#what happens in vegas stays in vegas

[wardenparker]

What Happens in Vegas, part 1

Marcus Moreno x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

******

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

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

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

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

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

******

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

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

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

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

******

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

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

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

******

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

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

******

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

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

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

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

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

******

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My Masterlist!

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

[retropopcult]

Elvis Presley joking around at George Klein’s Wedding in Las Vegas, December 1970

#gun #is it the same one he shot the TV with? #funny #what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas #vintage #The King

[sitizelter]

#i wanted to cry while watching the race #and my dad was straight laughing at my face #while pointing to logan dropping down the grid #OH WELL #WHAT HAPPENS IN VEGAS STAYS IN VEGAS #THIS RACE DIDNT HAPPEN #LALALA #🙉🙉 #f1 #f1blr #formula 1 #logan sargeant #alex albon

[louisplumpyass]

messy one because him and i are gonna make out on stage tonight, AMEN!

#what happens in vegas stays in vegas #hell yeah #louis tomlinson #harry styles #it's time for u to be jealous #larry #louis and harry #larry stylinson #stylinson #harry and louis #larries #one direction #one direction fandom

[p-redux]

From Inbox

Sam was definitely wearing a cap and white t-shirt like that while at the John Legend concert in Las Vegas a few days ago. Soooo, if that's him, then he's got a tall brunette with him, who I dare say looks suspiciously like Monika Clarke. 🤔

Monika wears white a lot, if you look thru her IG. Heres one example. 👇

I got some DMs and comments mentioning fitness model Karina Elle. BUT, as I've said, she's not Sam's type AND I scrolled thru her IG to try to find a similar white outfit and literally she never posts any pics with clothes hahaha. It's always fitness stuff, bikinis, or lingerie. 👇

BTW, she looks like she could hurt Sam with those thighs. 😁

Anyhoo, thoughts?

#samheughan #monikaclarke #samonika #karinaelle #lasvegas #what happens in vegas stays in vegas #vegas #john legend

[kellisanth]

#what happens in vegas #what happens in Vegas stays in vegas

[f1library]

🎰🎲 2023 LAS VEGAS GRAND PRIX ANNOUNCEMENT 🎲🎰

777! JACKPOT!

A lucky card was pulled, and dice were rolled in your favor. The next race will take place in Las Vegas. You've surely heard of the saying, 'What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas'. It means that all of one's (or three's) dirty secrets will never be spoken of again. Since we're in Vegas, prepare yourself to find out about 7 of those spicy secrets.

You can find them by searching the tag ⬇️

#F1 Library: ANNOUNCEMENT #What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas

[pretendiamfamous]

😵‍💫

I was looking at the video of us taking shots, and NO WONDER I ALMOST DIED 😵😭

#personal #what happens in Vegas stays in vegas #lmao

[jupitercomet]

i feel like you would be so good at writing a drunken marriage type trope (like a strangers to lovers if you will). like one day they wake up with a foggy memory, and the only evidence of their eventful night are pictures of a 10 minute wedding they don’t remember, a marriage certificate they don’t remember signing, and rings they didn’t even know they bought. as they wait the 30 day period before they can divorce, they get to know one another and fall for each other!!

(i’m asking this with bradley in mind)

I could literally kiss you right now, I love this idea with everything in me!! I already made a banner for it lol

(peep my amazing photoshop skills because that car was originally white)

but hear me out: maybe Bradley scheduled a trip to Vegas with his friends to unwind and do bro stuff idk, but before they leave he gets an invitation in the mail that informs him his college sweetheart is getting married. now he's heartbroken in Vegas determined to get piss drunk and forget about her. maybe Jake, Javy, and Bob have a "hangover" subplot (lol I'm kidding but that would be funny). the next morning, he wakes up to a raging headache, a ring on his finger, and a stranger in his bed who's legally his wife...

#could this be the thing that gets me out of my writer's block?? #stay tuned!!!! #what if we called it “what happens in vegas”? #<- okay i'll shut up now but oh my god this is such a fun rom com-esque idea!

[wardenparker]

What Happens in Vegas, part 2

Marcus Moreno x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+   Word Count: 12.3k Warnings: Mentions of partner death and divorce, hurt/comfort, fertility issues/illness/pregnancy symptoms, if I ever write a story where Marcus doesn’t use his powers to undress his partner assume something is wrong with me, intimate piercings, oral sex (f and m receiving), soft!dom Marcus, fingering, a dash of praise kink, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, pregnant sex. Summary: It is time for honesty, as you and Marcus decide what your future will hold and how to mesh your lives together. Notes: We’ve had this one on the back burner for quite some time, and we’re so glad that it was finally time to break it out to share with you all! As always, thanks for reading and for being such lovely folx 🧡🧡 Part 1 is right Here!

Once in the safety of the elevator Marcus wraps his arms around you again, this time out of sheer protectiveness. All this insanity is centered around both of you, and he feels like maybe he can absorb some of the impact by keeping you bundled up. “That was...enlightening.” What else can he really say? “I guess there’s no real place to lay the blame.”

You snicker softly. “We can blame it on the alcohol.” You sigh, leaning some of your weight against Marcus. “We don’t– well, shit, I’m supposed to check out of my room today, so I guess we better check out this room they got us and have a talk.” You venture.

Marcus glances down at the room number written on the key and presses the corresponding number on the elevator's keypad. He doesn't let you out of his arms when you don't indicate that you want to step away, just leaning against the elevator wall with you leaning against him in turn. "You looked beautiful," he mumbles, not sure if he's even allowed to say that. "In your dress, I mean. I mean you always look beautiful, but the dress – it was good..." Ugh. He hates how he rambles when he gets nervous. Forcing himself to take a deep breath, he gathers his words. "Last night. You looked beautiful last night."

You smile, remember how he had stumbled over his words when you and he were together. “Thank you. You looked very handsome. Still do.” You add since he is wearing the same suit as last night. “Although I’m sure you want to change into something more comfortable.”

"I would kill for jeans and a t-shirt," he admits, cracking a grin. "And a coffee. Not the watered-down crap they had downstairs. Real espresso. What are the odds this room they got us has a good coffeemaker in it?"

“50/50.” You quip, walking down the hall until you reach the door. “Or maybe….” The door is larger than the average door, looking like you’ve arrived to a suite instead of an average room.  Marcus inserts the key and the door swings open. “Oh God, they’ve gotten us the honeymoon suite.” You breathe out when you step inside and glance around.

There's an absurd amount of rose petals strewn around, an ice bucket holding champagne, and a tray of chocolate covered strawberries right there when you walk in the door. There's a coffee table further into the room laden with all kinds of trinkets that the hotel must leave out for every couple that rents the room. A banner in Susan's handwriting reads Congratulations Mr and Mrs Moreno! and has been signed by all of the people who were in the chapel with you in the video. "Well I'm glad they're getting a kick out of this," Marcus grumbles, his ears burning.

“It’s sweet.” You acknowledge, sighing and wishing for a moment that this was real. “I–” you are nervous about bringing it up but it needs to be addressed. “What do you want to do, Marcus?” You ask softly. “Obviously I don’t think you would have done this sober, so, I’m not going to hold you to this– this– whatever this is.” You choke on the words, but keep your voice steady.

"You sound like you want to stay married." The observation has him hesitating, standing in the mass of flower petals on the rug and looking over at you like it's prom night and you've just come down the stairs in that light blue and silver dress you loved because the beads reminded you of snow. He can feel how soft his expression is despite how wide his eyes have blown. He had never for a minute considered the idea that this was something you might have actually wanted.

You give him a sad smile, not wanting to bring up your past. “What I want doesn’t matter.” You insist, looking over at the window so you don’t see the rejection in his eyes. “This wasn’t something that was planned out and I’ll understand.” You promise, thinking about how this could completely upset his life.

“It absolutely does matter.” Marcus insists. Pieces of last night are starting to fall into place, along with some of this morning. It’s only a few paces for him to be standing next to you, with one hand gently touching your arm. “I texted my daughter last night. I told her what was happening. So it’s not like this is something that we’re just going to sweep under the rug.” Taking the risk on stepping around you, he puts one crooked finger under your chin and makes you meet his eyes. “Whatever happens, we’re going to decide on it together, okay? Which means we have to be honest with each other.”

“Oh god? Your daughter? She must be freaking out.” Your eyes fill with panic and you squeeze them shut. “I’m so sorry Marcus. I shouldn’t have– this is–” You break off with a soft sob as you imagine how much his daughter must hate you. “Just–” You sigh. “Wanting to marry you was never a question for me. But you–I understand. I wasn’t it for you.”

“C’mere.” Marcus opens his arms, enveloping you in a full body bear hug. He trusts his instincts, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, and lets out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry.” He says after a pause. Once of his hands runs up and down your back in a steady rhythm. “I’m sorry I was bad at explaining things to you. But we were 19 and I didn’t know how to tell you how confused I was.” This is somehow easier without looking you in the eyes, but it seems dishonest so he pulls away to look down at you. “I had every intention of marrying you.” The truth, out loud, after so many years makes him feel like even more of an asshole. “I didn’t plan on meeting her. I didn’t know she was out there.  But...you’re the only two women I’ve ever loved. Just you two.” Come on, Marcus. Spit it out. “Then...I saw an article about you in a newspaper last year. And then you were on a talk show. I found your website. You were everywhere again and I realized how much I missed you. Not just...not just missed having a person. I missed you. So please don’t think I don’t care about you.”

