes the stairs two at a time, meaning by the time you reach the second floor, you’re out of breath from running behind him, trying to keep up.

“Which room?”

It’s your turn to lead him now, stepping in front of him to walk down the hallway to room 212. You fish the keycard from the back pocket of your jeans, wasting no time in pushing the door open when the tiny light turns green.

It’s dark inside, but you don’t care. Marcus Pike pins you against the wall, his thigh between your legs, both hands on your waist, and then his lips are on yours. The way he kisses hasn’t changed a bit. His mouth slants over yours, softly at first, but when you open your lips against his, hands clutching at the collar of his shirt, it’s just like you remember from all those years ago. He tastes the same, mint from the gum he always chews, the tang of the beer on his tongue, and that distinct taste that’s just him.

He swallows a groan from you as your pitch your hips down, denim rubbing on denim as he devours your mouth. His hands on your waist trail down just a little, finding the top of your jeans, floating under your shirt just a little to touch the bare skin underneath. His hands are warm and strong as they start guiding you to move against his thigh as his tongue works against yours.

Marcus pulls away from your mouth just as a particularly breathy moan leaves your mouth. It makes you both stop. Stand still. Eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room as you both realise exactly what’s happening. You know you should stop, talk about what’s clearly about to happen, but when did talking ever help anything.

“Don’t think about it,” Marcus sighs, leaning down to trail kisses along your jaw, “We talk after.”

“We talk after.” You say, mainly to the room more than anything else.

Your hands are still clutching at his shirt when his fingers find the button on your jeans. Still as adept at it as he’d always been, he pops the button open and pulls down the zipper, letting his hand trail down, settling across the lace of your underwear, cupping your pussy, letting his fingers trace along skin through lace.

A hiss leaves your mouth as you work your body in time with the slow, teasing movements of Marcus’ hand, “You’ve changed,” You manage to breathe out, your hand coming to the back of his neck to pull his mouth nearer to yours, “When you were desperate for me you’d never tease.”

You can feel his lips smile against the skin of your neck where he’s tracing wet kisses along the skin, hand still feather-light between your legs, “I’ve learnt to be more patient, honey.”

“And if I asked you not to?”

“In all the years I knew you, never once did you beg for it.” He pulls back, your eyes now accustomed to the dark, able to see him better, his voice is low, “Unless you’ve changed, you’ll have to put up with it.”

You grasp his cheeks in your palms, his hand still teasing you, pull his attention to you fully, “Marcus Pike, I swear to all that is holy that if you do not spread me out on my bed and fuck me in the next five minutes, I will die.”

He makes a ‘tsk’ sound, his head shaking in your hands, “That’s not begging for it honey,” He coos, “You gotta ask nicely for it.”

You let out a grumble of frustration, but you have to admit, this new version of the man you knew so well before is enticing. You can feel the way wetness is settling between your thighs, you’re sure if he dipped his fingers down he’d have some smart comment about how soaked you were for him already.

So you swallow your pride, you know it’ll be worth it in the end, “Please.”

“Good girl.”

It all happens in a flurry. One moment you’re against the wall, the next your back is against the mattress, Marcus’ hips pressed to yours as his hands work to push your shirt up and off your body. Your back hits the mattress again and his mouth is on you almost instantly, his lips trailing down your sternum, between the valley of your breasts. Pushing himself back on his knees, he brings his hands to the cups of your bra, pulling them down. Your nipples pebbling against the cold of the air.

His lips are back on you almost immediately, nipple enveloped into the warmth of his mouth, tip of his tongue flicking at it, making your back arch off the bed, pressing further into his mouth. Your hand comes to tangle in the curls at the back of his head, anchoring him to your body. As his mouth works across your chest, you can’t quite believe what’s happening to you. The man of your dreams, the person you always thought you were destined for, back, right here between your thighs, the bulge in the front of his jeans all too familiar to you.

Head tipped back in pleasure, you breathe out into the air, “I can’t believe you’re here.”

He tears off your breast with a wet pop, looking up at you through his lashes, mouth kissing down your body, across the soft of your tummy, he taps at your sides, lifting your hips up to drag your jeans and underwear down your legs, flung behind him and forgotten when you plant the flat of your feet onto the bed and let your knees fall open.

Marcus isn’t a religious man, he never has been, but knelt between your thighs, hands flying to rid himself of his clothes, watching as you gingerly trail your hand between your thighs, eyes on him as you play with your clit, he thinks he might have to start believing. As he stands to take the last of his clothes off, standing at the foot of the bed, naked with his cock in his hand, watching your face, he thanks the Lord for whatever mischief they had to concoct to get you back here with him.

He crawls back up your body, kissing from ankle to thigh, settling himself between your thighs, cock sliding through your slick folds as he lays his body down against yours, one of his hands slipping under your neck, cradling the back of your head, the other cupping your cheek, moving your face to look right into his eyes. He’s so fucking close to you, lips barely a hairs breadth from your own.

“I have to be inside you,” He pants against your mouth, “I promise I'll spend hours between your thighs later baby, but I have to be inside you.”

He doesn’t give you any time to respond, just shifts his hips a little, sinking himself into your aching cunt. You arch up into him, moaning against his mouth as he stills. The hand clutching at your cheek trails down your neck, thumb flicking against your nipple as it travels to rest on your hip.

“Stop squirming,” He pleads, “Please.. Just stay still a minute.”

He feels so right, nestled inside your pussy. The weight of his body pressed against yours takes you right back to all the nights before, locked away in his Austin apartment in the dead of night, making each other feel good, making promises at the height of your combined pleasure to each other that never materialised. You can feel tears settle in your eyes as he starts moving, pulling himself out of you slowly, pushing back in even slower.

Marcus leans down, kissing the salty tears from your cheeks, shushing you, “Don’t cry baby,” He whispers into your ear, “I’ve got you now.”

Your hands are clutching at his shoulders, nails digging small, half-moon shapes into his skin there. He feels just as incredible moving inside you as he always did, but there’s something settling in your tummy, the feeling that you knew so well with him, that you’ve only really known with yourself since.

“I can feel you baby,” Marcus groans into your ear as the thrusts of his cock get a little faster, a little harder, “Clenching all perfectly around me,” He takes hold of one of your wrists, dragging it between the both of you, resting it right where you need it, “I won’t last baby,” He admits, “Touch yourself and we’ll do it together?”

So you do, you rub tight, precise circles over your clit as Marcus pushes himself up, takes your thighs in his palms, pushing your legs back as far as he can. The change in angle makes you cry out as he really starts fucking you now. The only sounds in the room are the slapping of his skin against yours, your whimpers and his groans. You can feel the tightening coil across your abdomen, breath hitching in your throat, you’re so fucking close to coming undone on him.

“Marcus,” You whine, “I’m gonna-” You trail off as he shifts a little more, pressing your legs further back, cock hitting that unholy sweet spot inside you, “Gonna come.”

“Go on baby,” He encourages, “I’ll be right behind you.”

And that’s how it ends. Eyes shut so tightly you can feel tears pooling at the corners, cunt clenching around his cock as you cry out his name. It’s so familiar, the way it feels, the way he sounds, like no time has passed at all and you’re exactly the same as you’d both been four years ago. He’s pounding into you as your body convulses underneath, thighs shaking and toes curling as his hips start to stutter.

“Where?” He manages to choke out, his tone reminiscent of all those times before when he was holding on, teetering on the edge, wanting to know what you wanted.

“I’m s-safe,” You manage to choke out, head reeling from your own orgasm, “The pill.”

He doesn’t need to hear anymore, finally giving in, knowing you’ve fallen apart for him, he’s groaning your name into the dark, you can feel him spilling into you, claiming you, marking you as his own in a way only the two of you could ever understand. He lets go of your thighs, letting your legs drop back into comfort as he slowly drags himself from you, collapsing onto the bed next to you.

There’s a few moments of silence. Your arm is draped across your face, chest rising and falling as you try to suck in enough air to calm your breathing, Marcus doing the same across the bed. You roll over, putting yourself on your side so you can look at him. He’s led on his back, head turned to look at you in the dull light of the room - the moonlight through the window the only thing illuminating the two of you. He reaches out, traces your face with his hand.

“I can't believe you’re real.” He speaks softly, rolling over to face you, pulling your warm body to his.

“I know we said we’d talk after,” You whisper, hand trailing over his waist to rest across his back, “But can we just stay like this for a while?” It’s a soft plead, you don’t want to be reminded that this was probably a bad idea, you want to hold this man in front of you and forget that in a few short days it’ll all be over, he’ll go back to wherever he is now, and you’ll go back to D.C. lonelier than ever.

“I’ll stay here as long as you’ll let me, honey.”

Marcus, against his better judgement, stays with you all night. You don’t talk. You curl up into his side, settle against his body as he wraps his arms around you. It’s inevitable that he casts his mind back to how things used to be. To the history you share with each other. He still, to this day, hasn’t stopped thinking about you, about what would have been if you’d stayed. Would you be married? Probably, he thinks. He’d thought of it often towards the end, before your promotion. Stopped outside jewellery shops, tried to imagine which kind of ring you’d want – he’d even slipped one of your rings onto his own finger, figuring out where it stopped so he could pick the right size when the time came. Would you have children? He isn’t sure, neither of you had ever spoken about it, you’d never expressed a want to have them, but he’s certain if you’d have asked, he’d have given them to you.

He falls asleep, waking up hours later, darkness still pervading. He turns on his side, spooning his front to your back. You’re half-awake when you press yourself back into him, bring your hand up to clutch at his head as he slips inside you once more, his hand holding your thigh up. He breathes into your ear, whispers filth to you as he rocks his hips against you. When you feel his teeth trail over your shoulder, he chuckles when you tell him off.

“I can’t walk down the aisle with bruises on my shoulders, Marcus.”

It’s soft, and he tips you over the edge, feeling you clench around him as his fingers trace circles over your clit, following just behind you, filling you up once more. He doesn’t pull away from you, just settles your thigh back down, resting himself inside of you as you both fall back to sleep.

Then, he’s awake before your alarm. He wakes you with a kiss to your forehead, tells you to go back to sleep when you protest and try and coax him back to the warmth of your sheets. He has to shower he says, has to help Mike get ready, but he’ll be waiting for you, watching you all day. Marcus smiles, really smiles, when you curl over back onto your side, soft breaths and mumbles as you fall back to sleep, and as he walks to his own room and stands waiting for the shower to warm, there’s a feeling of content that spreads through him – should he have fucked you last night? Probably not. Should he have encouraged you to talk more? Probably yes. He knows he’s got his cards hidden, he’s not letting on that this might not have to just exist here, but he’ll keep that to himself for just a little longer.

“So,” Cassie smirks from her place in the make-up chair, artist flitting around her, pressing all number of products into her face, “You and the groomsman?”

“Shut up,” You mutter to her, trying not to scratch at your face, make-up already settling uncomfortably across your skin, “A momentary lapse of judgement.”

She hums, and then moves her focus back to the make-up artist who is tilting her face to put on some blush, “You don’t have to lie to me, you know,” She says to you as you pass her a mimosa, “I know that was Marcus. The Marcus.”

There’s a moment where you feel like a deer in headlights, like you’ve been caught being up to no good, even though you know that’s not the case. Then you turn slowly to her, eyebrow raised, and see her smirking, much to the chagrin of the make-up artist who urgently wants to get her lipstick on her so she can move onto the final bridesmaid.

“He’s Mike’s friend, they went to school together, see each other quite often these days – apparently he always talks about a girl from Austin, no-one could ever compare, he’s tried moving on, done this, done that, but always came back to thinking about the one who got away,” She stops talking to take a drink, “Which sounded oddly familiar to someone else I know.”

She’s not wrong really – Cassie had been a lifeline when you’d moved to D.C. a work colleague turned best friend, who has been the shoulder to cry on whenever dates had gone badly, or even when they’d been good, but you just couldn’t get Marcus Pike off your brain. She told you, like most good friends would, that it would take time, you’d find someone right for you, someone who would take your mind right off Marcus, but it never happened.

“You did this on purpose!” You accuse, but its friendly, because really, her and her soon-to-be husband have only done what you had always wanted to do yourself, pick up the phone, no matter how long it has been and tell the man you still loved him.

“Of course we did,” She chuckles, “Don’t think about it too much,” She adds, “Just enjoy this today and most of all, behave yourself.”

When Cassie walks down the aisle, it’s not her that Marcus is looking at – it’s you. He hadn’t thought it possible for him to find you more beautiful than he had before, but in your dark green dress, slit cut into the fabric to show off one of your legs as you walk, dress cut perfectly to sit on all the curves of your body that he always did love, he can’t deny you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He spends the entire ceremony making eyes at you, smirking when you meet his gaze. He wants to tell you how lovely you look, lean down and plant a kiss to your lips in front of everyone, but he doesn’t get a chance until cocktail hour, once you’ve had your pictures taken and Cassie has insisted on you finally having a drink and enjoying your day instead of flapping about whether she needs anything from you.

“Has anyone told you how beautiful you look today?” He asks, hand settling on your waist as you lean against the bar waiting for your drink.

“Funnily enough, it’s not me most people have been looking at.” You quip back, taking the margarita from the bartender when it’s handed to you.

“I’ve been looking at you.”

“I know,” You smirk, “Pretty sure I ruined my panties stood at the top of the aisle.”

“Because the ceremony moved you so much?”

“Because I couldn’t stop thinking about your face between my thighs, actually.”

He looks exactly like he always used to when you flirt with him like this. Eyes low and dark, mouth slightly ajar like he can’t quite believe you’ve just been so forward. He’s not thinking straight anymore, and much like he had done last night, he grips around your wrist and starts dragging you from the reception room, this time there are considerably more people so you manage to slip out unnoticed.

Instead of heading up the stairs, taking you to your room or his, he turns left down a hallway, tearing open the door to one of the bathrooms. It’s a single stall, lock clicking behind him. You press your back against the wall, setting your drink down on the sink.

Marcus takes three steps towards you, hand slipping around your waist, pulling you flush against his body, lips so close that you can feel his breath on your skin.

“Do you know how sinful you’ve looked all day?” He asks, “Walking around looking all innocent, but I know you’ve been begging to get fucked all day, haven’t you?” You whine at him in response, trying to chase his mouth as he pulls back, “Don’t think I didn’t see you rubbing your thighs together during the ceremony.”

“It’s only because you wouldn’t stop looking at me.”

His hand finds the skin of your thigh, the slit of your dress making it easy for him to trail up to the hem of your panties.

“If I put my fingers on you,” He breathes, “Will you be wet?”

“Why don’t you find out?” You cock your head to the side, biting your lip as you look at him, his hand pulling your panties to the side, thick fingers slipping between your folds.

“Baby,” He moans, finally taking your bottom lip between his, nipping your skin with his teeth a little before he pulls away, fingers slipping inside you, pulling a groan from your throat, “Soaked for me?”

“Always, Marcus.”

He drags his fingers from you, spins you around, and reaches down to bring your palms up to rest against the wall in front you. He puts his hands on your hips, dragging your ass backwards until you can feel him through his trousers. His hands shuck your dress up to your waist and instead of tearing your panties off, he pushes them to the side. You look over your shoulder at him, as much as you can, and watch as he undoes his belt, pulls the zipper of his trousers down and reaches in, pulling his cock out. His trousers are pushed down just enough to let him free himself, and you don’t think you’ve seen such a beautiful sight in your life, than Marcus Pike with his fist around his cock, running his hand up and down himself as he moves to nudge the head of his cock at your soaked core.

Unlike last night, he isn’t gentle when he pushes into you. He’s buried inside your cunt in seconds, setting a pace that punches the air from your lungs. You know that even though you’re locked in here, away from the party, there’s still every chance someone is going to walk past, try the door handle, and hear exactly what’s going on in here, so you’re trying your best to keep the noise to a minimum.

“Needed you so badly, baby,” Marcus chokes out behind you, hands gripping your hips hard enough that you’re sure you’ll have his fingerprints embedded onto your skin, “Always so pretty for me, aren’t you?”

He’s hitting that sweet spot inside you, over and over again, and you have to bite your lip to keep yourself from crying out. You feel one of his hands trail up your spine through the material of your dress, coming to rest with a grip around the nape of your neck, his fingers itching to slide up into your hair and grip it.

“You can’t,” You plead, “Don’t mess my hair up.”

“I won’t baby.” He pants out from behind you, trailing his hand down just a little so he’s not tempted to take a fistful of it to pull you back, arch you into him even more.

It’s fast and it’s hard, everything Marcus never really used to be. He liked to take his time, spread you out and have you crying for him before he slipped inside you, slowly, watching every contort of pleasure on your face. You think you like this new version of him, the one so desperate to have you he couldn’t make it up the stairs, couldn’t even pull your panties down your legs.

“Marcus,” You moan out, “Please.”

“What’s that, baby?” He asked, mouth right by your ear, “You begging for something?”

“Mmmhmm.”

“What do you want?”

“Make me come?”