It both broke your heart and helped mend it knowing that Marcus had been going to marry you. You knew that the heart wants what the heart wants as the old saying goes. Letting out a shuddering sigh, your body relaxes against him and your arms come around his waist hesitantly. Marcus was a good and honorable man, had been when he was a teenager. Of course the idea of falling in love with someone else had probably confused and terrified him. For so many years the idea had been set in stone that you were each other's person, that someone new had knocked him on his ass. From everything you had read about her, she was a wonderful woman who had loved Marcus and their daughter. A candle in the wind that had been blown out too early. “I– after your wife....passed, I–” You bite your lip and wonder if he's going to hate you for this, having wanted to do something, anything to help but wanting to respectfully keep your distance. "I was the one that had those meals delivered to your house." You confess softly. You knew from when your parents had passed that people brought more food than you could deal with right after they heard or to the reception following the funeral. Well meaning and heartfelt, but after that, their lives went back to normal while you tried to figure out exactly what your new normal was. Marcus Moreno's wife dying had been front page news nationwide, and you had hated that he was left to flounder with a seven year old. So you had quietly arranged to have meals delivered to their house for a while starting a few days after the funeral, asking them not to say who was the silent donor.

“Oh...” The word punches out of him and for a second he’s that heartbroken young version of himself that had discovered the meals and cried over them in his kitchen every time, wondering who had been so generous. Over the years, he had had many theories as to who had sent them, but it never would have occurred to him that it was you. “I always...” He pauses the thought, getting emotional all over again. “Those were a lifesaver. I had a hard time getting used to doing everything myself and... having one less thing on my plate made a huge difference.” His forehead drops to lean against yours, eyes momentarily closed so he doesn’t tear up. That wouldn’t help the situation at all. “Thank you.”

Your arms tighten around him, relieved that he hadn't taken your gesture the wrong way. "You're welcome." You whisper, not wanting to add anything more to that. It hadn't been for the recognition or for him to feel in some way in your debt, but you couldn't keep a secret like that from him when you both were trying to decide what to do about your current situation. "I never actually said it, but I'm so sorry for your loss, Marcus." You murmur quietly, the words muffled against the fabric of his suit, the same suit that he had married you in. You feel better, now that you've had this heart to heart. Even if Marcus didn't want to stay married to you, after all you were virtual strangers after twenty years apart, you felt like this wasn't something that you would regret. Old wounds and self doubts from that time had vanished, leaving your heart less scared than it had been and for that you would be grateful.

This time when Marcus sighs, it’s with a slight shiver and a mile’s worth of confusion. “What are we going to do?” He asks.  Honestly he has no idea. He doesn’t regret sleeping with you again, but he’s guilt ridden at the idea that you’ve been forced into something so life changing. He’ll straighten things out with Missy once you’ve managed to talk things through here. The idea that you might actually want this is seeping slowly into his bones and he has a voice in the back of his head that says he doesn’t deserve any kind of relationship with you since he broke your heart.

"The obvious choice would be to quietly get divorced." You pull away and turn, kicking off the heels you had worn as you walk over to the window. You didn't want to see the relief in Marcus's face when you are the one to propose it. He had skirted around it but was too much of a gentleman to be the one to voice it first. He had even said something about you keeping the ring before you ever knew it wasn't a joke. "I– surely this has happened plenty of times. Maybe they would even allow an annulment since we were obviously far more intoxicated than we should have been." You look out over the lights of the Vegas strip and blink back the tears that were threatening to spill down your cheeks. "I'm not going to force you to stay married to me, you don't deserve that."

“You keep saying that like being married to you would be the worst thing in the world.” He protests, and all of a sudden it hits him like a freight train. He’s been trying to get you to say you want him, and he hadn’t really realized it. He hasn’t jumped on the idea of a divorce at all since it’s been brought up because he’s missed you. Miracle Guy is always saying that you don’t say anything drunk that you don’t feel when you’re sober and Marcus hates that his annoying best friend might be completely right this time. “What if we tried it?” He asks quietly. Almost afraid of what he’s saying but at the same time resolved to see what you think of this idea. “I mean...I don’t know where you’re living right now or anything like that...there’s logistics and stuff. But...what if?”

Your eyes are wide when you whirl around to face him, shock written on your face. "Wha— are you kidding?" You ask, praying that he isn't but then again, this is Marcus. He wouldn't joke around about something as serious as this. "Would you want that?" You ask quietly. "Not so there isn't a press release or to save face, but do you want to stay married? To me?" You bite your lip, feeling like you are naked in front of the entire world rather than trying to admit how you feel to one man, but this is the man that you have loved for your entire life. "I–I moved on, dated plenty, fell in love, got married." You need him to know that this hasn't just been about him, that you've had a life outside of him and the day he broke your heart. "Got divorced, but I've always kept you in my heart. I never hated you or stopped loving you."

“We’ve both had our own lives.” He agrees, taking one careful step toward you. He doesn’t want to spook you, but he also doesn’t want to shout this conversation between you across the living room of your suite. “Maybe this is the universe telling us that now we should be having a life together.” He believed in fate wholeheartedly, believing that fate brought his late wife into his path and Missy into their lives when they had struggled so hard to get pregnant. Fate’s hand was here, too. “You were my first love, and you’ve always had a place in my heart. Maybe...” Marcus takes one more careful step. “We said we loved each other on that video. Which means we must have talked about it. And...marriage is about communication and honesty as well as love.”

You watch his eyes, solemn and serious behind his glasses as he watches you. Gauging your reaction to his thoughts. Nodding, you yield, taking your own measured step towards him. "I wish I could remember what we said. I'm sure it would help if I could just know what we said to each other." You sigh, confessing your one hang up to all of this. "I just– I don't want to compete with her memory, Marcus." You whisper, struggling to keep your eyes on his. "I can't do that. I don't want to do that. It's not fair to me, or to you." He had reminded you it was about communication and honesty and you were laying your cards on the table.

Marcus feels himself nod, knowing you are completely right. But at the same time, there was a flip side to that coin. “And I don’t want to be competing with the memories you have of me.” It felt odd to say out loud. That your memories of him were different than the man he is now, even if he was still so similar to who he had been there in many ways. “You’re...you’re so amazing. You always have been and from what I know about you now, you’re doing great work and really succeeding. You’re not second to anyone. Not to me.” With one more step forward, he reaches out to take your hand. This is becoming so real with every passing second and his heart is pounding in his ears. “If we do this, it would be about who we are now. Memories are memories and that’s great, but I don’t want to get caught up in the fact that things turned out differently than we expected.”

You nod, understanding his point completely. "Still so smart." You murmur, inching closer and reaching up with your free hand to cup his cheek. You sigh when his eyes flutter at the contact and your pinkie sweeps over the stubble on his jaw. "I want to do this...if you do." You admit, your gaze focusing on his lips again and you want to kiss him. "I want to stay married to you and make this work. I want to be with you."

For Marcus, the scariest part of this wasn’t waking up this morning beside you, or how mad you had been in the beginning, or how upset with all of your old friends he is. It’s admitting to himself that he would be sad if you walked away from him. That the shock of everything was actually surpassed by how happy it is making him. How his tipsy texts to Missy were filled with so much hope, and despite her understandable confusion, she was doing what she could to be supportive. He would have to call her later and explain everything, but right now you’re right in front of him, telling him you care – and this time his head is spinning without the hangover. “You’re okay with being a stepmom?” He hears himself ask, cursing himself for ruining the moment but knowing this was the nail in the coffin. If you aren’t okay with his daughter, then this has no chance of working.

Your brow furrows and you know he sees the sorrow in your eyes. You hope he doesn't mistake it for not wanting to be a stepmom. "I– my ex and I tried for years to have kids." You admit quietly, remembering the heartbreak when you got your period every month. "It was the reason that we got divorced, he – he wanted kids and I couldn't give them to him." Your breath catches. "I don't – I've always wanted kids but I won't try to take over her mother’s place. Stepmom would be fine." You bite your lip and try to keep it from trembling. "I can't give you another baby though, are you– can you live with that?"

“I’m so sorry,” is the first thing he says, tugging you into his arms. He remembers how hard it was to try and try and feel like the world was against them for almost two years. “That must have been hell.” When he leans back to press a kiss to your forehead, he’s smiling a reassuring smile. “I don’t need anything else.” He tells you softly. “I just want you.”

Your doubts fall away, everything that had kept you from really believing that this was happening was gone. Your fingers curl into the hair at the base of his neck. "Marcus, " you look up at him and smile. "Kiss me. Please." You beg, wanting to remember this kiss that wasn't for show, wasn't for anyone else but the two of you.

“With pleasure,” his smile turns into a giddy grin. “Mrs. Moreno.” There’s no hesitation in the kiss - one hand reeling you in to him by your waist and the other tipping your chin back ever so slightly so he can taste you as soon as you open up to him.

You can't help but moan, your mouth opening and a whimper slipping out when his tongue flutters against yours. Your hands slide up to his back, fingers digging into the fabric while you try to get as close to him as you possibly can. Your entire body ignites, and you feel that pull of need.

Marcus echoes your moan, pulling you up in his arms until the only way to get physically closer is to be inside you - which is bringing his body back to life in all sorts of delicious ways. He’s fairly certain there’s a sofa behind him and takes a chance that he’s right - walking you back two steps until he tips backward with just enough warning to pick you up off your feet so you land on his lap. No one could ever say he doesn’t know how to use his strength to his advantage.

Your dress rides up your thighs, letting you straddle him easier. Making you shudder when his hands are warm on your bare skin. Your arms wind around his neck and you lift up to your knees so you can press closer, holding the back of his head while you give in to the kiss and groaning when his hands squeeze your flesh. "Marcus," you mumble against his lips, your tongue licking into his mouth and your cunt throbbing with need. "I want– fuck, I need you." You pull your mouth away from his and start kissing along his jaw. One hand coming back around him and sliding down his chest to reach between the two of you and your fingers find his belt. "I want to remember this."