You think maybe he might try and tease you some more, but mercifully he takes the hand he’s got resting on your hip and snakes it down your body, letting his fingers find your clit - he had always been good at that. He drags the gathered slick where he can, cock still moving into you, pulling whimpers and moans whenever you feel his skin slap against yours, circles your clit quickly with the pad of his finger. You can feel your walls tightening around him, your thighs starting to shake as he continues doing exactly what he’s doing.

It’s no secret to either of you that making you come always took time. He’d never shamed you for it, always been more than happy to do whatever it took, for as long as it took, to get you there. But the mix of desperation for him, elation that he’s waltzed right back into your life, and the fact he’s fucking you in a public bathroom, have that coil tightening inside you quicker than ever.

“Can feel you getting tight around me baby,” He groans into your ear, “You gonna let go for me?”

You don’t have time to tell him yes. The tight coil snaps inside you, your eyes closed so tightly you’re sure the make-up around your eyes is dragging down your cheeks on tears. You can keep your voice down now as you flutter around his cock, you cry out his name, feeling his hands holding onto your hips to keep you steady as your legs threaten to fall out from underneath you.

You’re only half aware of him speaking into your ear, telling you he’s close. You can feel him start to pull himself out of you, so you reach behind you quickly, fingernails digging into the part of his thigh you can reach to keep him inside you.

“I swear to god if you get cum on my dress Pike, I’ll kill you.”

He lets out a deep, throaty chuckle behind you, slams himself back into you, “You just want an excuse for me to come inside you, don’t you?” He hisses into your ear, teeth nipping at the skin behind your ear, “You just have to ask nicely for it.”

“Please, Marcus, please.”

Never one to deny you, he does, having held out as long as he could, he thrusts once, twice and then he’s moaning your name into your ear. You can feel him spilling inside of you, filling you up, then you can feel him dripping down your thigh when Marcus starts pulling away from you, not quite quick enough to put your panties back on. He tells you to keep still, fumbling behind him for some paper he can use to clean your thighs up.

He speaks to you as he lets the material of your dress fall back down over your legs, “Walking around full of me for the rest of the night.” He coos as you turn around, reaching out to pull his mouth to yours in a chaste kiss.

You stay like that for a moment, both attempting to fix the others clothes. Marcus brings his thumb to his mouth, letting his tongue jut out to wet it, before he drags it under your eye, getting rid of the worst of the black marks he’s caused.

You reach behind him, unlock the door, but take hold of his hand as you push the door open. Thankfully there’s no-one waiting outside to use the bathroom as you drag him back down towards the party.

It’s late. Or early depending on how you look at it. Marcus had dragged you from the dance floor at midnight, walked you slowly up to his room instead of yours. He’d helped you out of your dress, let you shower and wash yourself clean, then, before you could put your robe on and insist on going to sleep, he’d taken your hand, led you to the chair near the balcony doors and he’d made good on his promise of last night to spend hours with his face between your legs.

“I can’t,” You whine, Marcus hand’s pinning your legs open, his tongue flicking against your clit, “It’s too much.”

He pulls off you just enough to speak, “Believe in yourself baby,” He says, sinking two fingers into you, curling them upwards, “I know you can, just one more for me.”

Your whole body feels like its on fire. You’ve lost count of the amount of times he’s made you come tonight. There had been a small reprieve when you’d begged to suck his cock, Marcus obliging, painting your face and your tongue, before he settled right back to his knees. It’s almost as if he thinks if he stops you’ll disappear.

Your fingers are tangled in his hair, battling between tugging his face closer and pulling it away as he sucks your clit into his mouth, the added pressure along with the flicking of his tongue setting your skin on fire even more than before. Your hair is sticking to your forehead and the back of your neck, rivulets of sweat gathering at various points across your body as Marcus tips you over the edge once more.

Your mouth drops open in a silent scream, body feeling boneless as your whole body convulses at his touch. Almost like he knows, he pulls himself away from you gently, knowing that any more would be too much, saving you the need to beg him to stop. He presses soft kisses to the skin of your tummy, kissing up your body until he’s sitting up on his knees, kissing into your mouth, letting you taste yourself on him.

Marcus clambers to his feet, takes hold of your hand and pulls you to your feet, guiding you over to the bed to settle you under the sheets, the air peppering your sweaty skin with goosebumps. It’s a sad realisation that you have to go home tomorrow, that the bubble you’ve caught yourself up in over the past few days is about to burst. You think this might break your heart even more than the first time around.

“What are we going to do?” You ask against the skin of his chest as he pulls you into him.

“What do you mean?” He asks back, kiss pressed lightly to your forehead.

“With us, after this?” Your fingers are tracing over his skin, trying to map the feeling of him before he leaves.

“Well, I thought maybe we could go for dinner sometime?”

You look up at him, face contorted in confusion, “You’re going to come all the way from Austin to take me for dinner?”

“No baby,” He chuckles a little, “I don’t live in Austin anymore, I live in D.C.”

You push yourself up in bed, one hand on the mattress to keep yourself upright, looking down at Marcus, who reaches up to cup your cheek in his hand, thumb rubbing soft lines across your skin, “Since when?”

“Two years?” He offers, “I would have-” He trails off a little, “I would have told you but I wasn’t in a great place when I first moved, had no idea what your life would have even looked like either, I didn’t just want to turn up out of the blue if you’d moved on, found someone else.”

Your hand comes up to clutch at the wrist of the arm cradling your face, “I’ve waited so long for you,” You sigh, “I tried, tried to find someone else, but none of them were ever you Marcus.”

“I tried too,” He admits, because Lord knows he did, and for what? “I promise I’ll tell you everything one day, but right now, I want to fall asleep with you right here.”

You settle back down in bed, curling up against his side, arm draped over his waist, “Where in the city do you live?” You ask, sleep starting to make your eyes heavy.

“I’m on 4th street, in Petworth.”

You can’t help but laugh, because of course he fucking does. Marcus Pike has been living four streets over from you for the past two fucking years.

“You’ve been living four streets over from me for two years, Marcus.”

He runs his hands up and down your spine, gently, soothing you, “Well, that’s convenient, isn’t it?” He asks softly, “I can be at your front door in five minutes.”

“You want to be my booty call, Marcus Pike?”

“If that’s what you want,” He speaks, “I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”

“What are you doing Wednesday night?”

“Nothing, as far as I’m aware.”

“How about you take me on a first date?” You offer, “Let’s learn each other all over again and take things from there?”

Marcus colts your chin up to his face with a finger, leaning down and giving you the softest kiss you think you’ve ever received, “I would love nothing more.”

#Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike Smut #Marcus Pike x reader #Marcus Pike x you #marcus pike fanfiction #Marcus Pike x female reader #Marcus Pike x F!reader #Marcus Pike fic #Marcus Pike fanfic #the mentalist #the mental illness is winning #the mentalist fanfic #the mentalist fanfiction #Pedro pascal #marcus pike fluff #Marcus Pike angst #Marcus Pike Pedro Pascal #Marcus Pike The mentalist

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chronically-ghosted · 5 months

Text

the days i spend with you

rating: T

pairing: marcus pike x f!reader

word count: >1000

summary: a snow-storm keeps you from meeting Marcus's family over the holidays so you cheer him up by maintaining Pike family traditions.

warnings/tags: literally none, so much fluff, bad jokes, talking with your mouth full which is bad manners, references to air bud (do y'all even know who that is), minor praise in a barely kinky way, no y/n

a/n: i was feeling festive and my beautiful beautiful moots answered the call! @yoursoulsunbreakable requested: What about making apple scented candles with Marcus P on a rainy day? 🕯️🍎 🍁 this was healing to my soul to write so there will be more autumn/thanksgiving themed oneshots coming soon! (if you like these, please go look at @trulybetty 's october x 500 -- she did all of October with these yummy prompts, so please check them out and give her a follow!)

🤍Masterlist

“Stop it, you’re going to make me laugh.”

“I’m not even doing anything.”

“You’re going to make me drop it!”

“What do you want me to do? Shut my eyes?”

“Yes!”

With a smile, your eyes flicker between the dribbling hot wax and Marcus, laughing as he stands up and goes to the other side of the kitchen. He pops half a Snickerdoodle in his mouth.

“Shee ‘m ev’n in a d’frnt room. ‘Appy now?”

Your distraction taken care of, you return your attention to the culmination of about eight hours of work. Arms straining with the heavy pot, you continue to pour out the amber colored liquid into the small glass container that came with the kit and you bite your lip, focus entirely on maintaining a steady hand. A whole number of things could go wrong here: you could spill the wax and have hot wax splash all over Marcus’s grandmother’s Queen Anne table, which could have been present at the original Thanksgiving. You could pour too fast and the wax would yank down the wick and then you’d have to pluck it out with tweezers before it could harden – naturally clumsy, adding speed to the mix would only incentivize more chaos.

But you hold steady, wrists tight, and the wax slowly fills to the top, the tiny string staying firmly around the chopsticks.

“That’s it, baby, you’re doing perfect.”

His voice makes your toes clench in your shoes and you bite your lip harder. Caught half-way between wanting his praise and finding even his voice a distraction, you block him out entirely and lean forward, just as the wax reaches the lip of the glass container. Like Marcus had shown you on the one he did just before, you flick your wrist up and the flow of the wax drip, drip, drips until the last bit is stopped by the edge of the pot.

For a moment, you worry about what you forgot to do or if you’ve missed a step – because everything looks too perfect. The wax is settling properly, a cinnamon apple smell pungent throughout the house, and the string holds strong.

Firm, warm hands slide over your waist as Marcus kisses your neck. His breath smells like sugar, the weight behind you a balm and a praise all its own.

“Are you sure you’ve never done this before?” He asks quietly as he noses your ear. “You’re a natural.”

You bite your lip and run your palms over his knuckles, up to his elbows, then settling firmly on his forearms.

“I know I’m not as good as your sister, or your mom, but at least I didn’t spill everywhere.” You smile gently when he stiffens slightly behind you. Twisting in his arms, you put a hand on that smooth face you love with all your heart. He returns your smile, but it's dampened. You know he’s disappointed that the weather grounded all planes to Maine where the Pikes’ have a winter home – he had been so looking forward to introducing you to his family. “I hope I haven’t shamed your ancestors with my shoddy candle making.”

Marcus laughs and shakes his head, returning the hug around your waist. “You haven’t shamed anyone. I give that candle a ten out of ten.”

“And I burned the wax only once!” This time you laugh with him as he kisses your cheek. You forget how easy a happy Marcus shows affection, someone entirely different from the forlorn man you met all those months ago after he moved to Washington from Austin. “What’s next for the Pike family Thanksgiving Olympics?”

“Well, for a championship gold medal like that, I think all contestants deserve a hot chocolate and a repeat viewing of A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving.” He pats your butt and walks into the kitchen. “Save me a seat, will ya?”

You smirk then flex in a pose as you head for the couch like you’re showing off your muscles on the Miami boardwalk. “You got it, champ. Put me in, cap, I’ll bring home the gold yet again! Airbud ain’t got nothing on me! Those Rooskies can’t defeat my hockey skills and–,”

A hand catches your elbow halfway through a pretend hockey stick swing and you stumble back into his arms. You have a second to see his half-lidded eyes before he kisses you, your cheeks nestled between his palms. And you, predictable, go as weak-kneed as a dame on a tarmac. Your hands curl around his wrists, his cashmere sweater as soft as he is.

He nips at your bottom lip, almost a more affectionate squeeze than a real bite and you sigh, adjusting yourself to get closer to him. When he finally pulls away, you feel a little lightning-struck. You lift your heavy lids to his rich, dark brown eyes. The smile he gives you is a full on Pike smile, nothing dampened or dimmed about it.

“Thank you for being here,” he murmurs to your lips. You can’t wait to kiss chocolate off his later. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Marcus.”

There is no silence with Marcus, only quiet contentment. Outside, the snow patters softly against the windows, piling up in the eaves of the house and the bends of the trees and the curves of the cars, the miles of road – a truly snowed-in Thanksgiving.

“Marshmallows with whipped cream?”

“Marshmallows with whipped cream.” You nod seriously. He lets you go and you kiss him once more on the cheek before going to find a good blanket to snuggle under. His heart so full it truly might burst, he turns back to the kitchen to start heating up the milk.

So the weather ruined his plans this time around, the small black box remaining hidden in the bottom of his suitcase. Well, there is always Christmas to do it in front of his family. And if the weather continued to thwart his perfect proposal, he’d do it in the damn driveway if he had to.

He didn’t want to waste another second with his ring anywhere but your finger.

#marcus pike #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike fanfic #marcus pike fic #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike x female reader #thanksgiving 2023

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pedroscurls · 2 months

Text

second chances | series masterlist

wip | ao3

Summary: After Marcus moves to DC - alone - he's determined to just focus on work. After a failed marriage followed with his failed relationship with Lisbon, Marcus believes that love just isn't in the cards for him anymore. Until you move in next door. Character pairing: Marcus Pike x fem!Reader Rating: 18+ minors dni, each chapter will have its own warnings.

Part 1.

Part 2.

Part 3.

Part 4.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal characters #marcus pike #the mentalist #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike fanfic #the mentalist fanfiction #the mentalist fanfic #marcus pike x fem!reader #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike x reader #story: second chances

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creedslove · 4 months

Text

THE PIKE CHRISTMAS 🎄☃️🎁

Marcus Pike x f!reader

Summary: you and Marcus have a daughter together, co-parenting after your relationship ended but one Christmas together might change it all 🎄

Warnings: fluff, mentions of Marcus' disastrous love life, happy ending

A/N: MERRY CHRISTMAS 🎄🎁

5.7k words

When Olivia was born, Marcus’ life had taken a completely different turn, he had always been a man who dreamed of a family, didn't work with his first wife, then he moved on through a series of relationships that never seemed to take him anywhere until he met Teresa Lisbon. He wouldn't be able to tell why he fell for her as had as he did, he wasn't dumb or clueless as some people assume, he knew she wasn't into him as much as he was into her, and even if that hurt him deep down inside, he thought eventually things would fall right back into place, if she had said yes to his invitation to ditch those pizzas after the end of their mission for pancakes, and then to start sleeping at his place, then going out on a regular basis, until he simply proposed to her in the middle of the hallway at work, it wasn't the most romantic thing he could've done, he was usually a traditional guy, wedding ring, nice dinner, maybe even a serenade and an exchange of love vows before popping the real question, but he did what he could at that moment, what the occasion allowed and thinking of it in retrospect, it was actually a good thing he didn't waste that much time, effort and money into that proposal, because well, even if Marcus Pike was overall a gentle and understanding man, he also would have appreciated if she said no instead of leading him into believing she actually wanted to marry him. It would've hurt him at the time, but just like ripping off a band-aid, it would be quick and straightforward and the pain would go away faster than it did when she cooked him up, giving him hopes for a future together.

So when Teresa broke his heart and treated him as if he was barely an acquaintance to her, he became wary. He didn't like to think of relationships and he closed himself up to any kind of flirtation and stuff like that. He was going through so many changes into his life: a new city, a new position at work, now he wasn't just agent Pike, he was the head of the art department of the FBI, he was a boss, he had more responsibility and less free time, and even if Marcus was aware of his looks and the fact both men and women found him attractive, the fact he was an intelligent man, he made good money and carried a bunch of positive adjectives that could easily get him a possible list of interested women, he chose to step away. So when he met you, he straight up ignored his feelings, the way his palms got sweaty, how pleasant your perfume was and the way his stupid heart skipped a beat whenever you displayed your gorgeous smile at him. A part of him desperately wanted to connect with you, get to know you better, ask you out on a date, and another part of himself begged him not to do it, knowing he wouldn't be able to take another harsh strike of rejection and start over again. Marcus wasn't an old man, he was getting close to middle age, and even if a part of him kept hauntingly reminding him of the fact he hadn't been able to build up a family at that age, he was also so hopeful he was still too young to give up love.

Eventually he couldn't fight his desire for you and a simple lunch between you both escalated to a series of regular dates, and whereas all of his relationships followed the same course of an organized timeline: getting to know each other, officially dating, getting engaged and finally getting married. You, on the other hand, was a complete different ride, it seemed you were going through the same path, following the same stages until you weren't anymore and you showed up at his door on a Thursday night with teary eyes and a pregnancy test in hands, just a few months after you two started dating. That was a whole new ride for him; he was not expecting to become a father even if he wanted to, it still felt too sudden, you both were having more fun than actually having a commitment together, and if he was going to be honest, he didn't actually want to jump into marriage right then, it was risky, scary and he felt it was doomed to be another failure in his love life, he was willing to step up and be a dad to the baby you both were going to have in a matter of months, but he was torn between not wanting to get married just then - as Marcus Pike wasn't opposed to marriage at all - and not wanting to be seen as the asshole who didn't marry the woman he got pregnant. It didn't matter what his colleagues, his family or friends thought of him at that matter, he just didn't want to be seen like that by you. So when you had a heartfelt conversation with him, opening up and listing the reasons why you didn't want to get married he felt a wave of relief over him. You both got to an agreement: you would co-parent your baby, Marcus would pay you child support and everyone would be happy. Even if there was still a lot of mixed feelings, words left unspoken and the prospect of a successful relationship that didn't have enough time to mature on its own, so it was better to close the agreement in being co-parents and friends, it was better than nothing.

You couldn't complain at all, even if you buried deep your feelings for Marcus, he was definitely the best guy to have a baby with, for once, he actually cared about it, he was genuinely happy to become a father even if you weren't a couple any longer, he still made sure to go to all the appointments and exams he was able to, work still got in the way of one or two but he made it to as many as he could. Marcus wouldn't miss the opportunity to get his baby girl whatever he thought she might like some day: toys, clothes, blankets, little shoes. It was a pleasure to spend on her. You still remembered the day he found out you were expecting a girl: he cried. He was never strong enough to hold back his emotions, not when you had a new ultrasound in progress and he could hear his baby's heartbeats loud and clear. And he cried again when you gave birth, he was there the whole time, holding your hand, looking almost as terrified as you were, and the moment her strong little lungs let out a loud wail, you could see the tears running down his cheek freely, warming and melting your heart, mixed up with the pang of not being with Marcus, not going home with him at the end of the day, but with the peaceful assurance you had the luck to find a great man to have a child with.

Olivia was the name picked in agreement by the two of you, but Marcus simply called her Livy, she was his Livy, his sweet tiny little Livy, and even when you asked him why he'd chosen that nickname he shrugged, not having a meaningful or strong explanation, he just liked the sound of it, it made his heart swell with love just to picture the face of that one beautiful princess who would be called his Livy Pike.

The first time you were surprised by the nickname was an odd - but very pleasant evening - you'd spent next to Marcus. He usually had the habit of letting you know when he was going to drop a visit or even call and see if he was allowed to, but that night he got to your place unannounced, looking like he'd had a rough day. He refused your offers to serve him a beer, a glass of wine or even make dinner, he simply asked you to spend some time with you and Olivia, who was still safely tucked in your womb. There was no denying his request, you nodded and lay back on the couch, while he placed his hand on your lap, his face resting against your warm, round pregnant belly and talking to his baby girl. He whispered a bunch of sweet nothings to her, in hopes she would be able to recognize his voice and know how much she was already loved by him. He caressed the sides of your stomach, while your hand went to his smooth, messy hair, playing with his growing curls, exactly the way you used to when you both were a couple, having a glimpse of what life would be like if you two had stayed together after the shock of the pregnancy turned into happiness.

What you didn't know was that Marcus wasn't just having a rough day, it had been more than that, more than just a rough week, it'd been a rough few months. Months of investigation of what was supposed to be pieces of art trafficking, it was supposed to be just about paintings, sculptures and statues being trafficked, but unfortunately, it'd been more than that. It was all a facade for a much worse operation: human trafficking. And that made Marcus so miserable and depressed, he just needed to be reminded there was still something good in the world, he needed time with you and his precious little Livy.

He glanced at your Christmas tree and realized Christmas would be in a few days. He'd been so involved in the investigation and all the tension and stress that comes with it, he had barely acknowledged the upcoming holiday. He hadn't even decorated his apartment like he usually did, he hadn't even bought himself his plane tickets to fly back to Texas and see his family. There was still so much he needed to do but the realization that was going to be the last Christmas he would spend without having a tiny baby in his arms and finally having a little someone call him ‘daddy’, made him smile.

“She'll be here, celebrating with us, next year”

•••

Olivia's first Christmas was going to be printed in Marcus’ memories forever. He didn't actually spend Christmas day with her, as he traditionally went back to his hometown to see his family, but he made sure to get everything done in advance: house decoration, presents, gift-wrapping and everything a dad should be up to on such a special date. Before his baby girl was born, he didn't see the point in decorating only for himself; of course he would set small Christmas tree ornaments and call it a decoration, but that was about it. However, after his precious Olivia came to the world to brighten his life, he felt he owed it to her all the magic he could display. So in a matter of days, Marcus had purchased a brand new Christmas tree, several ornaments and lights and seeing his baby's excited face paid off. One of Pike's favorite memories was when he left a nearly one-year-old Olivia playing with her blocks on the living room carpet for a split second, just to make sure her vegetable soup was ready and returned to find her giggling self ripping off the gift wrap of one of the presents underneath the tree. She didn't know she was supposed to wait a couple of days more, she didn't know technically that was her mama's present, what her daddy had bought you, she just got mesmerized at the bright beautiful colors and went to explore. Marcus felt like he was going to explode into a puddle of love for his daughter. He was truly blessed and forever thankful to you for having got the best present of all.

And so another couple of Christmas passed and his beautiful, lovely, princess Olivia was now a gorgeous and adorable three-year-old toddler, almost going four, which meant Marcus’ heart was often balanced between the pang of seeing his baby grow way too fast and the pride he felt of seeing her blossom into an extraordinary child.

•••

“Higher daddy, higher!” Olivia squealed with happiness and excitement as her dad lifted her up, his grip tight on her sides so she wouldn't slip as she held the angel ornament and put it on top of the tree with tiny little hands. She felt the thrill of being held up so high, because Olivia loved how strong her daddy was and how he always made her fly on his arms; she loved spending weekends at his daddy's place, even if she'd rather have her mommy with them, she still had a lot of fun. Looking around the living, where she had helped her daddy decorate everything, made her happy, she loved the lights, the tree and the little Christmas ballerinas that dance to a sad but beautiful song inside that box. Her daddy had explained to her that it was called “art” and both him and her mommy really liked it, and that art thing made them feel many different things, that was why sometimes something was so pretty that could make her cry.

But Olivia had no time to cry, she was too busy spying the gifts that began to gather around the living room. She knew some were for her, some were for mommy and some were for grandma and grandpa, but most of them were for her. Marcus pulled his daughter closer, snuggling her and feeling her heart beating fast inside her chest. He loved that tiny little princess with all his being, and sometimes such love was overwhelming, as he never really thought he could have something as good as that. He thought of you and his heart dropped a little, picturing what things would have been like if you both had gotten married once you found out about Olivia, he knew you wanted to be free, to work and finish your studies, but he was never oppose to that, if anything, he would've supported you just the same. Even if he wasn't in the right state of mind for a marriage, he still enjoyed picturing you as his wife. He would buy you a beautiful diamond ring, make sure you were happy and satisfied with the life he could provide you, but after some time, he just accepted that maybe the timing wasn't good and his chance was over. Simple as that.

As he put Olivia down and walked to the kitchen with her, he held her hand, who was excitedly waiting for her mac&cheese. His daddy wasn't as much of a good cook as her mommy was, but his mac&cheese was the best in the whole wide world. He served her some in her pink plastic plate and chuckled to see her kicking her legs absent-mindedly while waiting for dinner. Marcus sighed, you were back in his mind, imagine how many family dinners you three could have had together over these years. Of course there were plenty of times you invited Marcus over for dinner, or he did the same with you whenever you were there to pick up Olivia, but it wasn't the same and he just knew it.

“Are you excited for Christmas, baby girl?” He asked Olivia, who chewed her food eagerly, loving the taste of it, seeing her nod and smile.

“I wish we spent it together daddy, you, me and mommy” she pouted, looking like a tiny puppy, which broke Marcus’ heart. He hated that he could never spend that special time with his precious Livy and even more so that you weren't there as well. He cleared his throat and caressed her cheek, her face being tiny against the palm of his hand.

“I'd love that too, honey, but you know, you spend Christmas with mama and I go back to Texas to see grandma and grandpa” he offered her a smile “unless mama let me take you, would you like to go with dada? I bet you'd love to spend a sunny and warm Christmas playing in the pool with your cousins..”

Marcus knew better than anyone he shouldn't really hype up kids the way he just did, but he was also caught in the moment, for a moment he had a glimpse of what spending Christmas day with his daughter would be like, where she could actually visit his parents' home, see his childhood bedroom and the toys he used to play with when he was her age, he would like Olivia to be able to spend that holiday under the warm sun, in one of her gorgeous little dresses, and not in the snowy gray weather of DC. At that moment, he took a decision: he was going to talk to you about it, you had a good relationship, he was sure all it would take was a good conversation and you would let him have Olivia for the holidays, everyone would be happy at end: they would be able to spend more time together and you would have a well-deserved break from the maternity duty.

When you showed up two hours after the time you were supposed to have picked up your daughter, Marcus was aware of your delay, having read the texts you sent warning him of how things at work got complicated and later on how traffic was simply impossible, he did what he could to make your life a little easier, and that included bathing Olivia and helping her into her beautiful reindeer jammies and tucking her in. Then he prepared you a big sandwich, after all, he couldn't cook even if his life depended on it, but if there were two things he could make like a champ, was definitely his mac&cheese and his gigantic sandwiches. He immediately opened the door to you, getting lost into you. You were so beautiful, your body was mesmerizing, your smile was enough to make his heart flutter and for a moment he couldn't believe a woman as gorgeous as you could have been with him, and not only that, you could have had a baby with him. After so many rejections in life, it was still quite difficult for him to believe that was even possible. The way you looked at him, with your eyes sparkling, the same sweet innocence your daughter carried and how small snowflakes were still on your hair, made him fall in love with you just a little bit harder than usual. Even if it was an impossible love to live, it didn't mean it wasn't there.

He invited you inside, which you gladly accepted, greeting him politely and taking off your coat. He guided you to the kitchen, where he'd prepared you something to warm up - hot chocolate - and a big sandwich, sitting next to you, and loving every single minute where he could simply look at your beautiful face and listen to your voice, as you talked about your day, that way, it would be easier for him to daydream you were just a married couple spending some quality time together after a busy day.

•••

“... so all I'm saying is that I could bring Olivia back and then you both could-”

“No”

“But my mom would love to have her over with us for the holidays an-”

“Marcus I said no”

You sighed exhausted at that conversation, you knew something was up the moment you set foot into your ex’s apartment, you thought maybe he was happy to see you, but apparently all he wanted was to convince you to let him take your baby girl away for the holidays. You shook your head and tried wiping away those thoughts. There was no reason you should get on the defensive at that moment, Marcus had always been nothing but nice and gentle to you, he didn't want to steal Olivia away, in fact, his request was even kind of reasonable, even if you weren't going to agree with it. He had such hopeful eyes, those stupid eyes that made you fall in love with him, because you could see the truth in them, the honesty, the kindness Marcus held onto your heart, and those were the same eyes that prevented you from moving on, you would do so much for him if you could, but not that. It was the only thing you wouldn't give up.

He ran his thumb over his bottom lip - an old habit of his that usually went unknown - and shook his head, sighing in frustration. He couldn't understand why you wouldn't give in just a little, he didn't understand why you played so hard to get when it came to that. You had always agreed on everything as a couple and as parents, he didn't see the reason why you were behaving that way.

“Why not?!” He insisted and for a moment you had the impression of talking with a stubborn child. You'd already said you wouldn't agree to it, but he kept on pushing it, and even if a part of you was annoyed and started to get cranky, you had to be reasonable and remind yourself there was no reason to fight, he was just Marcus, your sweet lovely Marcus, who happened to be the best dad in the world and all he was asking was to spend Christmas next to his little girl. You buried your face into your hands, taking a deep breath and organizing your thoughts for a while before you could face him again.

“I said no because you already have your family to spend Christmas with and I don't, Marcus. If I let Olivia go with you, I'll be completely alone, not to mention the fact she's never been that far away from me before, but that's not what worries me…” you finally admitted out loud. You opened your heart to him for the first time in a very long time. After suppressing your feelings and locking them into a tiny box in the bottom of your heart, they were surfacing once more.

“All I'm saying is that, if you take Olivia, I'll be completely alone at Christmas and I don't want that, I don't want to have to invite myself over to friend's dinner parties and stuff like that, it's depressing and Christmas should be about family, so if you are already traveling and visiting yours, it's only fair I get to spend it with my daughter” you explained it to him.

“Our daughter” he interrupted you and you realized you were acting on the defensive the entire time. You felt insecure, always fearing Olivia loved her dad more than she loved you, even if it sounded madness because yes, she loved her daddy with all her ring little heart, but parenthood wasn't a competition, and even if you understood that, you also had another fear: Olivia simply getting used to distancing herself from you, and then your mind took you to several dark places, where you could only picture the worst scenarios of Marcus remarrying someone eventually, simply because he was too good of a man to remain single; and it scared you your daughter would simply choose to be around her dad and his new wife. You couldn't help suffering in anticipation over a rejection that might not even happen but still haunted it nonetheless. He placed his hand on top of yours, the familiar warmth making your heart skip a beat as he looked into your eyes.

“You could come with us, we could all travel to Texas… What do you say?” and it shattered your heart to have to say no to him once more; Marcus was so sweet but also innocent to think that could even be a possibility.

“I can't Marcus” you said and now he noticed there were some tears threatening to spill down your eyes. He was running out of options and needed to know why you were playing so hard to get, before he could inquire with you, you sighed and continued “you know that's not possible…I'd love to travel with you and Olivia, as a family, I'd love to be able to visit your family, but you know I can't, because you know how your mom feels about me, and not only that, your sisters too”

To say Marcus’ family didn't like you was an understatement. They hated you. And they didn't make any effort to hide it from you, not behind Marcus’ back at least. You didn't know if his mom got overprotective due to the heartbreaks he went through over the last couple of years, or if she was one of those obsessive moms who thought no one was good enough for her son. Either way, you could still feel the burning gaze they shot you when they laid their eyes on you since the first time you'd met. It had been on Olivia’s first birthday party and they didn't hide their thoughts on you having a child with Marcus, nor the fact they straight up assumed you were simply a gold digger who was landing a great child support from the newest head of the art department from the FBI, special agent Marcus Pike.

The man, on the other hand, wasn't clueless, he knew his mom wasn't very fond of you, but he couldn't imagine to what extent that was, he thought it was just some normal rivalry and shook his head, apologizing to you, because of course he would apologize. He was a gentleman after all, and he never wanted anyone or anything hurting you. You sighed and licked your lips, a soft blush spreading across your cheeks

“I think what I mean is that I wish we could all spend Christmas together, you, Olivia and me” you admitted “I don't want to be alone, and I don't want you to be without our daughter, I just wish we had a solution for this”

“We do, honey… I'm not traveling anymore, I'm spending Christmas with you both”

•••

When the realization that Marcus would actually spend Christmas with you and Olivia hit, you were in a mix of anxiety and excitement; on one hand, you wanted everything to be perfect, you couldn't wait to have him around and see the joy in your daughter's face. At first Marcus was supposed to come only for the Christmas lunch, but after some thinking you decided to invite him over for the Eve dinner and he could simply stay over, which he agreed immediately, thrilled to know he would get to spend that long with the two of you. Olivia couldn't contain herself, she had already made drawings to her dad, set all her favorite dolls in order so she could play with him and begged you twice to pick a Disney movie to watch, she'd never been that enthusiastic and you'd be lying if you said you weren't excited too. It was like a dream of having a complete family was coming true; both you and Olivia were looking forward to seeing him, picking up dresses to wear and welcome him home, it was thrilling to think of him, it wasn't a secret to anyone how much you really liked him, and though you had wrong timing together, sometimes it felt like things would work between the two of you, and that was what you honestly hoped for. Preparing some easy dinner, you saw how Olivia jumped off the couch the moment the doorbell rang, you barely had time to open the door and Marcus could set foot inside the house before she jumped on him. Marcus was a big man and quite handy too, so he managed to balance a large bag of gifts, a bottle of wine and a toddler in his arms.

You welcomed him inside with a smile, glad to see him, as Olivia finally got off him, running to her bedroom to find whatever drawing she wanted to show him and helping him place down the table the things he brought, you both hugged. He held you in his arms for several seconds, no words exchanged, no greetings, simply acting out the feelings you perhaps had been keeping too buried deep. He buried his face into your shoulder, taking in as much of you as he could, loving your smell and how you still seemed to fit perfectly against his body. He caressed your face and smiled, saying how good it was to see you.

Dinner was very pleasant in his company, Olivia was so excited she seemed like a puppy, which brought you and Marcus to laughter. It was nice having a nice time like that, it felt like you had a family and it was very good. Sharing a bottle of wine, you and your ex-boyfriend were sitting on the carpet, long after your daughter was asleep and safely tucked in, you both were just hanging out, having your fun and chatting about your old times together. You couldn't stop yourself from drooling over Marcus. God, he was so handsome and sweet, he was also smart and polite, which was a very dangerous combination you'd tried first-hand, hence the whole reason why you ended up pregnant. He tilted his head and laughed, making you lose yourself into him.

“... I said I can still smell you on me” he repeated himself, snapping you out of your daydreaming and making you nearly spit out your wine. He had said what?!

“What?!” The blush spreading across your cheek had a little to do with wine, the way he simply dropped those lines and placed a strand of hair behind your ear made your heart race.