Tangling one of his hands in yours to stop your eager pulling at his belt, Marcus wraps his lips around your pulse, sucking on your skin and nipping at it, tongue soothing away the sting. "Let me take care of you," he insists. It's not that he doesn't want to be inside you right fucking now, it's that he's not going to have sex with his wife for the first time (that he remembers) on a sofa. His free hand lifts from its grip on your hip and flexes, making him grin cheekily when you gasp at the feeling of your dress being unzipped without his hands on you. Katanas weren't the only metal he ever used his powers on. Reveling in your surprise, Marcus takes an extra second of concentration to undo the metal clasp of your bra as well. His eyes tip up to yours, blown black with anticipation and lust.

"That's new." You giggle, even more turned on by that move. Marcus hadn't tried his powers on you when you were younger. His mother cautioned him to not abuse his powers and his sometimes lack of control over them had made him wary of trying manipulate your clothing. He grins and winks at you, making you whimper at the self assuredness he has come to possess. "Jesus." You pant, wondering if he remembers that one little detail about you that was so different from when you were together the first time. He would find out soon enough you supposed, and hoped that he wasn't too shocked by it. You had definitely gone through a wild phase in college, but you didn't regret it.

He’d have time to be pleased with himself later, right now he cared much more about the way you were subtly grinding down in his lap, making him harder with every passing second. “Shit, sweetheart.” He huffs, bucking up against you before he can stop himself. His hands skim under the bunched hen of your dress, nudging the material. His powers nudge at him a little and he dismisses it as a reminder of your dress’s zipper, but the feeling is coming from somewhere different. Marcus quirks one eyebrow at you, intrigued by your expression of amusement, and pulls your dress over your head - tossing it and your bra several feet away. “Jesus, hermosa!” He groans, his hands immediately coming up to cup your breasts, mesmerized by the piercings he definitely did not remember being there before. How he didn’t remember them last night, he doesn’t know. “How do you keep getting hotter?”

You smirk, loving the awe that is in his eyes as he stares at the hoops in your nipples. “You like?” You tease, feeling how much he likes them from the way that his hips bucked up again when you arched into his touch, pushing your tits into his hands harder. “I got them in college– after we –” You weren’t going to keep feeling embarrassed about your past, or trying to deny it. “Took my clit piercing out because my ex hated it, but I couldn’t get rid of these.” You admit, remembering how he had hated them, refused to touch your tits when you had them in. But it was for you, not him, and you had stubbornly refused to give in to his wants.

Marcus almost pouts over the fact that he was losing out on playing with a clit piercing, but when he trains his eyes on your tits and watches you writhe with pleasure as he twists the little hoops with his powers, he’s so hard it doesn’t matter anymore. “Need to taste you,” he mumbles into your skin, tongue laving over your nipples where he’s been playing with them. Marcus lifts you off his lap, turning a little to settle you down in the pile of throw pillows on the sofa. “Will you let me taste you, hermosa?”

You moan, his fingers curling under your panties and you nod, lifting your hips up so that he can drag them down your thighs. You spread your legs wider, modesty and being shy throw out the window. You bite your lip and squirm, your own hands on your breasts while Marcus rocks back, hastily shrugging out of his suit jacket and tossing it down on the floor with no thought. “Fuck you look pretty like that.” He groans, flicking the buttons of his shirt open and taking off his glasses to toss on the floor, hopefully to not get crushed later on. You whine, needing him to hurry up and you let go of one of your breasts to slide it down to your mound, circling your clit with your fingers while you watch him strip.

“Nuh-uh,” Marcus grabs your hand, pulling your fingers away from your clit and licks them clean with a stern look on his face. “Only I get to touch and taste you right now.” He tells you and revels in your moan. Positioning your ankles on the edge of the couch, he takes in your spread-open pussy with a lascivious smirk. “So fucking pretty,” he praises before leaning down and sucking your clit into his mouth.

Your hips jerk up and a squeal breaks free at the insistent feel of his mouth. Control looks so fucking sexy on Marcus. The fumbling boy that was asking if what he was doing was okay was gone, replaced by a man who was confident in his ability to please. You squeeze your breast and moan when his tongue flicks over the sensitive bundle of nerves, closing your eyes. Only for them to spring back open in shock when he pulls his mouth away and lightly slaps your folds. "Eyes on me, baby." His lust-rough voice makes you shiver and you meet his satisfied gaze, making him quirk his eyebrows, pleased at your obedience before he puts his mouth back on you.

Part of Marcus had been slightly concerned that the more dominant style of pleasure he’d adopted since knowing you wouldn’t be something you enjoyed, but from the way you are panting and mewling above him as he spears his tongue as deep into you as he can manage, he knows now that it’s more than welcome. He hums his approval into your folds, his nose intentionally bumping against your clit with every stroke of his tongue. He could look up at you like this forever – shivering and shuddering but keeping your eyes on him like he ordered. “Don’t even think about cumming until I tell you.” He punctuates the sentence by driving two fingers deep inside you, sliding along your tight folds gripping him so well that he moans along with you.

You whimper and try to grind your hips down on him, but he throws his free arm around your hips and jerks them up high, practically holding your ass up while he utterly destroys you with his mouth. Pleas and praises fall from your lips as you try to stave off your impending orgasm. "Oh God, oh fuck Marcus." You whine, watching him pump his fingers into your fluttering cunt and his nose is pressed against the neatly trimmed hair above your clit. "So good, so fucking good." Your walls clench around him and you squeal again when he curls his fingers up. "Oh please, God – I'm so close." You ramble, scratching at the couch and trying to keep from cumming so hard that your thighs are starting to shake. "Please baby, please let me cum."

It’s the first of what he intends to be many orgasms today, so he eases a third finger into you and watches your face contort for a second before nibbling on your bundle of nerves. “Cum for me baby. Wanna drown in this taste. In you.”

His permission given, you fly off the cliff and wail his name while your walls clamp down on his fingers. Flooding them with your juices and your entire body humming in pleasure while he keeps sucking on you. Making stars burst behind your eyes, you can't help but squeeze them shut and tilt your head back against the cushions while you thrash around in pleasure and make so much noise you are sure that there will be a noise complaint coming soon.

There are few things, in Marcus Moreno’s opinion, better than having a woman cum in his mouth. Something made even better by the fact that he knows he’ll have your scent lingering in his mustache for the rest of the day. He curls his fingers against that perfect spongy spot inside you and hums in delight as your second orgasm follows the first without warning. Hearing you scream his name might be the most musical sound he’s heard in a very long time. “Listen to you,” his voice is like honey. “Screaming my name for everybody to hear. Now they know you belong to me.”

He takes pity, taking his mouth off of you and slipping his fingers out to let you calm down while he savors the flood of your juices on his fingers, alternately kissing the insides of your thighs while he coos praises from where he kneels on the floor.

Your cunt throbs and your walls flutter around nothing now that he's pulled his fingers from you, the low sigh that you let out sounding as boneless as you feel. Your entire body relaxes with your eyes turning heavy and slipping closed from how good you feel. "Oh God." You whisper, reaching down and carding your fingers through his hair and lifting your head so you can look down at him. "I want– no, I need you inside me." You beg, looking over at the bed that was so beautifully set with rose petals. "Please, I want my husband to make love to me."

Marcus’s lips curl into a smile, much gentler than he had been a second ago and he stands up, cock red and weeping from neglect, hard as diamonds as it bobs a few inches from your face. He sees the hungry look in your eyes and shakes his head slightly – instead leaning down to scoop you up in his arms and carry you over to the bed. Marcus has absolutely no desire to pull back the covers, laying you down on top of the rose petals like a beautiful gift. He sighs, loving the sight of you like that, devastated and shaken from intense orgasms but beaming at him at the same time. “I love you,” he tells you, crawling up on the bed between your legs as they open for him. “I’m glad our classmates meddled. And I’m so glad I get to spend the rest of my life with you, sweetheart.”

You reach for him, your arms wrapping around his back, so much broader than the last time you remember him being over you like this. His body no longer lean and wiry with youth, but broad and filled out deliciously with age. “I love you.” You whisper, your heart beating like a drum in your chest from happiness. “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.” You assure him, leaning up to kiss him and drag him back down over you. Wanting the weight of him on top of you. “Want you to fuck me… husband.”

“So impatient when I’m trying to be romantic,” the chuckle comes from deep inside him, the same rough, lusty place that had him taking his cock in his cum slick hand, and pumping a few times before sliding the head through your folds. “So wet for me,” he groans, happy to know he was the one who had made you that way. “You ready for me, good girl?”

"Yes." You whine out, eager to feel him stretch you out again. You know you had him last night, but you didn't remember more than a few flashes of memories and the ache you had felt when you woke up. You cup his cheek and watch his face when he starts to slowly push inside you. Your own mouth falling open with a needy moan filling the air while your walls give to accommodate him, making your hips lift slightly to make sure that every inch of him is inside you when his hips are flush against your own.

“ Fuck,” he bites out the curse as he bottoms out inside you, knowing he looks as absolutely wrecked as he feels just from being inside you again. “So tight, hermosa. So tight around my cock.” The authoritative voice from a few minutes ago rumbles from his core as he lifts one of your legs up onto his shoulder, watching your mouth drop open even wider. He draws back again until only his tip is still inside you, snapping his hips back against yours with a pleased grunt, and then again to hear you moan. “That’s it, baby.” He leans down to kiss you, greedily drinking down every sound you make.

He's so fucking deep inside you. Making you feel like he's pushing up into your stomach and rearranging your insides with every hard thrust. You love it, love how he's not being gentle even though you know he's holding back. Now fully aware of why you ached for hours after you woke up,  you wanted to feel that way again. Loving how much he had changed over the years and it makes you crave to find out every way that he differed from the boy you knew. You gasp out on his next thrust. "Oh god!" You cry out when he changes the angle of his hips and hits directly against your g-spot.