“I meant from earlier, when we greeted each other and your perfume is still lingering on me… I like it” Marcus was a little drunk, you could tell it, he'd always been a cute drunk, always snuggly and willing to progress love words. You chuckled and stroked his cheek.

“I'm glad you liked it… would you believe me if I told you I am wearing it for you?” You decided to instigate him just a little, surprised and amused to feel his hand pulling you closer by the waist, his face so close to yours you could feel his faltering breathing before he finally kissed you. Sealing your lips together, you wrapped your arms around him, deepening the kiss more and more, moaning softly into his mouth, wishing and hoping that moment would last forever. His lips were just as soft as you remembered and the more you leaned against him, the more you desired Marcus. He was tall, strong, he always smelled so perfectly and all you could think of that moment was why did it take so long for the two of you to set things straight? Even if you weren't setting things straight, why did it take you guys so long to actually kiss and simply enjoy each other's touch. You couldn't actually tell, but perhaps that was a Christmas miracle. Breaking the kiss was hard, but the way Marcus’ big hand stroked your cheek, so gently as he looked at you as if you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, was worthy. The way he whispered your name and invested in another kiss, not having enough of you. He wanted more, he didn't want to be just Olivia's dad, he wanted to be there for you too, to hold you after a long day of work, to be able to kiss and stroke you gently and make you his. He didn't need a mistletoe to kiss you over and over and even if it technically wasn't Christmas yet, that was the best gift he could've got.

“I need you” he whispered against your lips “I'm tired of hiding my feelings for you, tired of pretending I'm glad when I'm not, when all I want is Olivia and you in my life, baby girl”

You could've jumped out of happiness right there and then. Marcus wanted you, just as much as you wanted him; it wasn't just delusional to think of a future together, all you had to do was say yes to him. When you were about to kiss Marcus once more, Olivia waddled into the living room, with her special Christmas PJs and messy bed hair and jumped onto his lap.

“Hi daddy!” She yawned cutely and snuggled him, which caused the two of you to chuckle in a soft blush and put your kiss aside for a little while.

You wouldn't be able to tell exactly what time you fell asleep with your family, but when you did wake up, you were in your bed - Marcus had carried you to the bedroom as the gentleman he was, Olivia had been tucked once more between the two of you and drifted off to a sweet slumber, which didn't prevent her from waking up extremely early and squealing at the top of her little lungs in excitement once she spotted the presents Santa had left around the living room, making you chuckle, as she tugged your sleeve and took you to the tree.

“Where's daddy, mommy?” Her beautiful sparkly eyes stared into your own at the same time Marcus walked in with a tray full of fresh made pancakes. Of course the sweet, lovely Marcus Pike would wake up early and make breakfast for his family. Placing the plate down, he smiled at his daughter's excitement, as she shredded all those colorful sparkly gift wrappings. You turned to him, calling him for an embrace, as he wrapped his arms around the two of you.

“I want us to have this every year, everyday of a family waking up together, please honey” Marcus whispered against your neck, and in return, you simply kissed his lips, showing him exactly your answer, you wanted the same too.

Olivia got her toys, her plushies and her cute summer dresses, you gave Marcus new bass strings and a brand new shirt that would just look perfect on him, tightening to the right places, and in return he gifted you a golden bracelet. But in reality, what you had gifted each other was Olivia and you were both about to gift her a brand new family, one that started at Christmas and would go on for as long as there was love between you all.

____

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal one shot #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal christmas special #marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x y/n #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike fanfic #marcus pike one shot #marcus pike christmas special

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undercoverpena · 6 months

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milk and cookies

marcus pike x f!reader

summary: milk and cookies go well together. just like you and marcus - as a halloween costume.

word count: 2.5k warnings: fluff, established relationship. marcus is in love with you, bcus of course he is, you're amazing. dedication: a huge thank you to @thetriumphantpanda for being there for my insane thoughts, for reading this, and also agreeing this outfit is so marcus coded

As soon as Marcus scans eyes over the paperwork on his desk, he knows his evening has gone up in flames. It torched, practically set alight right in front of him.

The warmth from it licks at his skin as he slowly begins to pull out his phone, closing his office door—needing privacy, a semblance of being alone with you.

He hates this. The disappointment that he brings. That he has to explain, again, that he needs to rearrange, change things—uproot a plan he’d been excited to put into place.

“Hey, I was just about to reply to you—”

It almost falls from his tongue, cutting you off—the simple, short apology. When he does it, he’s purposeful with how he laces it with affection. Wanting—needing—you to know that he means it, that he’d rather be with you than anywhere else.

Even if he loves what he does.

Even if what he loves also means letting you down, it practically comes with the job title.

He swallows it, as best as he can. Allows it to crawl back down his throat, lets it remain there—in the pit of his stomach, swirling with all the other things he hates that he has to tell you. Like I’ll be back in a few days, I wish I could lie in bed with you.

Because, even if the two of you have said those three magical words, he still braces for them to be retracted. For his job to the thing that yanks the two of you apart, rips them both down the middle.

“—I just got caught up, and oh, I managed to find that syrup you liked—the one you told me about—so I’ll pop that in my cupboard for the next time you stay here.”

Biting the inside of his cheek, he realises (quickly) that it isn’t going to be today.

“I may have to rain check tonight, baby.”

He waits for the disappointment, a sharp tone—a sigh, all littered with frustration and sharpened by annoyance. But as always, it doesn’t come.

Marcus did not hear anything close to that. If anything, words flow from your tongue, all calm, genuine—all full of understanding: It’s okay, I know you wouldn’t cancel if it weren’t important. Is it a new case?

“I’m really sorry.”

He’s sure he hears you smile.

Sighing, he runs his hand over his face, finger sliding down the bridge of his nose as he slumps himself into his desk chair. Not sure how he can articulate how much he had wanted to see you, had craved nothing more—the thought had been getting him through the day’s meetings and bullshit casework.

The thing—all key-shaped, wrapped in little pumpkins—has been burning a hole in his wallet for the past two weeks while he waited for a moment such as tonight.

Because, fuck you’re so nice. So kind. So understanding. To the point, a part of him worries. Just a little thrum. It there, being plucked like a string, in the moments where he can feel himself falling—all set to slide his foot over the ledge and tumble—what if he chose the wrong time to ask, and broke it—what the two of you have. What he thought he’d found with others, but now he realises had just not been you.

“Plus, I mean, you’d be really upset if someone stole your art,” you add, voice closer to the phone, likely halting whatever it is you were doing to talk to him.

A thought that pulls at the corner of his smile, a thing you do more and more as the weeks turn into months.

Shifting in his chair, he faces himself at the window—the car lights twinkling as they make their way wherever they fancy.

Smirking, he drops his hand to his lap. “There’d be another team involved if someone stole my art.”

“Oh. Well, I mean, still, you’d be needed, wouldn’t you?”

His lips twist further, teeth showing—a smile so large it almost fucking hurt. Because, shit, you’re adorable, funny, beautiful—

“There’d be another team because you’re my art. I don’t really deal with missing people, baby.”

“Oh.” It’s different than the one before—to the point he swears he can feel the heat from your cheeks through the phone. “Well, I—I don’t even know what to say.”

“You don’t… you don’t have to say anything. Just tell me when I can next see you—give me something to look forward to.”

He hears the phone move, likely from one ear to the other.

“It’ll be Friday—at the party.”

“Friday it is then. Can I still call you later?”

He hopes you’re mirroring his smile from where you’re standing. Marcus hopes he’s not alone in this feeling, the one which has come from nowhere, and makes him worry—more than he has before—because he’s not sure he has it in him to fall, crash and burn all over again.

“I’ll look forward to it, Pike. Especially seeing you in your outfit. Now, go and do good. In the meantime, I’ll count down till we’re reunited in the kitchen, which is everyone’s midnight fantasy. If you can make it, that is.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Don’t worry, if you can’t. Your job is important,” you say. “I’ll… find someone else to dunk myself into.”

Your laugh fills his ear, and he smirks in his chair as he sees the time. “Respectfully, baby. No.”

“Go be a hero, and call me when you land.”

“𝙳𝚘 𝙸 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢?” 𝙷𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑, 𝚒𝚝 𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖. 𝙼𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚜𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚠. “𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖?” “𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕, 𝙸 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎, 𝙰𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝙿𝚒𝚔𝚎.” 𝙵𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚛𝚘𝚙 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝. “𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚘 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝙸’𝚖 𝚒𝚗 𝚋𝚎𝚍.” “𝙸 𝚖𝚊𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚣𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚢 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚢, 𝙸’𝚖 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢.” “𝙸’𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝. 𝙻𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝙸 𝚠𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚓𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝙸’𝚖 𝚕𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎.” 𝙻𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚙, 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚙𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚓𝚊𝚠. “𝙾𝚑, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸’𝚍 𝚍𝚘 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎?” “𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎,” 𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚕𝚢. 𝙷𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚞𝚗𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚒𝚎, 𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚓𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚜 𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍.

It had begun as a joke.

You mindlessly scrolling for costume ideas, nestled between his side and the sofa, showing him ones to gauge his reaction. And then you had landed on it.

A grin so big, it could rival the sun with how bright it was—a little kick of your feet that made his chest fill with warmth, happiness and unfiltered joy.

Marcus Pike, will you do me the honour of being the cracker to my cheese?

His finger, though, had scrolled, moved to the next pairing down, grinning—thinking of all the times you’ve found him getting crumbs over the counter.

Rather be the milk to your cookies, baby.

He hadn’t regretted it. Not even when his half arrived, when he had to slide it on in his car—almost getting stuck on the exit of his vehicle as he straightened up outside the address of your friend's home.

Because all he wanted to do was reunite with you.

The days had dragged, and the hours had slumped slowly by. Even the nightly phone calls and occasional texts did nothing to speed it up.

If anything, it just made the question—the one that’s been swirling in worrisome-bile in his chest—more important to ask. Even if the last few times he’d asked a bold question with someone he thought was the one had gone wrong, crumbled away, withered until nothing but weeds were left. h

But then, Marcus supposes, none of those people were you.

As he’d been previously told, he hadn’t needed to knock—the door was unlocked. Immediately greeted by music, by flashes of orange and purple lights as he pushed the door back into the frame behind him. A smile already desperate to cut into his face, the week fading from his shoulders, from his muscles and bones, quickly being replaced by giddiness—a usual symptom of knowing he was going to see you.

Where he’d find you, he wasn’t sure.

A part of him wondered if you really were cliché, and he’d find you in the kitchen, or if you’d be with friends—in the thick of the hustle and bustle, even if you’d told him you didn’t know half the people attending.

People always seemed to like you.

Your kindness shining, practically illuminating—glowing. It’s why he hadn’t really tried to fight falling for you, not at first and not after the first time he sat knee to knee with you at a restaurant table. Because, you were charm, brilliance and captivation, all wrapped up in a person with a stunning smile and a heart of gold.

His thought is cemented when he walks through the open door to his left, and his eyes land on you. You, who is standing nursing a red cup, eyes trained on the window—likely looking for him. Not sure which way he’d have walked up to the house, not realising he’d parked the entire other way—having overshot the house when he’d driven down it.

He’s grateful. Selfishly steals the seconds to just admire you, take you in. Because even if he’s seen you dressed to the nines, bare in his sheets and standing in one of his tees at his kitchen counter, the fact he gets to admire you standing in a costume that matches his, makes his heart skip.

Even more so when your eyes slide across the room, landing on him.

Fuck. He’s sure his heart stops, then.

It’s why he’s grateful time slows. Allows him the chance to restart it as he gets to bear witness to the realisation he’s here, flickers over your face. It absolves the worries and doubts which had been etched into your brows; it vanishes away any nibbling of your bottom lip, that he’s sure you’ve been doing. Instead, it replaces each part of your tinged frown with relief and gratitude.

He should hate it, but it feels like a movie. Not at all factual or sensible, but rather unexplainable and life-altering.

Something he’ll replay when you’re asleep against him, unsure how it is he got to find you in the sea of everything he’d already been lucky to experience.

“You made it,” you say, voice carrying just over the music—standing in front of him.

His lips somehow (between the edge of his milk carton and your inability to twist) manage to find yours, finding they taste a mix of salt and sweetness, spotting the mini-pretzels in your hand. “Of course. Couldn’t leave you here to fend without something to quench your thirst.”

“My hero.”

“You know it.”

Your body curls into him, trying to anyway. Eyes unable to tear themselves away, staring at him, as though he’s hung the stars for you. The two of you silent, admiring—lost entirely in the other until the song changes, snapping you back, reminding you that the two of you aren’t alone.

Even if he wishes you both were.

“C’mon, I need to introduce you to people.”

Before tonight, he’d met most—the ones who matter, you’d explained. But, there were others. Some hidden, disguised too well, behind makeup and SFX that he did wonder if he’d spot them so easily tomorrow when the evening was over.

What he hadn’t banked on, was that you were doing so, to try and carve a place for the two of you to be more secluded, more alone. Moving from room to room, stealing bits of food, cheers’ing your cup, until the two of you were on the back porch—mist blowing from your lips, your sigh heard, loud in the quiet compared to the party inside.

“You having fun, baby?”

Turning your head, you nod—sliding yourself closer to him. “Yeah.”

With minimal awkwardness, he manages to press a kiss on your forehead. Getting a glimpse of your perfume and shampoo, finding it unlocks something—an idea, a thought bubble. Having spent so long looking for perfection, he hadn’t known tonight had been blooming itself to be one.

“Just thinking,” you add.

Sliding his arm around you, he fans his finger out over your back, Humming, resting his head against the top of yours.

“Just that… maybe we can host one of these. You know, one day?”

He feels it hook into the edges of his mouth, a smile growing, sliding up into his cheeks. “Together?”

“Together.”

“Think we should enforce people to dress up as pairings.”

“Oh, for sure. I think we could do better thought—maybe be a piece of art and a paintbrush. Make everyone else be food or something—or their jobs. Otherwise, we’ll just get loads of cops and robbers.”

His laugh rumbles out, feeling you try to move closer next to him—the cookie edge and his carton edge making it difficult.

“Maybe we can do it next year.”

“The outfit? I mean, I think I can make a paintbrush outfit… would need to get on it soon—”

“The hosting,” he adds, cutting you off.

Smirking, you lift your head, tilting it up to see him as he lifts his head from yours, spotting your narrowed eyes. “Is this you asking me to live with you, Marcus Pike?”

Holding up a finger, he fights a laugh. Because if only you fucking knew. His hand slides, shifting under his costume, into his pocket—his wallet emerging, your eyes following his movement.

“So, I’ve been walking around for the past few weeks with this,” he says, undoing the pocket, pulling out a key—one wrapped in pumpkins and little ghouls. “Just... waiting.”

“Oh my…”

“So, baby, if you want to, I’d love you to move yourself and that syrup into my place. I’ll let you decorate my home—our home—from top to bottom and host the most cheesiest party ever.”

“Marcus...”

He licks his lips, turning the key in his finger and thumb. “I really want to keep a close eye on my art, baby.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, baby. More than anything…”

Misting up, he watches your eyes shimmer more under the flashing lights coming through the window, and the bright moon in the sky, before you’re nodding. Softly at first, then enthusiastically, little glitter tears sliding down your cheeks, accompanied by an I love you; I’d love to move in.

Your body tries to move, almost knocking over a plant pot as you try and throw your hands around him.

Clumsy, he thinks, steadying you, cupping your cheek and holding what he can of your side in your costume.

“Weeks, ay?”

Snorting, he swipes his thumb against your cheek. “Trying to find the perfect moment.”

“I think you achieved it.”

“Yeah?”

Nodding, you take the key from his fingers, turning it, before looking back up at him. “I’m so lucky to have you, Marcus.”

I’m lucky to have you, he says. Not with his words. But with his lips against yours, pressing your lower spine to the porch fence—because fuck he loves you.

an: ily all.

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike x female reader #marcus pike x you #pedro pascal characters x reader #pedrostories #the mentalist fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike fic #Marcus Pike fanfic #Marcus Pike fanfiction

158 notes · View notes

agentmarcuspike · 4 months

Text

“t h e l o n g e s t n i g h t”

– a secret santa holiday fic for erin @perotovar ✧

pairing: marcus pike + nonbinary!reader synopsis: left alone in the big city during the longest night of the year, a stranger in a club makes you wish it were even longer. word count: 1.9k a/n: i was so fucking excited when i got you as my giftee, erin. i love everything you make, gifs and stories, and i've been wanting to give something back to you, so i’m grateful for this excuse/opportunity. wanted to post it on the actual solstice, but when i saw you were my secret santa too, i couldn’t wait lol. (a lil shoutout to @scenaaario as well, for being my secret informant.) love u, proud of u!

It's the winter solstice; the shortest day of the year.

But then again, it’s also the longest night.

All of your friends have already gotten on their trains and planes to celebrate the holidays with their families, leaving you to create your own traditions. Usually you’d get out of town as well, hole up somewhere the sky is clearer, the air lighter. Celebrate the return of the sun, the light, the new year, with a bonfire and candles to drive the dark away. From without, so within.