Marcus focuses on that spot, loving the way you call out and wanting you to cum one more time for him before he lets his restraint snap. He knows he’s different in bed than he had been when you knew him - no longer worried about being enough or whether or not he was reading your body correctly. He knew he was stronger now, more confident, and a better lover; and he was careful to keep himself in check so he wouldn’t go too hard this time. He nips and sucks at every bit of skin he can reach as the sound of skin smacking against skin fills the room. Unable to resist, Marcus focuses just enough of his powers on those little hoops through your perfect nipples to make them hum and vibrate, shoving you closer to the edge.

“M-Mar-cus!” You cry out, the very air being pushed from your lungs every time he drives deep inside you. Your fingernails dig into his skin, leaving crescent shaped marks in his flesh and you clench down on him when he moans. “Yes, yes, yes!” You scream out when your entire world shatters and the subatomic explosion in your core radiates white hot and all-consuming as you come apart for him.

He grunts, held so tight by the way that you’re clamping down on him that he can barely move and it’s absolutely delicious. Marcus makes one more thrust before he’s groaning your name and painting your still-spasming walls with his seed. He drops his head against your shoulder, panting and wonderfully spent.

Your leg slides down off his shoulder and you let it wrap around his hip while your hand glides up and down his back. The touch is soothing - his skin under your fingers and as you relearn the planes of his back. “I love you.” You whisper, holding him close and enjoying the weight of him on top of you.

“I love you too,” he breathes a kiss on your lips, running one hand up and down your side. The contours of your body have changed as you got older and he is determined to memorize your body as soon as possible. “Don’t want to crush you,” he murmurs into your kiss, shifting his body off of you but tugging you close to his side as he lays down.

You sigh and roll over with him. Resting your head on his shoulder and stroke his chest gently. “So, I have to admit, I never expected this to happen at the reunion.” You giggle, unable to believe that this is real.

“I don’t think anyone did.” He agrees, but laughs. “Well, maybe Susan.” He plants a kiss on the top of your head before lifting himself off the mattress and padding off to the bathroom for a damp wash cloth to clean you up.  When he re-emerges he has the bottle of champagne in hand as well.

You giggle again and raise your eyebrow at him. “Ready to drink already?” You ask playfully, making him snort in amusement. “At some point we are going to have to pack up our old rooms to check out.” You remind him.

“And I have to call Missy.” Marcus nods his head, disappointed to have to come back to reality. “She’s fantastic,” he assures you, squeezing your hand and kissing your palm. “You’re going to love her. And she’ll love you. But drunk texts from your dad are no way to find out he’s in a relationship.”

“No it’s not.” You agree, standing up with a groan and taking the wash cloth so you can quickly clean up. “How about I get dressed and go pack up my room so you can have some privacy to talk to your daughter?” You ask, knowing that he would probably want to be alone for that conversation.

“Hurry back?” He’s pouting and he doesn’t care.

You smirk and lean in to kiss him once more. “I will. You will need to pack up your room too.” You remind him before you pull away to walk over to where your clothes had been flung.

“I’ll do it after I talk to Missy,” he promises. It takes a minute or two for him to track down his pants and find the room key, holding the spare hostage until you pay the ransom of three more kisses. “And then we’re gonna be naked for the rest of the day.”

You hum, smiling against his lips as you pluck the card from his fingers. “So I guess that means you don’t want to see the lingerie I brought just in case I got lucky?” You murmur.

“Minx.” He teases, but that fire is back in his eyes. “Put it on before I get back.”

You smirk and walk to the door. "Sure thing baby." You tease, winking at him before you open the door and disappear down the hallway.

******

In the weeks since returning from his reunion, Marcus had done his fair share of groveling. Missy had been at her abuela's while he was away and both of them were (understandably) fiercely upset with him for the way things happened. It was two full weeks before Missy stopped being mad at him, and only then had his mother agreed to be the one to host everyone for dinner. She had loved you when you and Marcus were teens and was glad to see that you were the one who was making him happy again. The night you'd all had dinner together she made ropa vieja and the biggest pot of rice and beans that Marcus had seen in years, and he knew exactly how glad she was to see you - your favourite foods laid out on the table for everyone to enjoy.

You'd agreed that you would keep your apartment until the end of the month, giving Missy time to adjust to you being around the house. She had warmed up to you quickly, finding you much more entertaining company than her dad for any number of things. She had even helped you unpack when you moved into the house with them after leaving your apartment.

These days Missy could be spotted teaching you her favourite cookie recipe and raiding your jewelry box some days before school. It warmed Marcus's heart to see the two of you bonding, relieving him in equal measure.

******

"You know, I'm so glad dad doesn't cook breakfast anymore." Missy rolls her eyes and you snicker conspiratorially. You love this little girl like she is your own. She's an easy girl to love and you are so thankful that it worked out that she doesn't hold your intrusion in her life against you.

“You aren't telling me that your dad is a bad cook, are you?" You ask, arching your eyebrow at him while you whisk the eggs for the omelets.

She rolls her eyes again. "Dad burned everything! We once ate mac and cheese for breakfast because that was all he could make without messing up."

"I do not burn everything!" Marcus has a very serious look on his face. "I would never, ever burn bacon."

You laugh and lean back, tilting your head so that Marcus can kiss you. "Mmmm." You smile against his lips and pull away so he can move past you. "Okay maybe not bacon but cracking eggs down the sink and throwing the shells in a bowl, Marcus?" You giggle, watching him flush and rub the back of his neck in embarrassment.

"That was one time!" he pouts, embarrassed. Missy was never going to let him live that down. "And that was a very stressful day, thank you very much." He shuffles over to the coffee pot when it dings, grateful to have a distraction. The smell is divine, those beans you love had turned his morning cup into something divine from the perfunctory wake-up it had been before. "Big mug or little, babe?" He asks you, pulling spoons out of the drawer and his favourite mug out of the cupboard.

"Little." You answer, your stomach feeling queasy. "I'm still not feeling one hundred percent." You admit, hating that you had this stomach bug that you couldn't seem to get over. You had been sick over the weekend and had put a damper on your plans and you were still feeling guilty over it.

Marcus still hadn't said anything about you not feeling well. He had tucked you in and gotten you plain things to eat and drink, letting you rest until you felt better. He dared to hope that he knew what was wrong - recognizing the little signs from years ago. He got out a little mug, fixed your coffee for you and slipped the mug down the counter, watching you carefully. "If you're still not feeling well maybe you should go to the doctor?" He suggests gently. A doctor would be able to confirm or squash his idea immediately, but he wouldn't push you.

You shake your head. "No, I don't need to go to the doctor." You’re still stubborn about seeing doctors after all those appointments that your ex had forced you to go to. It made you anxious for any type of clinical setting. You give Marcus a soft smile, and pick your cup up. "Thank you, sweetheart." You thank him as you lift the cup to your lips and take a sip. As soon as the hot beverage hits your lips your gag. Your stomach rolling and you drop the mug, shattering on the edge of the counter and you cover your mouth, running for the half bathroom that was down the hallway.

Marcus shifts gears quickly, grabbing a rag to scoop up the broken stoneware and toss the whole bundle in the trash. "Be right back," he tells Missy, hurrying down the hall after you.

He finds you bent over the toilet for the fourth time in four days and kneels down next to you to make sure there's no hair in your face or clothing soiled. "Babe?" His eyes betray how worried he is, but he tries not to show it on his face. "Was it the coffee?"

"Oh God." You moan, hanging your head and mouth waters again at just the mention of the coffee. "Did the creamer go bad?" You ask, cursing the fact that your stomach was so queasy and you couldn't shake this bug. You retch again, but luckily you hadn't eaten anything else so there wasn't anything more to come up.

"I brought it home yesterday." He runs his hand up and down your back, soothing and supportive. "I didn't want anything old in the house, just in case."

You pant, nodding while you reach up weakly and pull the handle for the toilet so the coffee and bile from your stomach start to flush down, resting your head and on your arm for a second before you look up at your husband. "I'm so sorry. I know this is annoying to deal with." You whisper, hating that he is having to take care of you.

"It's not." Marcus promises. Stepping away for just a second, he wets a washcloth with warm water and offers it to you to clean up. He's learned over the past few days that keeping a washcloth and your toothbrush nearby was a very good idea. "Don't apologize, love. But...I do think it might be more than a bug." He hates how much he hopes he's right. You had talked about it. It wasn't something in your plans. You had told him it was impossible. But he couldn't help but hope you might actually be pregnant.

You frown and immediately jump to the worst possible conclusion. "Cancer?" You whisper, your eyes widen, and you pray God wouldn't be so cruel as to do this to Marcus.

"No, baby." Marcus has to stop himself from laughing at how you went straight to the other side of the illness spectrum. He presses a kiss to your hair, breathing out slowly. "I think you might be pregnant."

You rear back, your frown fierce and you step out of his arms. "Marcus, I– we talked about this." You tell him flatly, trying not to raise your voice. Anger and sorrow swirling inside you. "I can't have kids, so I can't be pregnant." Your jaw sets and you look at him warily. "I knew– God, I knew that this would happen." You mumble.

Marcus sets himself down on the tile next to you, taking your hand and lacing your fingers together. "I don't have my hopes up." A blatant lie. He absolutely does have his hopes up. "And I don't think it's likely," at least that was true. "But...I've been through this before, with Missy. I remember what it looks like. And I know not all pregnancies look the same, but humour me." His smile is soft, trying to be encouraging and as supportive as possible. "I'll go down to the store and grab a test. When it comes up negative like you think it will, we'll drop it and I'll give you foot rubs all night to apologize for even thinking it. Is that a deal?”

You want to say no. Want to scream that you've taken enough tests for a lifetime and cried enough tears when every single one of them came back negative. The doctors had never been able to tell you why you couldn't get pregnant, just that it wasn't happening. Of course it had caused some horrible arguments that had eventually led to your divorce. However, Marcus isn't your ex, and you see nothing but worry in his eyes. So you find yourself nodding, biting your lip as you agree. "Okay." You tell him quietly, feeling him squeeze your hand gently.

"Okay." He sighs with relief that you're willing to take the test, knowing that it's a hard thing for you to agree to. He helps you up off the floor, staying with you while you brush your teeth, and then tucks you into the couch with the remote in your hand before he heads out. Missy has already put the eggs and veggies from the forgotten omelets back in the fridge and gotten herself a bowl of cereal. "I'll be right back," he tells both of you, grabbing his jacket and wallet from the sideboard by the front door. "Don't burn the house down while I'm gone."

"Bye dad!" Missy calls out sarcastically. She finishes her cereal and comes out to the living room with you. Obviously worried from the way that she keeps looking over at you. Picking at the edge of the armchair she was sitting in; you can see that she's wanting to ask you what's wrong. "I'm okay sweetie. You can get ready for school. The bus should be here soon." You remind her, glancing at the clock on the DVR.

“You sure?” Missy has come around to you faster than she expected to, learning to like having you as part of her day and fully appreciating that home cooked meals are actually pretty good now. She’s been up front about the fact that she’s not ready to call you mom, and you’ve promised her she never has to if she’s not comfortable with it. She calls you by your name, and just the fact that you’re not trying to force yourself on her has made all the difference in the world. What happened was kinda screwed up, but it’s turning out okay.

"I'm sure." You assure her, giving her a small smile. Missy grins, reassured, and hops up. "Okay! I have to get ready for the audition today."

You sit up a little straighter and call up the stairs as she thunders up them. "I want to hear all about it when you get home!" You call out. "And we'll make cookies!"

******

When Marcus gets back from the store he has a little bag with him – your favorite M&Ms and a bottle of that raspberry tea you love sitting alongside the box of pregnancy tests. “Missy got to the bus stop on time?” He asks, having just missed her.

"Yes, she did." You smile, remembering her exuberant goodbye as she raced out the door. "She was excited for her audition, and I promised we would make cookies when she gets home." You know you are probably spoiling her by baking nearly every day after school, but she loves it and it’s good bonding time for the two of you. Plus, the Heroics love when Marcus brings in the leftovers every morning. You catch sight of the bag and look up at him nervously. "Marcus..."

“I know.” He bobs his head apologetically. He knows this is hard for you. You’ve talked it out before while you explained things that had caused you anxiety with your ex. Marcus had been determined never to touch a single one of those things, but he could feel it in his bones that he was right. “I...um...when I was at the store. I realized...you haven’t had your period since we got married. So even if this comes up negative and I give you apology foot rubs until the end of time, I think we should see a doctor anyway. In case something is wrong.” He pulls out the M&Ms and holds them out flat in his palms to you like a sacrifice. “Please don’t be mad at me. I just want to take care of you.”

You give him an amused smile, taking the M&Ms gratefully. "I know you do." You admit, knowing he is nothing like your ex. He had never made you think he was upset by you not being able to have kids, so you had realized your fear was purely out of instinct. "I'm not upset at you, I promise." You sigh and throw the blanket off your legs, getting up and cupping his cheek. "I just don't want you to be disappointed."

Marcus smiles, a little lopsided, and pulls you up into his arms. “How could I ever be disappointed when I have you for my wife?”

You laugh, comforted by the fact that your husband always seems to know what to say to put you at ease. "I guess it's a good thing that I have to pee." You joke, holding out your hand for the box. "Are you going to want to be in the bathroom while I do this?" You ask, tilting your head at him curiously.

“If that’s okay with you.” He presses a kiss to your cheek.

You nod. "Okay, sweetheart. How about we go upstairs to our bathroom, rather than crowding into the hall bath again."

“Anywhere you’re more comfortable.” With your hand in his, Marcus takes the stairs one by one right beside you. “Tea to make you pee?” He giggles at his own stupid rhyme, holding out the bottle of tea. God, he just wants you to be okay. No matter what the outcome was.

You giggle even as you roll your eyes, taking the bottle of tea. “You are such a dork.” You tease him, making him scrunch his nose up and lean in to kiss you when you reach the top of the stairs.

“But I’m your dork.” He argues, making you smile.

“Yes you are my dork.” You kiss him again and sigh. “Let’s get this over with. My bladder is starting to scream at me.”

You’re past the awkward stage of being in the bathroom together, and Marcus perches himself on the counter beside the sink while you take the test. “It’s just peace of mind,” he reminds you. “There’s a bug going around Missy’s school and that might be all it is. This is just checking one possible cause off the list.” He’s rambling and trying to be as kind as he can, not letting silence linger so you can’t sink into bad memories. He never wants any pressure between you, and he knows he signed up for no more kids. That doesn’t mean he wouldn’t be thrilled if it turned out to be true, but it means he’s not expecting it.

You know why he is talking so much, and you appreciate it. Although it’s not necessary. Once the test is sitting on the back of the toilet, you wash your hands and step over to your husband, wrapping your arms around his waist and sighing when you feel the warmth of his embrace. “I love you.” You whisper, conflicted about looking at the test. Part of you just wants to tell Marcus to look to satisfy his own questions, but you know that will hurt his feelings.

"I love you, too, sweetheart." He murmurs back, gently peppering kisses in your hair and all over your face until you can't help but giggle. It's a long three minutes. By far the longest three minutes of your entire relationship, past or present. When the timer on your phone goes off, he squeezes you tightly in his arms. "Do you want to look or do you want me to do it?" He asks quietly.

You bite your lip and look up at him, falling more in love with him when you don’t see any judgment in his eyes. “You look.” You whisper, having seen enough negative tests to last a lifetime. “I know what it will say.”

"It's just peace of mind." He says again, but somewhere along the line he's gotten mixed up about whose mind needs the peace. Marcus slips off the counter, squeezing you again before he lets go and steps over to the toilet. He catches himself, not wanting you to hear him hold his breath. Willing himself to look normal and calm, Marcus leans over to look at the most important piece of plastic he's seen in years.

He's grateful that he's facing away from you because he knows how wide his eyes have blown. "Baby..." His voice waivers, carefully picking up the test and staring down at the little plus sign in the window. He's on the verge of exploding, trying not to get excited before he sees your reaction. He has no idea what you'll say when you see this.

You sigh, knowing that despite what he said, when you hear his voice catch, you know he had been hopeful. “I’m sorry Marcus, I really am.” You turn around and rub your hand up his quivering back. “It’s– I’m sorry.” You shouldn’t apologize but you do. “I’ll make a doctor’s appointment to find out what’s wrong.”

"Honey." Marcus inhales softly, turning around to face you and practically cradling the test in his hand. "You should look at this."

“I don’t—" You freeze when you see the face of the test, your heart stopping or skipping several beats as you stare at the  positive result. You make a noise that can’t even be described and rip your eyes away from the test to look up at Marcus. “Is that– Marcus, it that…positive?” You whisper, not daring to believe it. You’ve taken hundreds of tests and never even gotten a false positive.

"It is," he nods his head. He's trying so, so hard to keep a poker face until he can figure out how you feel about this but he's not sure how well he's doing. "It's positive, babe."

Your lower lip trembles and your eyes are already starting to fill with tears. “Positive means…I’m pregnant?” You whisper, staring back down at the test again, your lips starting to pull into a wide, ecstatic smile. “Marcus, I’m pregnant!”

The relief he feels at seeing you light up is palpable. He drops the test on the counter and scoops you up in his arms, feeling you grin against his neck as you hug the life out of each other. "You're pregnant," he whispers it against your lips, grinning along with you. "We're pregnant."

“Oh my God.” You sob out, the tears streaming down your face definitely ones of joy as you kiss your husband over and over again. “We’re, oh! I have to make an appointment. A blood test just to be certain, but I’ve never, ever had a positive test Marcus.”

"We'll call in a minute." His thumbs gently swipe away the tears running down your cheeks. Marcus is fairly certain he's never seen you this happy before, even in the video of your wedding. "We'll get the tests done and get you checked out, okay? Make sure everything is okay and get the coffee out of the kitchen so it won't make you sick again." He'd switch to tea and energy drinks in a heartbeat. This was the best reason in the world to have to change his routine.

You can’t help but beam up at him, excitement humming through your veins, and you feel like you could move mountains at this moment. “Later.” You tell him, pulling him to you for another kiss. “First I want you to take me to bed. Celebrate the little one the exact same way we created them.”

"My girl's always so eager." Marcus nips at your bottom lip, hands sliding down your back to squeeze your ass tightly with both hands. "So gorgeous when you're excited, hermosa." His kisses trailed from your lips to your jaw, down the column of your neck. One hand snakes around to rest over your belly. "Going to look even better growing my baby inside you."

You whimper at his words, never thinking that you would actually hear them in this context. It was so much sweeter that it had happened with Marcus. "I can't believe it." You admit, loving how his hardness is growing at your hip, twitching with growing need. "You like the idea of me fat and pregnant with your baby? Mood swings and sensitive tits?" You had thought your breasts being sensitive was just because of your oncoming period, the one that Marcus had noticed you missing. Being sick and the upheaval of combining your lives had just made you think that it was delayed. You had been late plenty of times with a negative test for you to trust your cycle.

“I’ll end up getting really protective,” he admits, stroking his thumb over the place your tiny baby has decided to settle in and grow. “I went a little crazy with the whole thing before Missy was born. But I’m your man for 3am snack runs, foot massages, a good solid fucking whenever and wherever you want, and keeping every doctor’s appointment scheduled so you don’t have to worry about it.” He already knows you will hate the doctor’s visits. All the poking and prodding will probably give you serious flashbacks, but he will be there to hold your hand every step of the way.

"I love you." You close your eyes and curl into his body, loving how much he is already putting you at ease. "I– Marcus I want you to take me to bed and give me that good solid fucking, and then I want to schedule our first appointment for our baby." You breathe out, your voice wavering slightly with the overwhelming emotions that are coursing through you. "And I can't wait to see protective daddy mode."