This year is different. A last minute opportunity presenting itself for your best friend; spending the holidays and New Years in Thailand with her Man of the Month, had left you in charge of house sitting, looking after her apartment and moody old cat.

So this year, on the darkest of the nights, unable to escape the city, you’re hoping to make the many hours pass as quickly as possible, the promise of lighter days the only thing you look forward to.

You’ve been staring at yourself in the club’s dirty bathroom mirror for far too long, impatient fists knocking on the door, and you yell at them to give you a second. Face sweaty, eyeliner smudged, eyes empty, you barely recognize yourself. The sheer black shirt you’re wearing is unbuttoned as far as it can be. With a last look at the person in the mirror, you straighten your septum piercing, and make your way out of the bathroom.

The heavy scent of spilled beer and sweaty bodies hit you as soon as you open the door. Thumping music, more bass than tune, tickles your eardrums, and you can feel the sound as waves of prickles on your skin. The soles of your boots stick to the greasy floor where you’re making your way across the room, squeezing through the crowd of people, who are all moving as one; a massive creature with many heads, twice as many arms, and a sole purpose with existence: To dance the night away.

It’s not possible to avoid touching people as you push through to get to the bar, so you try your best to be respectful with your hands, but as you place them carefully on a slim waist to push past, a zap runs through your arm, as if your finger were a fork and this body were electric. Five thousand Volts of static travel between you, and the body your hands quickly withdraw from must have felt it too, because he quickly turns to face you.

Looking down at you, his brows are raised, mirroring yours, mouth slightly agape. A different type of electricity runs through you as your eyes meet. It travels from your face, burning your cheeks, through your throat, removing every trace of moisture on its way to your stomach, where it does a loop, and ends as a throbbing pressure between your legs.

In the short moments of flashing lights, you can make out his features. High cheekbones shadowing his clean shaven face. Slightly crooked nose and sharp jawline. Kind eyes, crinkling at the corners, softening it all out.

You can’t hear him, but his shoulders shake as he laughs, and you laugh too, looking away nervously. He brings your attention back to him when he leans down, mouth to your ear.

“I’d shake your hand, but I’m worried you’ll shock me again.”

His voice is surprisingly deep, but not booming. It has a comforting, gentle glee to it, and his breath tickles the sensitive skin around your ear.

“I’m Marcus,” he finishes before pulling away far enough to look at your face again.

Staring at each other, you can only giggle. You lick your lips before leaning in, lips brushing the shell of his ear as someone bumps into you, pushing you closer. With a hand on his shoulder to steady yourself, you tell him your name.

“And you shocked me!” you accuse.

“Why would I do that?!” Marcus yells, hand on his chest in mock offense.

Something about him has you grinning, your mouth dry, upper lip sticking briefly to your exposed teeth as you close your mouth. He’s funny, he’s cute. You wanna buy him a drink.

Your platform shoes give you some extra height, but you still have to stand on your toes to reach his ear when he stands up tall.

“Thirsty?” you ask, supporting yourself with a hand on his bicep.

“Parched.”

“Drink?”

“Yeah.”

Your hand glides from his upper arm, across his warm skin, feeling the nerves in his forearm flex under your fingers. When your hand reaches his, you squeeze it once before taking the lead, creating a path and guiding you both through the crowd towards the bar.

The music is quieter there, muffled by a thin wall dividing the bar area from the dance floor. You can no longer feel the booming bass in your body, but the way your heart is beating it might as well have slipped inside of you, bruising the inside of your chest bone with insistent thumps, begging to be let back out again.

Marcus leans on the bar bench, and you do the same. Or, at least you try to. Your height makes you feel more like a child being allowed to order hot chocolate by themself for the first time, face peeking over the bar like a meerkat. He must see it too, because he shoves you playfully.

“Wanna sit on my shoulders so you can see?”

You roll your eyes at him. “Yeah, yeah. Heard it all before.”

He turns towards you, looking down at your shoes.

“I mean, even with the platforms…”

“Okay, mister, we’re both well aware of how much I need a couple of inches.”

Your accidental innuendo catches him off guard, and he just stares at you for a second.

“No, wait–” you begin.

“Wow!”

“I didn’t– That wasn’t what I–”

But it’s too late, you’re already blushing, burying your face in your hands as you groan.

Marcus just laughs, patting your back with a soft, gentle hand.

“All good, don’t worry. How about we start with two fingers?”

It’s your turn to be speechless. Not sure whether to be impressed or offended by his abrasiveness, you look back up towards him, but he’s not looking at you. You follow his gaze to the bartender, who’s busy filling two glasses with… two fingers of whiskey.

Marcus accepts the glasses from the bartender, and hands you one with a satisfied smirk.

“It’s gonna be a long night if you keep this up,” you murmur, shaking your head playfully as you smile into the glass.

“I’ll drink to that,” Marcus grins back, finishing his drink in one go.

He looks at you expectantly, and with a grimace you down your own, before you let him grab you by the hand and pull you back towards the dance floor.

Marcus’ hands softly grip your waist as you move to the music. He gracefully guards you, quickly and easily twirling you out of the way whenever someone grinds too close. Your own hands rest on his broad shoulders, one of them moving slowly to the back of his neck, your thumb drawing small circles over the soft skin behind his ear.

He closes his eyes, leaning to rest his forehead against yours, and you swear you can feel the vibrations of him purring through his chest.

You’re no longer following the music, your bodies swaying to the steady pulse of your own hearts, which are beating in unison, a tango for just the two of you.

Marcus’ dark eyes flutter open, so close you can barely focus. His nose brushes yours as he leans in all the way, connecting his lips with yours. Soft at first, mouths closed, firmly pressed against each other. With your hands on his neck, you pull him down towards you, closer, closer, closer, and his hands on your waist grip you tighter.

He breaks away, nuzzling his nose against your cheek as he moves to your neck, where he presses open mouthed kisses to the sensitive skin, sucking lightly. A shiver runs through you, leaving goosebumps from your tailbone to the very top of your head. You turn towards him, seeking his mouth with your own.

This time you part your lips to invite him in, poking your tongue out ever so slightly. He accepts your invitation, feeding you his tongue back, the residue of whiskey coating it burning deliciously. It’s soft, your mouths working together instead of fighting for dominance, but it quickly grows more needy, two sets of hands grabbing and pulling, searching for something to hold onto.

Your hands settle on his lower back, finding the waistband of his pants, hooking your fingers in his belt hoops. With a quick tug, you pull his hips flush with yours, and he gasps into your mouth. He pulls away, just far enough to look into your eyes properly. A question between you, pulled tight like a rubberband. Requesting permission to move further. You nod at him once, giving him the green light, and the rubberband snaps as his lips once again connect with yours.

And he indulges. His hands travel to rest at your lower back, before sliding down to cup your ass, squeezing once. You catch yourself wishing, for the first time in your life, that you’d worn a skirt, so you could have felt his big hands against your skin. The cramped mass of people dancing around you are oblivious to your endeavor, only bumping into you every now and then, but Marcus doesn’t let you budge an inch, holding you tight, a hand on your ass and one arm sneaking around your back, holding onto your waist.

Your thumbs find the sliver of skin between his waistband and his shirt. With slow movements, in contrast to the quick blinking of lights seeping through your eyelids, you draw tiny circles on the soft skin of his narrow waist. One of his hands moves back to your face, thumb resting against your lower lip as he delicately pulls on it with his teeth, soothing the sting with his tongue immediately. You wish he’d have bitten harder, drawn blood. That he’d taste you, mix the fluid from your veins with the ones of his mouth. Swallow you.

He thrusts against you once, seeking friction, hard and impatient underneath his clothes. Had he shoved his hands down yours, he would have found you dripping as well; so slick and ready to take him. But all you can do with the crowd of people moving around you is hold on tight, and hope for an opening, however small, between atoms, letting your bodies move inside each other, the way his tongue does in your mouth, and your hand, secretly between your bodies, gently covering his protruding bulge.

You squeeze him gently, and you can feel his lashes flutter against your nose as he rests his forehead against yours, his mouth open in a silent moan.

The dance floor doesn’t exist anymore. It’s just the two of you now. Two hungry bodies, two lonely souls. You hear no more music, ears filled only with the sound of rushing blood. All you can taste is whiskey, and all you can see is him. You catch yourself wishing that this night, the longest one of the year, would last just a little while longer.

— happy holidays !!! x

#space sisters secret santa 2023 #marcus pike x reader #except reader is specifically Erin lmao #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike fanfic #marcus pike x you #my writing #useroaks #perotovar

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daddy-dins-girl · 5 months

Text

Playdate - Chapter Four

I'm sorry this took forever. To make up for it, here is over 13k of pure and utter filth. Enjoy...

Main Masterlist Series Masterlist

AO3 link

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Marcus Pike x f! Reader x Dave York

Word Count: 13.1k (whoops?)

Chapter Summary: It's porn, but with sprinkles of feelings. Also, Dave's wish finally comes true ;) Well, one of them at least.

Chapter Warnings: 18+ MDNI. F/M/M threesome. Cucking/Wife sharing. Voyeurism. Derogatory Language. Daddy kink. Praise kink. Soft!Dave York. Dom!Dave York. PerfectHusband!Marcus Pike. Oral sex (m and f receiving). Unprotected p in v sex. Creampie. Rough p in v sex. Overstimulation. Biting. Slaps/spanks/swats (just a few). Sex toys. Anal play/fingering/rimming/sex (f receiving). If I missed anything else lmk!

Early the next morning (or, more accurately, in the middle of the night) you’re woken up by your very eager husband. A tired little moan escapes your lips when your eyelids begin to blink open, forced awake by the hot incessant mouth currently at your neck that’s licking and nipping and sucking at the tender flesh it manages to find in the dark and leaving a trail of tiny goosebumps in its wake.

“Baby?” you breathe out, brain still foggy but your body certainly caught up as you feel the all too familiar tingling sensation reach all the way to your toes.

“Need you” is all Marcus offers, words muffled into your throat.

You’re lying on your back and the bedclothes have been thrown off, leaving your naked body victim to the cool night air drafting in through the partially open window of the bedroom and Marcus is lying on his side, one arm underneath you and the other holding your face while he ruts his hips into your leg once, letting you know exactly just how much he needs you when the evidence of his arousal grinds into your hip.

You don’t know what’s gotten into him, but you’re certainly not mad at it. He’s not usually one to wake up in the dead of night needy for you (if anything, it was always the other way around) but you’re loving how desired he’s making you feel, how he seemingly just can’t help himself tonight.

It’s hot.

“Mmm, my poor baby” you giggle in response, reaching for his hand at your face and dragging it down to your breast. He hums in response and gives the mound a light squeeze before his fingers make delicate work of teasing your nipple with little pinches and pulls.

“Fuck, you were so hot tonight” Marcus breaths into your skin, voice already sounding desperate as he grinds into your hip again. His hand drifts from your chest down your stomach until it reaches between your legs and he moans when his fingers meet the sticky slick between your folds.

“Yeah? Tell me what you liked baby” you whimper while Marcus explores your sex with skilled digits, pushing all the way down to your entrance before coming back up to tease at your clit and repeating the action. “Wanna hear it”

“Fuck, I love how turned on you get” Marcus begins his confession, his touch getting a little more eager, more insistent. “Watching you let go. Love how hard you cum when we both make you cum together”

“Oh god” you whine quietly. You’re not sure if it’s Marcus’ words or his fingers that are driving you more crazy right now. You wrap your hand around his arm that’s over top of you, needing something to hold onto while your hips are canting off the bed, desperate to chase the pressure of his fingers.

“Wanna be inside you” Marcus breathes into your ear. “Please honey”

You nearly sob in response, aching and needy for him as well as you nod your head. Despite the multiple orgasms between the two of you earlier tonight the one thing that had been missing was Marcus inside you and you realize it’s been nearly a week since the last time you’d made love, no wonder you missed him so badly.

His fingers leave you and he rolls over top of you, settling between your legs and holding himself up on his elbows. One hand comes down to brush the hair from your face before he leans in and presses his lips to yours.

“Ok?” He asks as he lines himself up at your entrance and waits for your go-ahead.

“Mmhmm. Just… go slow ok?” You ask, still feeling sore from the pounding Dave had given you earlier. A dull throb between your legs you have a feeling you’re going to be walking around with for days to come. Not that you’re complaining, mind you.

“You sore baby?” He asks, frown appearing on his sweet face and tone laced with concern. “We don’t have to…” he starts to trail off but you reach up and place a hand on his cheek and lock eyes with him.

“No, please. Marcus, I need you” you plead softly. “Please baby, I’m ok”

Marcus answers with a slight nod of his head and a push of his hips until the head of his cock is sheathed in your warm entrance and you both moan in unison, feeling so good to finally have him inside of you again. He doesn’t bury himself all the way in, mindful of your body and not wanting to cause you any further discomfort. He just gently pumps his hips, shallow little thrusts, just barely past his tip. In and out, in and out.

“Is that ok?” He asks, checking in with you and already sounding a little breathless.

“Yes baby, feels so good” you moan, both your hands coming around him to hold onto his ass as he rocks into you. “Kiss me all better with your cock, just like that”

“Fuck,” Marcus groans at your choice of words, his eyes closing shut and he breathes through his nose to force himself to concentrate.

“Baby come here,” you pout, bringing your hands up to wrap around the back of his head and pulling him down for a kiss. His tongue slides inside to brush against yours and you moan appreciatively, your hands carding through his soft hair. “Missed having you inside me” you murmur against his lips when you break apart for air and a desperate little whine escapes Marcus as he nods his head against your forehead.

“Me too baby”

You slide your arms underneath his and then reach your hands up to curl them around his shoulders and gently pull him down on top of you and he lets you, his weight more on top of you now and the shift in position causes him to sink further inside of you.

“Oh my god” Marcus groans, mouth hot against your ear as he begins to kiss all over the side of your face.

Despite the soreness between your legs, having Marcus inside of you is everything you need. With each gentle push of his hips you feel the dull pain fading away as pleasure takes hold instead. Needing to feel more of him you cautiously bring your legs up and lock your ankles together behind his lower back, your heels digging into soft flesh.

“Fuck honey, I love you so much” he confesses, burying his face in your neck as he takes your queue and lowers his hips the rest of the way until he’s buried all the way in and you both moan when he fully bottoms out and stills his hips.

“Oh my god I could fucking cum already” Marcus groans, still unmoving and trying to get control of himself. Having not made love to you for days combined with everything that had happened earlier this evening he’s finding himself teetering dangerously close to the edge already but he wants to be able to last. You feel too good around him to end it so early.

“I’m sorry, I need a minute” he apologizes, pushing himself up on his forearms so he can stare down at you and your hands fall away from his shoulders.

“Marcus don’t ever be sorry with me” you tell him sincerely, brushing the back of your hand against his cheek and his eyes close at your tender touch. “Take all the time you need baby, I’ll just keep you warm” you tease, winking at him.

“You’re so fucking perfect” Marcus sighs. “How’d I get so lucky?”

“Mmm, I’m the lucky one” you counter, brushing your hands through his hair again and holding the back of his head. “You’re so good to me baby”

“I love you” he tells you again, barely above a whisper before he tilts his head down and kisses you soundly. A tiny moan escapes your throat when he gently rocks his hips into you, starting to move again.

“You feel amazing” he murmurs against your lips before he begins trailing kisses to the side of your face, down your jaw and to your throat. His body lowers down onto yours again as he continues to rock into you with shallow thrusts, staving off his own impending release.

“Oh Marcus,” you mewl, arms wrapping around his neck again to keep him as close as possible. “Please don’t stop baby, keep going. Need to feel you, please” you whine. Now that you’ve had a taste again after what seems like so long you don’t want him to leave you anytime soon.

“I won’t baby, I won’t” he promises, continuing with the slow and sensual slide of hips, filling you so completely every time his pelvis brushes against yours.

And he doesn’t stop. Marcus makes love to you literally until the sun comes up. It’s lazy and slow and passionate and the height of intimacy. You’re wrapped around him, limbs entangled and mouths everywhere as they kiss and lick and whisper little adorations into the heat of each other’s skin. You’ve come twice already and somehow Marcus has managed to hold himself off but you know that not only is he exhausted but he’s desperate for his own release. He stops mid-fuck occasionally to either just still inside of you for long minutes or pull out of you and take himself in his own hand, needing a breather and to hold off his orgasm and he looks so beautiful when he does that, you think to yourself. Muscles taught everywhere as his back arches and he tries desperately to hold himself together, jaw clenched and eyes closed like there’s an invisible thread threatening to snap.

“Please baby, please cum” you whisper into his ear while he continues to slowly rock in and out of you. It’s been well over an hour, probably nearing two, and you don’t have another orgasm in you to give. You know your body and she’s waving the white flag.

“Yeah?” Marcus breathes, hips picking up the pace only slightly. “You want it inside you?”