Marcus growls playfully, fusing his mouth to yours instantly. It is only a few steps to walk you backward from the en-suite into your bedroom, and he can make the walk from muscle memory alone. “Glad I called out of work,” he mumbles against your lips, already reaching for the hem of your t-shirt. “Gonna spend all day celebrating with you.”

You hum, smiling as he pulls back to lift your shirt over your head. "You seem to like that." You tease playfully, reaching down and cupping his hard length over his jeans. "Spending all day in bed with your wife."

He hisses at your touch, but can’t stop smiling. “Maybe I’m just really, really in love with you.” It’s no word of a lie. The last two months had proved to him that you were always meant to be a part of his life and he had grown exponentially more in love with you every single day. “And maybe I’m also turned on by how excited you are.”

"Mmmm." You love how open and honest he is with you. "I am excited and I want to show you just how excited I am." You normally let Marcus take control in the bedroom, reveling in his more dominant side, but right now you push him back from you slightly, smirking at his confusion as you look at him. "Strip." You order, biting your lip and looking at him in challenge.

His smile quickly morphed into a smirk. “Yes ma’am.” Never one to disobey a pregnant wife, Marcus pulls his t-shirt up over his head and tosses it aside, aiming for the laundry basket but failing miserably since he can’t take his eyes off of you. His favourite trick - undoing a zipper with his powers - comes in handy here and reveals that he hadn’t bothered to put underwear on this morning when he got out of the shower. Stiff and proud, his cock bobs when it’s free of his jeans and his smirk turns darker when he sees your eyes travel south and you bite your bottom lip. “See something you like?” He teases.

You inhale sharply, your own need making you reach for your clothes. "Fuck yes." You moan. "Get on the bed." You order him again, pulling your own shirt over your head and watching him lay down before you push the leggings and underwear you had been wearing down your legs and kick them off. He watches you as you kneel on the bed, making you smirk when he groans, your hands trailing lightly up his thighs. Bending down, your tongue runs up the length of him before coming back down, moving past his shaft and down to the hot and generously full balls beneath. Your lips press against them and you hear his moan when your tongue swipes at the soft skin. Paying special attention to the part of him that had given you such joy.

There is something about the gentleness of your caresses that lights a fire in Marcus as much as his normal rough and ready does. Making love is different than fucking with you - both are intense and highly pleasurable - but lovemaking always seems to press primal buttons in him that keep him close and doting on you for days. He knows that there will be more of this to come, but the sweet way you kiss his body is already making him squirm.

"Never thought I would get to have a baby." You admit, knowing he already knows this, but you feel like it needs to be said. Your lips press against his skin again and again in praise and worship, teasing and admiring. "But you, you gave me one." You realize now that it was your ex that was the issue. He had never shared the results of his tests, claiming they were normal, that you were the problem. Your nails scratch at the skin on his hips while you move up to let your tongue flutter around his frenulum. "Strong, virile and all mine." You whisper.

Marcus preens under your praise, feeling like there’s nothing at all special about him but if you say he’s special to you, then he believes it. Moans litter his responses to your touch, one hand slipping into your hair so he can make sure to see as much of his cock disappearing into your mouth as possible. “Anything for you,” he pants, humming in pleasure. “Try as much as you want or just love the hell out of this baby now.”

You moan around his cock, loving how he wants to give you options, leaving it up to you. "I'll be greedy later." You murmur, pulling off of him and kissing the tip of him, feeling his twitching where your hand is wrapped around the base. "Right now I just want to love the hell out of my baby daddy," you tease, winking up at him before you lick him again. He moans again and you release him, kissing up his stomach before you straddle him. Your dripping core pressing against his cock.

“I’m all yours, sweetheart.” He promises. He gently strokes your clit, loving the way you let him watch your slick cunt slide up and down his length before you sink down on him. His hips buck, already looking more than a little wrecked as his eyes plead with you to keep going.

Your eyes roll back, a soft moan filling the air at how full you feel. His cock fits perfectly inside you and while you know it's all in your mind, you feel more sensitive than you were last night when he had taken you. Your walls flutter around him while you grind down on him and circle your hips slowly, relishing the way that he grabs onto your hips to try to control himself.

“I’m all yours, baby,” he repeats, hissing when you grind down harder into his lap same he plants his feet flat on the bed to fuck up into you with more force. “Yours to use.” There’s a flash of dominance in the statement as he tells you what to do, but he is relinquishing control to you. Letting you set the pace and take what you need.

You moan, jostled on his cock and you love how he hits. Leaning down, you don’t miss how his eyes drift down to your tits, where they are brushing against his chest. “Marcus.” You whine, wanting his mouth on them. You push your chest towards his mouth.

He gladly latches on to one tit, tracing your piercing with his tongue and palming the other to give equal attention. He’s found out that the best way to make you squeal is to play with your tits with his powers, so the hard peak pressing against his palm receives a jolt of energy - just enough to be pleasurable before the threshold of pain. He explores with sucking kisses, already having memorized your body but always wanting to praise your peaks and valleys. He’s sure to leave live bites littered across your torso that the doctor will see but politely not comment on, and he loves it.

Your walls tighten around him, making your hips jerk when he tugs on the piercing with his teeth gently. "Oh fuck baby." you pant out, bouncing on him faster. Your walls slide up and down his shaft, your thighs burning from the fast pace that you start, needing him urgently and wanting to fall apart on him.

He knows that look on your face. He has dirty dreams about that face even though he sees it at least once a day. You’re so close that you would normally be begging if he were in charge. Begging for permission to soak his cock in your release, screaming his name as you came. Marcus loves that look.

He swaps his attention to your other breast and snakes his hand down between you to rub your clit, pushing you even further toward your peak. His spine is tingling deliciously and he knows he’s going to follow you right over the edge.

"Oh God, oh fuck, Marcus." You whimper, barreling closer to cumming, especially when he brings his hand down to rub your clit. The perfect pressure that you love against the sensitive bundle of nerves. "Oh fuck!" You cry out, your body jerking and you collapse on his chest, trying to grind your hips down to keep moving while you cum around him.

He fucks your through your orgasm, rhythmless thrusts jerking deep inside you until thick ropes of his cum paint your cunt and claim it as his. Marcus holds you tight to his chest as you both come down from your high, peppering kisses in your hair and finding your lips sweet, loving kisses. “I guess this is what happens when we never use protection,” he jokes, catching his breath while still inside you.

Your breath catches when you realize that. "Oh God." Your brow furrows and you pull back to look down at him seriously. "I– Marcus I didn't mean for this– how do you feel about this?" You ask. Logically, you know he is happy, he wouldn't have reacted the way that he did, but you had told him that you were safe. That you couldn't have children and now you are pregnant. That miniscule part of you feels like you tricked him into this and that is what is prompting this moment.

“Sweetheart...” he sees the worry in your eyes. The flash of guilt. “Baby, I’m thrilled .” He promises. “Please don’t think of this as some kind of accident.” His arms tighten around you, cradling your body against his. “This is a gift. You never thought you’d get to be a mother and now you can be. Honestly? I love being a dad. And Missy will be a fantastic big sister. Our family is growing and that’s a beautiful thing to be grateful for.”

You slump down against him, relieved by his reassurances. You press your lips to his and sigh, happy that you got to be with this man again. That you were able to even be where you are right now. "I love you, Mr. Moreno." You whisper, smiling against his lips and closing your eyes when his arms tighten around you. "So very much. I am so happy that we got married at our reunion. Best drunk decision I've ever made."

Marcus presses a playful, smacking kiss to your lips. “I wonder who won the bet?” He muses, waggling his eyebrows. “How many of our classmates do you think bet on you getting pregnant on our honeymoon?”

You snicker and bite your lip, contemplating. "Susan and Tim for sure." You guess, grinning down at him. "We will have to announce it on the app after we confirm it with the doctor and see who crows the loudest." You suggest, leaning down and kissing him again.

“We should call the doctor,” he mumbles, now kissing down your jaw and the line of your neck. He absolutely doesn't want to pull out of you even though he’s gone soft inside you, but neither of you has a cell phone nearby and it’s a very important appointment to make.

You murmur a soft protest but start to get off of him. "I guess it's for the best." You grumble before you flash him a grin. "I have to pee again."

“Get ready for a lot of that.” With one more kiss, Marcus lets you off of him and follows you into the bathroom to clean up. “You’re going to be a great mom,” he murmurs, squeezing your hand tight and pressing a kiss to your palm. “You’re so good with Missy already. You’re going to be amazing.”

"I hope so." You tell him, nervous but eager to face the challenges that come with motherhood. You break away from him so you can go use the bathroom and clean up. Watching Marcus pick up the pregnancy test and pad out of the room while you finish up, you hear him on the phone, murmuring too low for you to hear and you smile to yourself, your hand drifting down to cover your stomach protectively.

Miracles do happen it seems.

You're married to the first man you've ever loved and are now carrying his baby. You smile, looking down at the test you couldn't resist taking while you were cleaning up. Another pink plus sign, making you truly grateful.

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

My Masterlist!

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

[jmdbjk]

What happens in Vegas...

It's been a year since ...

A lot has happened in the past year.

Those glorious weeks in April 2022 in Las Vegas and the PTD concerts... hindsight... I should have tried to go. I didn’t know. We didn’t know what was coming. 

But I am going to see Yoongi soon! I thought my chance to be a part of the purple ocean had passed so I am very excited! I will talk more about that another time.

This past year, with the member's solo work so far, the world has started to really pay attention to BTS not just as a frivolous Kpop boy band but as serious music artists.

And even beyond, really embracing them at this point, not just as performers but as individual people doing what they can as South Koreans in a global community. It didn’t happen overnight. But the world is definitely watching now.

I watched Hobi's good-bye to Army welive this morning. I cried, I smiled, I cried along with him. I am going to miss him so much I can hardly keep it together right now as I type these words.