“Yes baby. Let go, fuck me. Need you to fuck me, please” you whimper and Marcus groans, arm coming down to lift your right leg up so he can push deeper inside of you and he sets a much faster pace, finally chasing his own much needed release.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck” he gasps, hips pistoning into you hard and fast, eyes closed in concentration. "Oh god, I'm close"

“Look at me baby, I wanna see you” you beg and Marcus is helpless against your soft little pleas, his eyes opening and staring into yours as he feels himself falling apart.

“Shit, baby I… fuck” he lets out a final groan as he buries himself to the absolute hilt and stills, cock pulsing as it spills deep inside of you.

“Oh my god, oh fuck,” he’s panting, pulling back just slightly before rocking back into you again and again, slow deep thrusts as he fucks his cum back inside of you. “Oh fuuuuuck you feel so good”

You love when he gets like this, completely wrecked for you and you wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him down until his full weight rests on top of you, his cock still twitching deep inside and you wrap your legs around his back again to hold him there for as long as he’ll allow it.

You both end up falling back asleep with him still inside of you and you call out to work that morning when you do finally wake up, deciding you deserve to take a “personal day”. You spend the whole day in bed together, kissing and cuddling and just wrapped up in each other’s embrace.

*****

It becomes an unspoken agreement between the two of you after that. In the days upcoming to whenever Dave comes over again you and Marcus refrain from having sex, knowing now how good it feels to have missed each other when you’re finally back in each other's arms again after Dave pulls the painfully taught thread loose and unravels you both. His visits start becoming a little more frequent, too. It's become essentially a bi-weekly routine you've set since your impromptu “sick day” with Marcus and today marks the third visit since then (the sixth time overall, not that you’re keeping count).

Tonight however will be a little different as Marcus has decided he wants to take on more of an observant role rather than a participatory one like he usually does. Dave is due at your door any minute and Marcus has already texted, letting Dave know you need to be taken care of.

It’s a vicious cycle, really. Marcus gets off on you getting off, and seeing how worked up Marcus gets up from it only gets you hotter. And Dave, well. Dave seems perfectly content being along for the ride and ultimately being the reason for you both taking your pleasure to new heights. And given his increased visits and never declining an invitation, it’s clear Dave is getting as much as he gives, too. A vicious cycle, as you said. You’re honestly shocked at how well everything is going between the three of you.

The familiar knock at your door pulls you from your thoughts and you look over at Marcus excitedly.

“Go answer it” Marcus nods towards the door with a cheeky little grin on his lips before settling himself back into the couch. It’s normally Marcus who does while you’re waiting upstairs so despite it being something as mundane as answering the door, there’s a little thrill that runs through you as you hurry over to it and pull it open.

You don’t even get a greeting past your lips before Dave is on you. He pushes himself inside, arms wrap around you and hands go straight to your ass as he gives it a firm squeeze as he turns you, slamming the door shut by force with your back by pressing your bodies into it. His mouth is at your throat, devouring every inch of flesh at his disposal that isn’t covered by your flimsy silk robe. It’s all tongue and teeth and desperation and you clutch at his shoulders, letting your head fall back in a soft thud against the door to give him better access.

One of his hands leaves your ass and you feel it at your waist before he pulls on the sash of your robe and it parts open. His warm hand is on your stomach next, traveling upwards to knead into your breast and he moans into your throat when he feels the naked flesh of you. You’ve quickly come to realize that wearing too much clothing around Dave is just a waste of time in the end so tonight you’re only in a pair of panties and your knee-length robe which Dave is currently pushing off your shoulders to pool at your feet.

“So fucking naughty for me tonight aren’t you? All ready for me” Dave growls into the juncture where your neck meets your shoulder and gently bites down, causing a hiss of pain to escape your lips and your hands fly to his hair, nails scraping against his scalp and tugging at the short dark chocolate strands.

He’s feisty tonight. You like it.

“Turn around” he orders gruffly, both hands coming to your hips and turning you in his grasp so you face the door. He manhandles you into the position he wants, your wrists crossed over top of each other against the door and your forehead leaning against them then he kicks your legs wider apart and pulls your hips back so your spine is arched and your ass is stuck out, pressed against his crotch. He gives an exploratory thrust of his hips, his obvious desire for you unmistakably hard, even through the thick material of his pants as he pushes it into the soft flesh of your ass.

“Just like that” he breathes before he brings one hand up to grip the back of your neck and keep your face against the door and his right comes down to land a hard blow to your ass cheek and you jump in surprise, something between a gasp, a shout and a moan leaving your lips.

“Good girl” Dave praises, hand gently smoothing over what is surely a deep red mark already. His hand wanders then, going around your front and between your legs instead and he presses two fingers into your heat, chuckling darkly when he feels how wet you are already.

“Oh you missed your Daddy, didn’t you?” He breathes into your ear as his fingers circle your clit and a little sob escapes you.

“Answer me” he growls, taking your earlobe between his teeth and then pressing your face harder into your wrists with the grip he has on the back of your neck.

“Yes! Fuck, I missed you Daddy” you cry out. “I’m so wet for you”

That seems to appease him for now as his hand leaves your neck, his teeth release you and his tongue soothes over it instead before he gently pulls the lobe into his mouth and sucks greedily.

“That’s all right baby, I’ll take care of you” he murmurs against your ear before planting a soft kiss just behind it. “You need to cum, hmmm? Need me to play with this little pussy for a bit?” he asks and you whimper, nodding your head frantically against your wrists. It’s been over a week since you were last with Marcus (your period truly had a cruel sense of humor sometimes) and you’ve been on edge for days, desperate for a release and Dave was already quickly unraveling you.

“Please,” you whine, not caring how needy you sound, you know Dave likes it anyway.

“Turn around for me sweetheart” he instructs, his hands leaving you and he takes a slight step back giving you room. You do as you're told, turning around and leaning back against the door. Eye to eye again, Dave cradles your face in his large hands and surges forward, crashing his mouth into yours, tongue instantly demanding entrance which you grant happily and he swallows down all your little moans while he kisses you until you're breathless. His hands leave your face to slip between your back and the door to grope at your ass, large palms massaging while nimble fingers dig into the soft flesh, threatening to leave bruises as a reminder for you of who this ass belongs to. Not that you could forget, he's sure to remind you just about every time you see him.

His kisses eventually slow as you both gulp for air between desperate presses of your lips together until he finally pulls away from them entirely and starts trailing his mouth down your throat instead, to your collarbone, the valley between your breasts and steadily downwards as he slowly sinks to his knees in front of you following the descent of his mouth.

“Oh my god,” you whimper, hands pushing through his hair as he’s kneeled eye level with your aching and needy sex. You need him so badly and he knows it, so he deliberately takes his time.

He plants little kisses along your waist, your hips, his tongue teasingly prodding under the waistline of your panties and you're cursing yourself now for even wearing them. He presses a single kiss to the damp center of them at your mound and then passes over the rest of you to plant little kisses to the insides of your thighs instead. Your head falls back against the door again, your breathing uneven and coming out in short little huffs while your fingers continue to rake through his hair.

“Put this leg up on my shoulder baby” he instructs, patting the thigh of your left leg and you obey, hooking it over his shoulder while his hand grips at your waist to hold you steady against the door.

“Good girl” he tells you before nuzzling his nose into your heat, breathing in your scent through the soaked little scrap of fabric keeping you apart. “Ruining your panties like my good little slut, hmm? Aughta shove them down your throat, give you a taste of what a good girl you are for me”

“Oh fuck,” you whisper breathlessly. In all honesty you’d probably let him do whatever he wants to you right now, you’re so desperate.

He takes the knuckle of his index finger and drags a line down your center overtop of your panties, applying just the right amount of pressure and your knees nearly buckle. You whimper pathetically and it only spurs his teasing on, deciding to replace his finger with his tongue; pointed tip dragging a delicious stripe up the center of your already dampened panties before he begins to just kiss and lick all over them.

“Oh please, please, please” you whimper so softly he barely hears it and for a moment you’re not even sure you’ve said it out loud, the blood rushing to your ears drowning everything else out.

Apparently he does hear you though because not a moment later he’s grabbing a fist full of your underwear and yanking them aside as his mouth finally descends on your bare cunt and he begins to devour you whole.

“Oh fuck! Oh fuck, fuck, fuck!” You gasp out. One hand flies to the door handle to give you something more to hold onto and the other one clutches into his hair, keeping him impossibly close as feasts on you with unprecedented enthusiasm.

Your eyes fly open and somewhere in the haze of lust you notice Marcus, standing across at the other end of the hall of the entryway now, leaning against the doorframe. His hand slowly strokes over the bulge in his pants and his gaze never leaves you, needing to be witness to the moment you fall apart. He loves this, sharing your pleasure with you. Loves the way your mouth parts, how the muscles in your abdomen tighten and contract with each labored breath, the way your eyes threaten to close but you fight so hard to keep them open for him.

The two of you had a long, very candid conversation not long ago when the frequency of Dave’s visits increased. You promised each other from the start that you’d be open and honest and agreed that communication was paramount if this was going to work and that if anything started to change, you’d address it head on.

And it had. Changed.

What started out as an endeavor for Marcus to learn from Dave and be able to offer you the things in your sex life that weren’t there before turned into a realization for you both after spending time with Dave. You didn’t want Marcus to be like Dave, you wanted Marcus to be Marcus, but you still wanted to have Dave. Dave was a craving. A particular itch that seemingly only he could scratch; the only one you wanted to scratch it.

You didn’t want Marcus to change. You love him so much and you absolutely love how he takes care of you in bed and you realize that maybe the reason it wasn’t ‘working’ when the two of you tried new things is because it wasn’t meant to. You still wanted the man you fell in love with. Dave offered you something else and you were honest with Marcus when you told him you like that too. It’s sexy and exciting and both your sex lives were better for it, neither of you could argue that. Marcus agreed. He loved how hot Dave could make you, and he liked himself to be the one to step in and take care of you the way he longed to either during or afterward. He wasn't as comfortable or confident in his ability to provide for you what Dave did, but he wanted you to have it (for himself as much as for you). And so it was settled. Dave stayed. You weren’t sure how long he’d want to be in your lives for, you had yet to have a real conversation between the three of you about it but for now you were happy that things were going as well as they were.

So now, when you stand across the room from your husband with another man between your legs and he stares into your eyes, you know there’s only love and desire there. No jealousy or resentment, just the love of your life ensuring your every happiness and it turns you on nearly as much as what’s going on below your waist.

Dave’s tongue is everywhere, driving you mad with want for long minutes on end and you can do little but try and focus any concentration you have on keeping yourself upright while he has you at his complete mercy, eating you out like you’re his last meal and meant to be savored. He licks long broad stripes up your center with the flat of his tongue, laps into your folds, sucks your throbbing clit into his mouth and even fucks into you with his tongue occasionally. While you're no stranger to having a mans mouth between your legs for long periods of time (Marcus would spend hours down there if you'd let him), it's definitely not the same when you're not flat on your back. Your every muscle strains with the effort to keep yourself upright while every nerve ending is tingling from the sensations caused by Dave's skilled mouth and tongue and eventually, barely able to take anymore, your legs threaten to give out from under you.

“Shit!” Your legs are like jelly and you nearly feel like you’re about to topple over him, your arm shooting out to catch yourself on Dave's shoulder when suddenly Marcus is there. He grabs both of your arms and shoves them up over your head and into the door, his hands holding at your wrists. The brief flicker of surprise you feel at his sudden action is quickly overcome by sheer arousal. Marcus holding you down while Dave pleasures you sends a flood of arousal straight to your core and a strangled sob escapes your lips. His stance is mirroring yours from earlier, legs spread wide, his body leaned forward towards you at his waist because Dave is on the floor between the two of you and Dave groans into your cunt when he flicks his gaze upwards and sees what’s happening above him. He begins to double his efforts then, starts licking through your folds again with an increased pace and pressure and sensing how close you are shoves two fingers inside of you and begins frantically flicking his tongue back and forth over your clit, over and over and over while his digits pump in and out of you and it's not long until you’re falling apart.

“Oh my god, I’m fucking cumming” you wail, eyes locked onto Marcus’ while Dave doesn’t let up, apparently intent on driving you to the brink of your sanity as wave after wave of arousal rushes out of you and he happily laps it all up, face deep in your cunt and moaning into you as he licks and finger fucks you through every deliriously exquisite second of your release.

Your leg up on his shoulder is trembling from your orgasm and Dave thankfully extracts his fingers and slows his mouth to greedy little swipes of his tongue, cleaning up the mess he’s made of you before he carefully lifts your leg from his shoulder and places it back to the ground. Marcus lets go of you too, taking your hands in his and then placing them down on Dave’s shoulders so you can hold yourself steady again and he takes a step to the side so Dave can rise up from the floor. The moment he’s up your left arm wraps around his neck, pulling him against you and the other tugs Marcus forward so you can wrap it around his neck too and you're hugging both of them to you, their bodies pressing you into the door on either side of you. You feel them press a little closer together as Marcus slings his own arm around Dave’s waist, hand clutching into his shirt.

“Oh my god,” You sigh, pressing a kiss into the side of Dave’s head before turning and doing the same to Marcus. Both strong bodies hold you up against the door while tremors continue to rack your entire body, your legs shaky and unsteady underneath you. Dave is breathing heavily into your neck from his efforts and Marcus isn’t faring much better, but for slightly different reasons that you can feel pressing hard into your hip.

“Baby, you came so fucking hard” Marcus laughs into your throat. “That was so hot” he confesses before pressing a kiss to your neck.

You ruffle his hair with your hand and then turn your face back towards Dave and place a quick kiss to the shell of his ear.

“Thank you Daddy” you whisper against it and he hums into your shoulder.

“Nearly had me coming in my pants, naughty little slut” he growls into your skin before giving you a gentle little bite and soothing over it with his tongue. He brings a hand up and pinches a nipple between his thumb and index finger and high pitched gasp escapes you followed by a delightful little squeal of laughter.

“Mmm, take me upstairs, show me how bad I’ve been” you suggest seductively and both men groan into the hot flesh of your throat.

It’s Marcus who leaps into action first, ready and eager to really get started. He lets go of Dave and places a hand behind your knees and scoops you up into his arms and kisses you before he heads for the stairs, carrying you bridal style the entire way up with Dave trailing closely behind.

“You sure you don’t wanna fuck her? She’s ripe for the picking” Dave offers, giving Marcus a quick little wink right after he’s set you down on the bed.

“You two have fun, I’ll make it up to her later” Marcus promises you, placing a kiss at the corner of your lips before he pulls away from you and goes to sit at the armchair on the other side of the bed. You make quick work of ridding yourself of your panties and tossing them aside, not wanting them in the way anymore and Dave raises an eyebrow at your eagerness.

“Oh we’ll have fun” Dave chuckles darkly. “Come here” he growls at you before he grabs you by the ankles and yanks you forward so you’re on your back, your ass at the edge of the mattress, near threatening to fall off.

His hands grip around your hips as his thumbs press into your pelvis, massaging in tight little circles with just the right amount of pressure and he pushes his still clothed groin against yours to prove his point of just how hard you've made him already. You whimper when it presses right into your center and grinds down with a promise of what's to come

"Yeah you need this cock, don't you sweetheart?" Dave breathes out, eyes sliding shut and you know he needs it just as much as you do. Not that he'd ever admit that. He likes it when you're the one begging.

"Mmmhmmm" You nod your head. "I need it so bad, please"

He takes a step away from you then, hands leaving you as well.

“Open up wide for me baby” he instructs, tapping his hand at the outside of your thigh and you lift your legs into the air, bent at your knees and spread them into a v-shape.

“Wider” he demands, grabbing both your thighs and pushing down until you’re near doing the splits in front of him, your knees almost touching down on either side of the mattress if you went much further. It’s definitely as far as you can go without causing yourself physical harm and thankfully Dave doesn’t push further, seemingly satisfied with you.

"That's it" he grins. "Hold them open" He instructs and you have to hook your arms under your knees and bring your hands around to grab around your ankles just to keep in the position he wants you in. Your heart is racing already and he hasn't even begun, just being so vulnerable for him makes the anticipation palpable.

"Mmm, that's my good girl, look at you on display for me" he clicks his tongue and then puts two of his fingers into his mouth and wets them before bringing them down between your legs to stroke through your folds and spread your arousal around before briefly pushing his fingers inside of you while his other hand other works on pulling his belt free and releasing himself from the confines of his pants. He spits into his own hand and brings it down to his member, pumping himself a few times before he lines himself up with your entrance, removes his fingers and with one push of his hips, sinks inside of you.

“Oh fuck” you whimper at the way he’s able to press so impossibly deep with the way you’re spread open for him.

“Shit” Dave curses as well, stilling for a moment and his hands come down to rest on your legs. He's not forcing you further open, but keeping just how he wants you. He knows the harder he fucks you the more inclined you’re going to be to try and move, voluntary or not. He slides completely out of you and then slowly back in, repeating the action a couple times just to tease you and it's working as you whimper above him, attempting to chase his cock with shallow movements of your hips.