A year ago in Las Vegas:

I hope at some point in the far future the members will look back on this time and see that they had to grow up in front of the world's eyes and I’m sure they will do a hard cringe at a lot of it, but I hope they’ll see how much they were loved during this time. They will come to know that everything they did and our responses to those things are what will make them the men they will become.

As hard as it is knowing they won't be back together as a group for a while, I am savoring this solo era because I have learned SO MUCH about each of them as they roll out their projects.

This is my acknowledgement of the joke that is the BBHot100. It's dead to me at this point. I won't be discussing it further.

Other than that, what do you guys want me to talk about? Jikook? Jimin? Jungkook? Those are the choices lol. Should I do a poll?

#what happens in vegas did not stay in vegas #ptd in las vegas #ptd era bts #jikook #kookmin #jimin #jungkook #hobi

[rizlowwritessortof]

What Happens In Vegas Stays Doesn't Always Stay in Vegas

I was challenged by @deandoesthingstome to join the Halloween-Kinktober Challenge, and I had a little story idea in my mind, so I thought - what the hell! Thanks, Charlie! And thank you so much to @firefly-graphics for the dividers!

Sam and Dean head to Vegas, this time for Halloween. Dean's pumped about the huge Halloween costume party being held at their hotel, and he can't wait to dress up as his favorite superhero.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x his Batman fantasy girl

Word Count: 4140

Warnings: Smut, just the usual 😉

“Sammy, come on, man! Once in a lifetime chance to live out a fantasy! And you’re just gonna sit in the room and… read or some shit?”

Sam leveled a deadpan stare at Dean with a long-suffering sigh. “Dean. For the millionth time. I. Don’t. Like. Halloween. It sucks. I’m gonna take this vacation and relax. If I do decide to go out, I’ll hit the casino. But I’m not going to that ridiculous costume party.”

Dean frowned in frustration. “You are such a cranky old man. I thought maybe my brother would be the Robin to my Batman. But fine. I guess I’ll go by myself and have a fan-fucking-tastic time.”

Sam shot a bitch face his direction. “Good. Go hook up with Poison Ivy or something and have a blast. May the force be with you, or whatever.”

Dean’s eye roll practically turned him inside out, and he stormed into the bathroom to change into his costume. His epic, fucking awesome costume. He couldn’t not smile when he looked at it. He was gonna look amazing. And everyone knows the ladies love Batman. For tonight, he was going all out. For one night, he was gonna forget he was Dean Winchester and he was gonna be Batman.

He strolled into the gigantic room where the costume party was in full swing, heading straight for the large, round bar in the center and ordering a shot and a beer. He let his eyes roam over the crowd, trying not to let a grin ruin the image of his Dark Knight, but – this was awesome. And he was the only Batman – at least so far. Several other superheros were scattered through the room, along with monsters, movie characters, and a lot of sexy women in even sexier costumes.

It didn’t take long before he was flanked on either side by a couple of those tempting women, thoroughly enjoying the flirting and the way they giggled when he talked in his Batman voice. He was in the middle of a sentence when he felt someone’s hand on his shoulder. He glanced down to see a black glove, each finger tipped with a vicious-looking little claw.

Slowly he turned around, his lips pursed in a Batman-worthy contemplative frown as he took in the woman standing before him. “Catwoman,” he growled, and she smiled, bowing slightly.

“Batman. I was so hoping to rub shoulders with you tonight. Among other things,” she replied, her voice sultry and taunting. She was dressed in a skin-tight body suit, the gloves encasing her hands reaching midway on her biceps, her lips blood red and her eyes a stunning blue. Her shapely legs were encased in thigh-high black stockings, shining black stiletto heels on her feet. Perky little cat ears were perched atop her black hood, complete with mask. She was stunning.

“Well, I’d be happy to… rub something for you. What did you have in mind?” Dean answered, thinking to himself just exactly how much fun Sam was missing tonight. I mean, Batman and Catwoman? Not in his most porn-filled dreams had he imagined this little scenario, but he was in full Vegas mode and he was gonna go for it.

She moved closer, close enough that he could smell her perfume, and it made his mouth water. She leaned up, stretching to put her lips as close to his ear as she could reach. “Well, do you want to stay here and drink and flirt, or do you want to come to my room and pet the pussy?”

She moved back a step, watching as his tongue peeked out to run across his delicious, full lower lip before he smirked, and it was so sinful she felt her nipples tingle. Oh, he was going to be fun.

“Lead the way, beautiful,” he answered, and she allowed herself a triumphant little smile, crooking her finger to lure him along as she turned to slink out of the room. Dean was right behind her, his very large hand on her back, and she fought back a shiver at the thought of the things those hands could do.

Dean’s cock was already twitching as he watched her walk, every move deliberate and seductive. He couldn’t wait to explore those curves, make her lose her cool, controlled demeanor. Get those luscious legs wrapped around his head while he drove her crazy, watch her fall apart while she rode his cock. His hands were itching to touch her, and it hadn’t been fifteen minutes since he met her.

They arrived at the elevator, and he was happy to see it was empty. She entered, pushing the button for her floor, and he walked towards her slowly, crowding her until she was up against the wall, bracing one hand beside her head as he began to speak. “So, my name is…”

She placed one gloved finger over his lips. “Rule number one – we stay in character. You are Batman, I am Catwoman.”

“Oh, there are rules.”

“Only a few.”

“I can work with that,” he responded, goosebumps skittering up his spine as she lightly dragged her claws down the chest of his suit. A soft ‘ding’ sounded as they reached her floor, and he moved aside to let her lead the way again. He didn’t mind following. The view was amazing.

He followed her swaying hips to the door of her room, waiting for her to swipe the key, then escorting her in with a hand on her back. “Drink?” she asked, walking towards the bar in the middle of the room. Dean looked around, nodding in approval.

“Nice digs.”

“When I come to Vegas, I like to splurge.” She watched him silently for a few seconds, tilting her head slightly. “Can you remove the cape?” He shrugged, undoing the fastenings on his shoulders and turning to toss the cape into a nearby chair. She stood still, eyes gliding appreciatively over his obviously muscular back and the lovely round globes of his ass that his costume did nothing to disguise. He turned back towards her, accepting the tumbler of whiskey that she handed him, then sipping from her own as her eyes met his.

Dean took a swallow, watching her gaze move to his lips for a moment, and he smiled at her slowly. “So… tell me about these rules.”

She pulled out one of the bar stools and perched on it, crossing those gorgeous legs before she answered. The bulge beneath his costume was magnetic, and she deliberately forced her eyes to stay focused on his. “Second rule – costumes stay on. Except for the parts we need access to, obviously.”

“Okay.” He took another drink, running his tongue very slowly over his lips after he swallowed.

“Last rule – you have to make me come before you get to touch me with anything but that absolutely sinful mouth of yours.” She slid off of the stool and approached him, reaching to run a delicate knuckle over his bottom lip. “I want to ride that cowl.”

He took her knuckle between his teeth, biting down gently, then stepping back, downing the last of his whiskey and setting the glass down on the bedside table. Then he moved to the foot of the bed, sitting down and then laying back, his arms spread out, the wicked smile on his face sending a throbbing ache between her thighs. “Here, kitty, kitty,” he teased, his smile growing a little wider at the soft noise she couldn’t quite suppress.

She dropped her glass to the top of the bar, moving towards the bed, anticipation making it hard to breathe. When she reached the foot of the bed, she reached down between her legs and undid the hidden snaps, lifting the fabric out of the way as she crawled over him. His fingers twitched with the urge to touch her, but he kept them at his sides, letting her make her way up his body to hover above his face.

She was already wet and glistening, and the twinkle of a piercing made him swear in a low growl. “Fuck me, get down here.”

She lowered herself, gasping as he nudged at her piercing with his agile tongue, then trapped it between his teeth to give a gentle tug. Her helpless moan made him smile, and he lowered his chin to his chest to run the flat of his tongue from her entrance to her clit, ending with a little flick. The vibrations of the appreciative noises he made sent a shudder through her, and when he speared his tongue inside her, she gave in and began to ride his jaw. He licked and sucked at her lower lips until she was whining and writhing over him, and then moved up to her clit, manipulating the metal with his tongue as he sucked hard on the pulsing little nub. Her orgasm was intense, a loud cry forced from her throat as she rode him desperately until she fell to the bed beside him, completely spent.

Dean sat up, wiping his face on the sheet and flexing his aching jaw, turning to watch her panting, lying limp on the bed beside him. “Think we covered that last rule,” he smirked, and she smiled weakly, nodding.

“That was – exquisite,” she whispered. “I can’t wait to see what you can do with the rest of your body.”

“Another drink first?” he asked, and she nodded.

“Not whiskey. Water.”

He laughed softly. “Good idea.” He went to the mini-fridge and grabbed a bottle of water, sitting down on the bed beside her and taking off the cap as she sat up and took it from him gratefully. After downing half the bottle, she handed it back to him and licked her lips. Dean put the cap back on and leaned in to kiss her, forcing her to lay back down as he moved to hover over her. She reached for his belt, looking up at him hungrily as he pulled back.

“Tell me this suit has a zipper. Or do I need to cut it to ribbons with my claws?”

“Easy, kitten,” he grinned, removing the belt from his costume and working the fastenings loose, then lowering the zipper. She stared as he freed himself, her claws digging into the mattress on either side of her as he stroked himself slowly with his gloved hand.

“Condom, top drawer,” she directed, watching as he put it on and then shifted his hips down, nudging the head of his cock against her entrance before pushing slowly forward. Her thighs trembled around him as he buried himself deep, then rose to his knees, pulling her hips up snug against him.

She shifted her body, arching her back as she adjusted to his size, her mouth open and eyes half-closed in blissful appreciation as she moaned, low and throaty, her head thrown back into the pillow.