“Don’t fucking move” he warns, squeezing the meat of your thighs for emphasis. “You’re gonna stay just like this and be a good little fuckdoll for me, hmm?” He asks you and quickly nod.

“Yes Daddy”

“That’s my girl” he praises before he pulls his hips back and slams into you, causing you to shift slightly up the mattress with the sheer force of his thrust.

“Oh my god, fuck!” you gasp out, the wind nearly knocked out of you from how deeply he hits inside of you. Your legs are trembling already just trying to keep them spread and it’s a good thing Dave was there to help hold onto them because you definitely wouldn’t be able to hold the position long otherwise.

His hand comes down to slap against your clit and another jolt rocks your body as a breathy gasp escapes your lips.

"I told you not to fucking move" He snarls, cock stilled and buried inside you, his hands moving to grip roughly at your hips. "Either be still while I fuck you or we're just gonna sit here like this all night with you keeping my dick warm until one of us fucking passes out and sweetheart, it ain't gonna be me"

Oh fuck.

Your legs are already like jelly from earlier and with the position he's got you in now they're already shaking with the effort to keep them open for him and you don't doubt he'll punish you for as long as he believes you can stand it so you're not about to take that chance.

"I'm sorry Daddy, please, I'll be so good for you. Please, please fuck me"

"That's better" he smirks. He snaps his hips again, another deep, hard thrust but this time not only is Dave holding your hips but you're prepared for it and brace yourself for the impact and thankfully you don't shift up the mattress this time.

"See, you can do it" Dave praises your efforts, rewarding you with another equally rough snap of his hips.

“God you’re so fucking deep” you groan out, eyes nearly rolling back into your head and he rewards you with another.

“Yeah, you feel me in there" he huffs a little laugh at your expense, hand leaving your hip to come down and pat against the lower part of your stomach just above your waistline. "Gonna rearrange your goddamn guts sweetheart” he threatens before he puts his hand back at your hip and really starts fucking you in earnest. He sets a ruthless pace immediately and he was right, you can practically feel him in your fucking stomach with every slam of his hips into yours, pushing so deep, so hard and so fast. Your little whines and whimpers only encourage him too. He likes you to be loud, to tell him how good it feels and makes it his mission to pull those sounds out of you.

And he does. You’re a whimpering, whining, mewling mess beneath him within minutes of this starting, making all kinds of desperate noises for him that you barely even recognize yourself.

“Taking me so good baby, fuck” he growls, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips while he pounds you into submission. You cry out when he hits a particularly deep spot and he takes that information and runs with it. Rutting into you over and over again at the same angle, teeth bared, neck veins prominent and breathing labored with his exerted efforts.

“Oh my god, right there, yes” you cry as you feel your walls begin to flutter. “Oh I’m so close”

"Let go baby, let go" Dave commands, slamming into you over and over. His right hand comes down so his thumb can press into your clit and you come almost immediately; hips arching off the bed as best they can given your position and Dave chases every last second of your release as you gush around him until your hips slow and you finally begin to settle again, little whimpers of 'oh my god' and Dave's name falling from your lips.

“Fuck!” Dave growls again and finally gives you some relief for your legs and untangles your limbs to wrap your legs around his waist instead as he begins to grind into you. "So good baby" he praises.

He continues to rut into you and it's not long before you're feeling another orgasm coming on on fast and strong, hot on the heels of your last one. His right hand leaves your hip and you hear some rustling around. You try to crane your neck the best you can to see what's going on but it turns out you don't need to see, the faint buzzing sound coming to life let's you know exactly what he'd been digging around your nightstand for.

"Want you to scream for me Sweetheart" Dave grunts as he lowers the bulbous head of the vibrator wand to your clit and presses down.

"Oh fuck!" You cry out, hips jolting at the sudden infliction but Dave brings his other hand to press down on your stomach, holding you still before he begins fucking into you again at the same angle as earlier. His hips thrust rough and fast while he presses the wand tightly against your clit and rubs it around in tight little circles, feeling your impending orgasm approach again as your legs tighten around his waist and he hears you gasp.

"Oh keep going, oh please, please, please" you cry, edging on the cusp of orgasm, every nerve ending in your body tingling and begging for release. Your toes curl inward and your ankles lock around the small of Dave's back as little white spots start to form around your vision when your eyes squeeze shut.

"Oh god, oh yes. Fuck, yes, yes, yes, ohhhhh!" You come with a scream, your orgasm lasting for several long seconds as your back arches off the bed and your hands fist into the bed covers beneath you. You can feel your release gushing out of you like a steady stream and you’re so fucked out you feel like you could pass out. Dave doesn't let up either. He thankfully tosses the toy aside but continues fucking you through it the whole time until your walls finally begin to unclench and the death grip your legs had around his waist loosens.

“Holy shit” you breathe out in a little laugh, your post orgasmic haze giving you the giggles. Dave slows, thankfully, to just lazy little thrusts. He’s still rock hard inside you so you know he hasn’t finished yet but he’s giving you some reprieve it seems, slowly fucking you down from your high.

Both his hands come to lay flat on your stomach and smooth upwards until he has your breasts in his large palms, gently massaging them in his grasp. “Look at you, fucking cockdrunk” Dave tuts, but you can see the little smile on his lips, pleased with himself that he’s gotten you into this euphoric state. You find it wildly arousing that he has zero qualms about using toys to help you achieve greater orgasms. Others you had been with in the past, Marcus excluded, had been weird about it. Almost jealous like they're in competition with an inanimate object. You found in your experience it took a confident man to use them with you and nothing was sexier than confidence. The wand itself had actually been a gift from Marcus and the two of you had used it on many occasions. You can't see him now from the way you're lying on the bed as he's behind you on the other side of the room but you don't doubt that little show likely really worked him up.

One of Dave's hand leaves your breast to grip around his cock as he pulls out of you, ignoring your little whine at the loss. Still hard and heavy in his own hand he slaps his dick against your clit once, twice and a final third time and something between a high-pitched gasp and a giggle escapes you with how oversensitive you are.

“Holy shit. I can’t, I can’t” you whimper giddily, wriggling in his grasp and your hand instinctively goes to your mound, cupping it to shield it from Dave's delightful torture.

“Sorry Pike,” Dave frowns as he speaks to your husbands but his eyes don’t leave you. “Think this pussy’s closed for business for tonight but don’t worry, her mouth is like a goddamn 7-11. Never fucking closes, isn’t that right baby?” Dave huffs a little laugh at you before yanking you upright on the bed by your arms. You let out a surprised little shriek, laughter bubbling out of you again as he positions you onto your knees in front of him.

“You wanna suck my cock Princess? Hmmm?” He asks, mouth at your neck now that you’re eye level with each other again and leaving little tiny nips and kisses down the side of it until he reaches your collarbone and then starts his ascent back up the way he came.

His hands come up between your bodies and grab for both breasts, pushing them together and massaging roughly in his large hands.

“Or I could fuck your tits” he breathes into your ear. “These perfect fucking tits” he praises, releasing one just long enough to be able to pinch and pull at the taught nipple and you whimper, pulling your lip between your teeth and wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Tell me what you want, baby. I’m feeling generous, since you were such a good girl for me. Taking me so well and cumming all over my cock" he whispers filthily against your ear before sucking the lobe into his mouth and moaning around it.

You take a minute to respond. You know what you want to say, you’re just working yourself up to say it out loud and maybe Dave can sense it in you because he doesn’t push, just waits for your answer he knows will come soon enough, whatever it is. You wrap your arms a little tighter and he reciprocates, letting go of your chest to wrap his arms around your back.

You hug him to you for long moments, hand pushing through his hair as he just nuzzles into your neck and lets you hold him.

“What is it baby?” He asks, surprisingly softly.

You take a deep breath.

“I think… I wanna try it tonight” you whisper into his ear and you feel his shoulders tense. He knows exactly what you’re referring to and he pushes away from you slightly until you’re face to face.

“Are you sure?” He asks, needing you to be one hundred percent certain.

You nod your head. “I’m ready, I want to” you tell him and his mouth is instantly on yours, kissing you soundly until he finally releases you and cradles your face in his hands, making eye contact with you searching your gaze for any lingering doubt that may be there.

“Will you just um… be gentle with me? I know you’ve wanted to do this for a while but,”

“I will” he affirms, cutting you off mid-sentence. He knows what you’re thinking. The way he’s spoken about it before, about ruining you. It was just that, talk. He’d never actually hurt you and he knows you’ve never done this before so he’ll go as slow as you need him to your first time and you can build up to everything else another time, only if you want of course.

You start unbuttoning his shirt, popping them open one by one in a line down his chest and he allows it, knowing your nerves are a little on edge and you just need a moment before the inevitable happens. Besides that he knows you prefer him naked rather than clothed while he’s with you and while sometimes he keeps them on, probably as a power move as much as anything else, other times he seems just as adamant as you are to feel you skin to skin.

Once you’ve got all the buttons free you push it from his shoulders and he shrugs it off the rest of the way and tosses it to the floor. Your hands go back to his shoulders and then smooth down the hard plane of his chest, his softer stomach and then finally rest at the waistband of his pants that are surprisingly still mostly in place, just his button and fly open and the front of his boxers shoved down just enough so that his now semi-hard cock hangs free.

He’s being surprisingly patient with you, letting you do whatever you want with him and it’s rare that he does so you take your time with it. You lean forward and bring your mouth to his jaw, peppering kisses to it while your hands busy themselves shoving his pants and boxers down his thighs and he helps by shoving them the rest of the way down and kicking out of them. Your mouth trails down to the column of his throat where you kiss and lick and suck on every inch of him and your right hand goes to his cock and begins stroking him to full mast once again.

"Can I suck you a little bit first?" You ask sweetly, voice barely above a whisper. He knows it's to buy yourself some time as much as anything else but he nods his head and plants a kiss into your hair.

"Of course you can baby"

You get down on all fours and promptly take him into your mouth. He moans as your lips envelop him and your warm tongue strokes along his length but unlike usual he doesn't grab your hair or force himself down your throat, just lets you go at your own pace while he leans back and enjoys every second.

"That's good baby, suck that cock, just like that" he hums his praise for you, eyes closed and one hand gently stroking through your hair. You moan into him, always eager for any praise he gives you, and bring your hand up to wrap around whatever part of him doesn't fit into your mouth and time your strokes with the bobs of your head while you swallow him down. After a couple of minutes you're feeling your nerves settle again and your actions slow to take him long and deep into your throat a few times before you finally pull back and pepper little kisses to the tip instead, tongue darting out to give tiny kitten licks to his leaking slit.

"Feel better now?" Dave chuckles at you, hand wrapping gently around your chin to tilt your face up to look at him. "Just needed a taste of your Daddy's cock, hmm?"

"Yes" you're smiling widely up at him, gaze trained on his as your tongue sticks out for one final lick. "Tastes so good"

"I'm gonna get you ready now, ok?" He explains and you nod your head, feeling ready to get started. "Turn around" he instructs next and you obey, staying on hands and knees but turning to face the opposite direction. Your gaze falls on Marcus finally for pretty much the first time since you'd come up to the bedroom. He's down to just his t-shirt and boxer briefs and he's slowly palming and stroking himself over top of the black cotton.

"Hi baby" he smiles at you before he pushes himself up from the chair, takes the few small steps to the edge of the bed and then leans down, wrapping a hand around your chin and then kissing you soundly. You moan into his mouth, pleased to grant access to his tongue as it seeks out and entangles with yours. While Marcus distracts you with his kisses Dave starts massaging the globes of your ass and gently spreading your cheeks, repeating the action a few times and you're smiling into Marcus' lips as he continues to swallow down all your little moans.

"Oh!" you let out a little gasp and your body jerks as you feel the hot wet press of what can only be Dave's tongue suddenly against you, licking a long, slow stripe with the flat of his tongue.

"Oh fuck" you whimper in a little cry, lips breaking away from Marcus to pull your bottom lip between your teeth, your eyes closing without your permission when Dave groans his appreciation for your taste into your tight hole. His hands continue to massage as his tongue licks and prods at your entrance and a shudder racks your entire body

"Oh my god baby, fuck" Marcus breathes, planting his lips to your forehead and holding your face in his large hands. "Feels good huh?"

"Mmm hmm," you manage with a broken sob. "Oh my god, fuck, fuck, fuck." With all the territory you had ventured into with Dave so far, rimming had not been a part of it yet and it's not even something you knew you wanted or needed so desperately until this moment.

"God that feels so good, fuck!" you curse, letting Dave know exactly how good he's making you feel and you feel as much as you hear him chuckle a little laugh against you but he otherwise doesn't let up. His tongue alternates between stiffening and relaxing as he licks and kisses and nudges at the tight ring of muscle and your whole body trembles with the effort to keep yourself upright, your limbs turning to jelly as he slowly licks you open.

"Shit" Marcus groans, all your little whines and whimpers driving him mad with want. Despite what he told himself for tonight he can't help it any longer. His hand leaves your face and goes to tug his boxers down to his thigh as he wraps a hand around the base of his leaking cock and squeezes. "Baby, please" he whines, not needing to elaborate. You already know exactly what he needs so when he kneels on the bed right in front of you, you waste no time in lowering your head to take his throbbing length into your mouth.

"Oh yeah, fuck baby" Marcus breathes, head falling back as his hand gently plays in your hair. "Oh you feel so good" he praises, sounding wrecked already. In his defence the two of you have been abstaining for far too long and he's already had to witness you through multiple orgasms tonight, you're surprised he's held out as long as he has.

Dave's tongue finally leaves you as he pulls back slightly and you hear him let out a low whistle when he sees you with Marcus halfway down your throat at the other end of the bed. "Perfect goddamn slut you are" he growls before he nips playfully at the meat of your left cheek and you jump slightly, needing to pull off of Marcus for a second when you let out a little laugh.

"Who says you get to have all the fun?" You tease and that earns you another little nip, this time to the other cheek.

"Fun? Baby I haven't even begun to have my fun with this sweet little ass yet" He chuckles before landing a light swat with his right palm and then grabs a handful of your ass in a quick squeeze. "Now you get back to minding your own business up there and leave me to mine back here" he orders, giving you another quick little swat and you gasp out but then quickly obey, lips enveloping around Marcus' length again and moaning around him as you take him as deeply down your throat as you can and begin to suck.

"Fuck, slow baby, slow" Marcus hisses, hand gripping into your hair and easing you off of him. "I wanna last"

"Sorry" you giggle. "Just taste so good baby" you hum against him before peppering little kisses and licks to his tip. You're distracted, momentarily, when you feel oily slick fingers at your hole, Dave gently smearing the lubricant around and you swallow down a moan, your eyes closing again as you anticipate what's to come. His fingers leave you for a moment and you hear the lid of the bottle snap shut again and the distinct lewd sounds of Dave pumping his own cock as he coats himself with the lube.

"Relax now for me baby, just like we practiced" Dave says calmly, fingers coming to gently trace and prod at your entrance. You moan and then needing the distraction, your mouth wraps around Marcus again, this time taking him slowly. Only about half of his length fits comfortably in your mouth and you gently begin to bob your head up and down on him as Dave continues to tease your asshole.

"Ohhhh, that's it" Marcus breathes out, both hands in your hair now gently gathering it so he can hold it in one and get a better view of you swallowing him down. "Just like that, nice and slow" he praises.

"Nice and slow," Dave reiterates as he gently and slowly pushes his index finger inside of you all the way to his second knuckle and he smirks as he hears you moaning around Marcus. He pumps his digit in and out a few times and when it begins to slide in and out easily he adds his second finger as well, stilling them inside you a moment to get used to them until he feels your muscles relax again.

"That's my good girl, you can take it" he praises as he slowly starts to pump them into you. "Gonna feel so good around my cock baby" he groans.

"Oh my god," you whimper, needing to pull off of Marcus for a moment as Dave continues working you open, fingers alternating from pumping in and out of you to scissoring you open. You crane your neck around best you can to look back at him, mouth hanging open and eyes half lidded as they fall on Dave who looks deeply concentrated as he buries his fingers in your ass.

"Do you want your toy for a bit first?" He asks, referring to the plug he's bought you but you quickly shake your head.

"Just want you, please"

Surprisingly you don’t feel that nervous. You’d had enough “practice” now with Dave, as he liked to call it, the last few times you’d seen him and occasionally on your own when the mood struck you and so now you're feeling ready. You tried not to get in your head though, didn’t go into tonight assuming this would happen, though you wanted it to and had gotten yourself prepared earlier just in case. You just told yourself if you wanted to go for it, you could but if not, you didn’t have to. You didn’t mention it to Dave or even Marcus beforehand, in case you didn’t end up wanting to going through with it. You didn’t want any added pressure.

“Help her relax,” Dave directs Marcus calmly and Marcus nods, his free hand smoothing down your back in a gentle caress.

“I’ve got you baby, I'm right here” he whispers and you smile, turning back to him, your head tilting up so your gaze finds his above you.

“I know”

Dave gently removes his fingers from you and you feel it then, the press of his tip gently notching at your entrance.

“Ok?” He asks as he smooths his hands over your ass and begins a gentle massage.

“Yeah,” you nod.

“If you want to stop, just say the word. I promise I’ll stop”

“I know” you confirm, turning your head back to make eye contact with him.

“Ok” he nods and then wraps his right hand around his shaft while his left helps spread your cheeks open and he tentatively pushes forward. The tip of his dick kisses at your puckered hole and despite what you told yourself a million times you weren’t going to do, you feel your body tense at the threat of intrusion.

“Relax baby” Dave soothes, tip still resting just outside your entrance as his hand smooths down your hip. “You’ve gotta relax your muscles, I don’t want it to hurt you”

“I know, I’m sorry” you take a steadying breath and close your eyes turning back towards Marcus in an attempt to let all your anxiety out.

“Don’t apologize” Dave tells you softly, giving your hip a little squeeze. “You’re ok baby”

You look up to Marcus again, silent plea behind your eyes and he flashes you a warm smile, knowing what you need.

His hand leaves your back and he brings it to his mouth, sucking two fingers into it and then reaching underneath you until his digits find your aching clit and begin to gently circle the needy little bundle of nerves and a string of small little whimpers leave your lips.

“That’s better isn’t it. You like when Marcus plays with your little pussy, baby?” Dave begins again, slipping back into his role as his head notches at your entrance again and his hand goes back to smoothing over the rounded curve of your ass.

“Mmm hmm” your eyes close voluntarily as Marcus lulls you into a comforting bliss by his little barely-there touches below you. His free hand goes to stroke himself and your eyes open when he positions his leaking member back to your face. You surge forward, eager to have him back in your mouth and a long moan escapes you as your lips fully envelop him once more.

“Feels good, huh? Fingers in your needy little cunt, cock shoved deep in that pretty mouth” Dave comments and you can practically hear him grinning.

He’s distracting you, and to his credit, it’s working. Your eyes close again, your muscles relax and this time when Dave begins to push past the tight ring of muscle your body doesn’t fight it and he’s able to sink his head all the way inside.

“Fuuuckkkkk” Dave groans, looking down to see his tip disappear inside your ass.

“So good for me baby” he praises, leaning down to place a kiss on your back before straightening back up again so he can watch what he's doing. “You look so fucking good stretched around my cock, Jesus Christ”

“Oh my god” you whine, lips popping off of Marcus momentarily. There’s a stretch for sure and it’s borderline painful but he also feels really fucking good and you need more of it. You know you can take him further and that the more you take, the better it's going to feel and your body will adjust until it’s only pleasure you’re feeling.

“More, I can take more!” you plead.

“God Damn baby, didn’t I tell you one day you’d be begging me to fuck this tight little asshole” he grins as he pushes in further still until he’s about halfway and begins to give you shallow little thrusts.

“Oh yeah, take it, just like that. Fuck,” he curses, hands going to your waist to grip at your hips.

You begin to whimper and whine and rock your hips into Dave while Marcus continues to tease your clit and everything feels so good everywhere you don’t know where to look or who to cry out to so you just close your eyes instead and let your body absorb all the pleasure it’s receiving. Your mouth goes back to Marcus, sloppily sucking and sliding him down your throat as he helps by rutting his hips into you, knowing whatever ounce of concentration you did have was gone out the window the moment Dave sunk his cock inside you.

“Oh god you’re so fucking good, my beautiful girl” Dave groans, sliding in further still and your brain, as fucked out as it may be in this moment, doesn’t fail to notice the new little endearment that’s slipped from him.

Whore? Slut? Baby? Sure. But.. Beautiful girl? My beautiful girl? No, that was definitely new.

He keeps up his steady pace, rocking into you and sliding in just a little further each time until he’s fully sheathed inside and can start fucking you in earnest now that you’re freely moaning and whimpering beneath him he knows there’s no more discomfort, only pleasure. He arches his spine, one hand on his own lower back to control the push of his hips and the other holds your hip as he slowly rocks in and out of you, holding back his own release by no small amount of effort while he waits for you to finally peak once more. You’re close, he knows. Have been for several minutes as your whole body writhes below him, fingers gripping at the bed sheets, leg muscles trembling and back arching to push your ass further against him, he sees how close to the edge you are on every inch of your body.

“Feels so good. Fuck, fuck, fuck” you cry out, mouth tearing off of Marcus once more as you attempt to look behind you. You're so close to finishing but trying to hold out as long as possible. Having both Marcus and Dave pleasuring you at the same time might be your favorite thing in the whole world. “Oh my god, keep going, please!”

“Yeah you love being so fucking full of me, don’t you?” Dave huffs.

“Mmmhmm” you bite your lip. “I love it. Love taking your big cock in my ass”

“Jesus fuck!” You hear Marcus groan above you and he takes himself in hand and gives a few hasty tugs.

“Yeah you're not the only one who fucking loves it" Dave laughs at how wrecked the younger mans become. “Suck his cock baby, want him to cum so I can fuck you properly and he can watch how good this tight little asshole swallows my whole goddamn cock”

"Oh fuck," Marcus groans as you take him back into your eager mouth. Your hand wraps around the base and strokes in time with your mouth as you slide up and down his length taking as much as of him as you can, sucking and licking and swallowing him down with renewed enthusiasm.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum" Marcus whines, hand gently threading through your hair again as he continues to pump his hips. "Baby," he lets out as a final warning but you don't let off, just continue sucking him until he surges forward with a final groan and stills his hips as he lets go and you eagerly suck and lick every last drop from him, finally pulling off with a pop and a strangled breath leaving your lips from your effort.

"Oh my god," Marcus groans, sitting back on his heels. "Fucking incredible baby" he hums, hand leaving your hair to cup your cheek. Dave has stilled inside you, apparently needing a minute himself as his own impending orgasm looms threateningly.

"Turn over baby, get comfortable up at the top of the bed" Dave instructs next, slowly pulling out of you and you can feel every ridge and vein as he slowly drags his cock out of you. You whimper at the loss but obey, crawling up to the head of the bed and laying down on your back, head nestling into the pillows.

Finally Dave crawls up onto the bed himself, on his knees as he comes to settle between your legs, Marcus still sitting back on his heels next to him now.

"Still good?" Dave checks in, slowly smoothing his hands up and down your thighs.

"Mmm hmm," you nod your head eagerly, reaching out to place your hands on his forearms.

"Good" Dave gives you a little smile and then grabs at your calves, bringing your legs up to rest on his shoulders and then using his hand to line himself back up at your entrance. He pauses for a moment and reaches over to the earlier discarded bottle of lubricant and squeezes a few drops onto himself, coating his shaft liberally before tossing the bottle aside again. He pushes forward with one long forceful thrust, fully sheathing himself back into your used hole and a guttural moan escapes you when he fully bottoms out, his whole body leaned over you pressing your knees into your shoulders with how he has you practically folded in half.

"Shit" Dave growls and then presses further forward, lips capturing yours in a heated kiss and you both swallow each others moans. "Are you ready?" He asks, pulling back slightly and you nod your head. He pulls his hips back and then begins rocking into you. Slow, deep and hard thrusts in a steady rhythm that has your mouth falling open as you pant and gasp beneath him, hands gripping at his shoulders, elbows, the back of his head, whatever body part of his you can reach to grab hold of.

"God I love fucking you" he confesses in a breathy whisper, burying his face in your throat. "You're so goddamn perfect"

You whimper at his praise, hands burying in his hair as you hold him close and take every thrust he has to give you. His breath is coming out hard and fast against your throat as he loses himself fucking into you.

"Not... gonna last" he groans and brings a hand into the limited space between your bodies so he can rub your clit, desperate to get you over the edge before he falls over it himself.

"Oh, yes, right there" you whine as his deft fingers press deliciously into the perfect spot, pads of his fingers rotating in small precise circles with a steadying pressure and it's not long before you fall apart once more, a strangled sob leaving your throat.

"Good girl. Good fucking girl" He growls, removing his hand and giving a few more forceful thrusts before he pulls out of you, gets up on his knees and begins jerking his cock until ropes of his cum paint your stomach.

"Fuck," he groans, milking himself of every last drop, his free hand coming down to grip at your hip. You watch him above you as he falls apart, beautifully blissed out expression on his handsome face as his gaze locks onto yours, never faltering. "Oh my god you did so good" he praises, hand letting go of his spent dick and he wraps his arm around Marcus' shoulders next to him like he might fall over if he doesn't have something to hang onto. "Fuck she's amazing" Dave murmurs to Marcus, giving his far shoulder a squeeze.

“Let me get a towel” Marcus offers, pushing himself off the bed. He walks up to the head of the bed first and leans down to kiss your forehead before he heads off to the bathroom and you hear the water begin running.

"C'mere" you tell Dave, reaching your arms out to him and surprisingly he leans down into you so you can wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him down to rest on top of you. He pushes his hands underneath you, up your back to your shoulders between you and the mattress to hold you while keeping himself slightly propped up on his elbows now to keep from crushing you while he nuzzles into the side of your face.

“Are you okay Sweetheart?” He asks, a soft whisper against your ear, just wanting to make sure he wasn’t too rough with you.

You nod against him. “It was perfect, you were perfect” you praise him for once, pressing a kiss into his temple and then running a hand through his hair.

He hums into your skin and you continue to just hold him and stroke through his hair. He’s rightfully exhausted after what he just put you through and you’ve noticed he never really takes any time for himself afterwards. He always just puts his clothes back on and is out the door while his cum is still drying on whatever body part of yours he spilled it on so now while you’ve got him in your arms you want to keep him there for as long as he’ll allow it.

Neither of you have noticed either that the water had stopped running in the ensuite. Marcus stands at the doorway that joins the two rooms, leaning against it and just letting the two of you have your moment. He knows he’s particularly needy after he cums, demanding of your attention and needing to be wrapped up with you immediately after which tends to leave Dave to have no choice but push himself up out of the bed and leave the couple in love to have their private intimate moment. He supposes he’s never thought about it from either of your perspectives before or what you might want. He never pegged Dave for the warm and cuddly type but watching the two of you now he thinks maybe there’s a lot more to him than what’s just apparent on the surface.

At the end of the day Dave wasn’t just some whore you paid for a night to spice up your married life. He was your friend. A person with real feelings and emotions beyond just physical desires, presumably. Marcus had already begun to feel himself getting a little more attached to Dave with each time you all saw each other and it was obvious to him that you were growing attached as well. He doesn’t know what the feeling he has is when he’s around Dave. It’s not overtly sexual, though he won’t deny that it does come into play occasionally in the heat of the moment and he certainly doesn’t dislike it. It’s more of an affection, he supposes. He has affection for Dave. Cares for him, more than he knows simple ‘friends’ or work colleagues do for each other.

He watches a moment longer as the two of you lie in each other's embrace and joke and laugh in little whispers that Marcus’ ears can’t pick up and he can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips. Maybe he should be jealous, because that’s normally him you’re doing that with while Dave is halfway down the driveway, but he’s not jealous. Seeing the two people he cares so much for being happy, simply put, it makes him happy.

He pushes off the doorframe and finally wanders into the room, two warm washcloths in his hands.

“Here,” he offers, standing next to the bed and Dave pushes himself up slightly off of you as you both turn towards Marcus.

Dave accepts the warm towel from Marcus and rolls off of you onto his back on the other side and gets to task of cleaning himself off while Marcus takes a seat down at the edge of the bed next to your hip and gently starts brushing the washcloth over your stomach, between your legs and pushing further back to clean up any of the leftover oily slick from the lubricant.

“You did so good baby” Marcus is grinning as he continues to carefully wipe the cloth around you.

“She did do good. Very good,” Dave adds, looking over at you and placing a hand on the top of your thigh and giving a gentle squeeze. “You been practicing without me?” He asks, referring to the toy he bought you that you had used a couple of times with him now.

You give a shy little nod of your head at his question and his eyebrows raise as he turns his gaze to Marcus.

“Not with me” Marcus pipes up innocently, raising his hands in the air and a hint of laughter in his tone.

“I may have just… worn it around the house a bit the last couple days while Marcus was at work, you know just doing housework and stuff” you admit shyly, shrugging your shoulders and pulling your bottom lip between your teeth and Dave lets out a long groan, covering his face with his hands as he lets his head fall back into the pillows.

“Jesus you’re gonna get me fucking hard again”

“Mmm, maybe that was my plan all along” you begin teasingly, your own hand landing on his thigh and grabbing a handful of meaty flesh close enough to his groin that his hips jerk involuntarily. “Keep you here all night with us”

He laughs at that. “Babydoll you couldn’t handle me all night” he teases. “Wouldn’t be a hole of yours left that I didn’t ruin”

“Hey, don’t threaten me with a good time” you tease right back. “Besides, my gorgeous husband here knows just how to kiss me all better, don’t you baby?” You ask, eyes peering up at Marcus who’s still got an ear-to-ear smile on his face.

“Guilty as charged” Marcus sighs and then playfully sticks his tongue out at you.

Despite your little half-joking, half-serious comments Dave pushes himself up out of the bed and begins wandering the room and picking up all his scattered clothing and getting redressed and you ignore the way your heart drops a little bit in your chest that he has to go, though you know he needs to. That’s how this goes between the three of you.

You push yourself up into a seated position, knees up and hands wrapped around your legs as you rest your cheek on top of your knee watching Dave as he does up the final couple of buttons on his shirt until he’s looking no worse for the wear again.

“See you in two weeks then?” He asks casually, looking over to you and Marcus.

“Oh, actually it's her birthday in two weeks” Marcus mentions, a smile spreading at his lips. He always loved spoiling you on your birthday and you don’t doubt whatever surprise he has planned for you this year will be as good as every previous one.

“Oh, well, happy almost birthday then” Dave winks at you. “So in a month then” he shrugs and you have to actively stop your face from frowning.

A month?!

It made sense though. You knew now that Dave got his children every other weekend and with your busy weekday work lives the weekends made the most sense so that’s how the whole ‘every two weeks’ had started in the first place but with your birthday coming up you wouldn’t dream of asking Marcus to change any plans around to incorporate Dave into your weekend because knowing Marcus he would, even if did or didn’t want to. He’s likely had whatever he was going to do for your birthday planned for months, he always did, and you wouldn’t ask him to change that.

“Sounds good” Marcus confirms for you both and he stands up from the bed, leaving room so Dave can come over and say goodbye to you.

Dave crosses the room, brings a single finger down to your chin and lifts it up towards him then leans in and presses a quick kiss to your lips and pulls away with a little wink.

“Get your rest now baby, you deserve it”

“Night Dave” you offer him a small smile and try not to let the disappointment show on your face.

“‘Till next time then?” He says to Marcus as they face each other halfway between the bed and the bedroom door.

“‘Till next time” Marcus nods and lands a hand on Dave’s shoulder and gives a quick squeeze before he releases him. “Do you mind just hitting the lock button on the keypad on your way out?”

“Yeah I got it” Dave nods. “Goodnight” he offers one final time with a quick wave of his hand towards the both of you then turns on his heel and he’s out the door, heavy footfalls echoing down the stairs.

Marcus makes his way over to you and you reach for him, wrapping your hands around his neck and pulling him in for a kiss. "Will you take a bath with me, Husband?” You ask sweetly against his lips. Nearly all your muscles are sore after the vigorous sexcapades you just endured and you could use a good soak, not to mention a more thorough cleaning than just a washcloth between your legs from all the sweat and saliva and whatever remnants of any other fluids may be left behind on your body.

“Sounds like heaven, baby” he smiles warmly at you.

*****

The next morning you wake up to a text from Dave in your group chat checking in with you, asking if you're ok and how you're feeling this morning. You try to ignore the little flutter in your chest as you read over his words several more times than necessary, biting back the little smile that tugs at your lips while arousal begins to pool in your lower belly when memories from last night come flooding back to you. You decide you'll reply to him later when you can form a coherent thought. For now, you need to wake up your husband. Again.

This was a loooong chapter. Thanks for sticking with it to the end! By the way, let me know in a reply or a message if you're interested in more physical/sexual interaction between Dave and Marcus, or if you prefer it how it is now. I've been debating with this aspect of the story for a while but ultimately I'm writing it for you guys so... let me know what you want!

Taglist (if you want to be added, lmk!) @senaar-ika @suzdin @boliv-jenta @prolix-yuy @vabeachazn @seasonalobession @pedroshotwifey @nerdieforpedro @chronically-ghosted @macabremads @survivingandenduring @theywhowriteandknowthings @axshadows @iamasaddie @vickywallace @lincolndjarin @its-nebuleuse

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#dave york #marcus pike #pedro pascal character fanfiction #dave york smut #marcus pike x dave york x reader #dave york fanfiction #dave york x you #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike smut #marcus pike fanfic #pedro pascal cinematic universe #pedro pascal characters #dave york x reader

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