Dean pulled back and drove back inside her, forcing a garbled cry from her throat. Her eyes rolled back and closed as he began to rock into her hard and fast, his hands gripping her hips. After a few strokes, she opened her eyes, rasping out breathlessly, “Don’t hold back.”

He stared down at her, but her unflinching gaze told him all he needed to know. He pulled out and flipped her over, manhandling her into position on her knees, one hand on her back as he slammed back inside to the hilt. He fucked into her hard, his other hand moving down between her legs to flick and tug at her clit and piercing, and she began to wail, her cunt clenching around his cock.

Her cries got louder and longer until she finally screamed, “Fuck, YES!!!”, coming hard, and Dean’s low growl morphed into a shout as he followed her over the edge, pulsing hot and thick inside her. She went limp beneath him seconds before he fell forward, catching himself on his hands and panting hard.

After a moment, he pulled out gingerly, dropping down and rolling to his back beside her. She turned her head, eyes half-focused, a satisfied smile on her lips. “That was – energetic,” she managed, and Dean laughed softly.

“You told me not to hold back.” He blew out a breath. “So – now what?”

She rolled to her back, then sat up on the edge of the bed for a moment before standing, grabbing tissues from beside the bed to clean up a little and then fastening the snaps between her legs again. “Now – it’s time to go.”

He watched her for a moment, admiring her curves from his vantage point before getting to his feet and putting himself back together. “If that’s what you want.”

She sounded slightly unsure of herself for the first time as she replied. “I – I just have other things to take care of. You understand.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Well… it’s been fun, kitten.”

She nodded, taking several swallows of water before answering. “Yes, it has.” She still wasn’t looking at him, so he grabbed his cape from the chair and headed for the door. He opened it, glancing over his shoulder, and she looked towards him, finally. “Good night, Batman.”

“’Night, Catwoman. Take care of yourself.”

The door closed behind him, and she dropped down onto the bar stool, her entire body trembling. Hard to believe she had actually followed through – that she had actually pulled it off. She finally rose to her feet to slip the heels off and begin gathering her things. It was a long drive home.

Dean paused outside the door, thoughtfully gnawing at his bottom lip. Something was nagging at him, but he couldn’t nail it down. He finally sighed and headed for the elevators, more than ready to get out of his costume and into a shower.

Two days later, Sam and Dean dragged their Vegas-weary selves into the bunker, Dean calling out as they headed down the stairs. “Hi, honey, we’re home!”

“Where is she?” Sam asked, and Dean shrugged, dropping his duffle and heading for the kitchen and a beer. There she was, earbuds in, singing along, dancing a little as she stirred something on the counter.

He grinned, sneaking up behind her and bending close.

“We’re home,” he said loudly, and she screeched, whirling around, her eyes wide and the spoon held out in front of her like a weapon. He burst into laughter, almost bent over double, her blow to his shoulder not even registering. “Oh my god, your face!”

“You fucking asshole! I almost had a heart attack, you… fucking jerk!” She took out her earbuds and tossed them to the table, finally unable to completely smother her smile.

“I’m sorry,” he managed, still cracking up.

“You are so not,” she argued, turning to look at Sam as he entered the room. “Your brother is a jerk.”

“Not news to me,” Sam grinned. “I’ve been calling him a jerk for years.”

“Bitch,” Dean fired back at him, tossing him a beer and raising an eyebrow at her. “Want one?”

“Yes. Please.” She took a swallow and sat down at the table. “So tell me all the things. What craziness happened in Vegas?”

Sam smirked, glancing at Dean, and she raised an eyebrow, turning that direction. “Okay, Winchester, spill. From the look on Sam’s face, it must be good.”

“Like you wanna hear about my – what do you call ‘em? ‘Fuck ‘em and leave ‘em’s’?”

“Well, that’s what they are… but if it’s a good story, yeah, I wanna hear! Not, like, the dirty details…”

“That’s the best part,” he retorted, and she shook her head.

“He hooked up with Catwoman. In his Batman suit,” Sam shared, still smirking at his brother.

She grinned. “Impressive.”

Dean nodded. “Pretty awesome. And the best – or the weirdest – part was, we stayed in costume the whole time. Her rule.”

She laughed, taking another drink of her beer. “That’s amazing. Probably never top that, huh?”

Dean wiggled his eyebrows at her. “Oh, I topped it, I bottomed it…”

“Ewwww, no,” she choked, shaking her head. “TMI, dude. Get outta my kitchen and let me finish cooking.” She looked Sam’s direction. “Unless you have an awesome story to share?”

Dean snorted. “Captain Snooze over there barely left the room.”

“I had a great time, very relaxing, thank you very much,” Sam snarked back as the two of them headed out of the room.

She took a deep breath, blowing it out slowly before getting up to finish mixing the pie filling she was making for dessert. So far, so good…

The table was the scene of the absolute destruction of the dish of lasagna she had made, only crumbs left of the garlic bread. “Didn’t you guys eat in Vegas?” she asked, laughing.

“Not like this,” Dean responded, his mouth still half full of his last bite. “I know you made pie. Right? Because you love me?”

“Yes, I made pie, and yes, I love you guys, and yes – you are spoiled rotten.” She stood up, reaching for dishes. “And you can actually have some if you help clean up this mess.”

They both scrambled to their feet to help, and then all three came back to the table with a huge slice of chocolate cream pie topped with fluffy meringue. Dean was making love to it with his eyes, and Sam just shook his head and dug in, a newspaper spread out on the table beside him.

“God, this is good,” Dean mushed out around a mouthful of pie filling, and she smiled at him happily before taking a bite herself. The sound that came out of her mouth bordered on pornographic, and Dean felt his body flush hot as he swallowed hard.

Sam glanced up to see his brother’s face, frowning in concern. “Dean, you okay?”

Dean pushed back from the table, tossing a ‘Yeah’ over his shoulder as he left the room. Sam looked at her, confused. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he’s sick? He left his pie. He never leaves pie.”

Sam shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ll go check on him later.”

She nodded, continuing on her dessert. “Can I have the crossword puzzle?”

A couple of hours later, dishes washed and crossword puzzle done, she said goodnight to Sam and headed for her room. She debated knocking on Dean’s door to make sure he was all right, but maybe he was sleeping, and she didn’t want to disturb him. So weird how he had just run out of the room and never come back, though. Hopefully he was okay.

She opened her door and reached for the desk lamp, swinging the door shut quietly and walking towards the dresser. She turned slowly as her brain finally registered what her peripheral vision had picked up on, and she went pale as she finally faced him.

Dean was in the chair in the corner of the room, her black cat ears and hood dangling from his fingers, one eyebrow cocked as he stared her down. “Hello, kitten,” he said, his voice low.

“Oh, fuck.” She hesitated for a second, then made a beeline for the door, but he moved fast, bracing his hand on the door to prevent her from opening it. She began to stammer, not able to string together a coherent sentence as she tried to explain. “I didn’t mean… I mean, I did, but you… it wasn’t supposed to…”

She kept stuttering and babbling as he took her by the shoulder and turned her around to face him,

staring down at her until she finally trailed off into silence. He drew closer, leaning his forehead against hers. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I… I don’t know. I guess I was afraid... That you wouldn’t want me...”

His lips moved close to hers, his breath warm as he spoke softly. “I’ve wanted you for a long time.” She watched his eyes close, and hers followed suit as he kissed her, his tongue sweeping over her lips. She melted into him as she responded, losing herself in the taste and feel of him, handfuls of his shirt in her fists as he crowded her against the door.

When they finally paused again, she looked up at him, her feelings evident in her eyes. “Dean – me, too.” He smiled, and it was contagious, her eyes shining up at him as he guided her towards the bed, sitting down and pulling her to stand between his knees.

“You know, I didn’t really get to see all of you the other night,” he hinted, and she ducked her head, blushing a little but still smiling. She grabbed the hem of her shirt and lifted it over her head, tossing it back behind her before unfastening her bra and letting it fall to the floor. Dean’s smile faded as he took in the sight before him, reaching up to glide his fingertips almost reverently over her soft curves. “So much better than I imagined,” he whispered, then leaned in to place a gentle kiss on her nipple before using his tongue to guide it between his lips.

She inhaled, long and slow, her knees going weak as he surrounded her with one arm and pulled her close. She clung to him, moaning softly as he cupped her other breast in his hand, kneading at it as he sucked and teased at its twin. She was trembling when he stopped, looking up at her as he laid back on the bed, pulling her down with him.

“So, no rules this time?” Dean teased, and she shook her head.

“No rules.” She kissed him, then looked down at him, her lip between her teeth. “Except maybe, less clothes?”

“Now that’s a rule I can get behind,” Dean grinned.

Dean dragged himself to the shower a little while later, leaving her still asleep in her bed. He yawned his way into the kitchen, grabbing a beer from the fridge, then heading to the library where Sam sat with his laptop open. He shot his big brother a sidelong glance, a smirk on his face, resisting the urge to say something.

“What?” Dean asked, unable to let it slide.

“So I guess Vegas followed you home?”

Dean raised an eyebrow with a sheepish little smile. “How did you know?”

“Guessed. Between the noises I’ve been hearing all afternoon and the way you hot-footed it out of here and left your pie on the table… So, was she your Catwoman?”

“Yeah, I wasn’t supposed to figure it out, I guess – but as soon as she made that sexy little noise when she took a bite of her pie, I knew.” Sam laughed softly, nodding.

“So that’s what happened.”

“I don’t know why she never said anything to me…”

“Same reason you never said anything to her. You’ve been drooling over her for a while now, dude, admit it.”

Dean frowned. “I wasn’t drooling. I was… I dunno, but it wasn’t drooling.”

“Whatever, Dean. It’s good, however it happened. I think she’s good for you.”

Dean grinned. “Sooooo good.”

“Okay, we’re done now,” Sam shook his head and Dean took another drink, still smiling.

She finally appeared a couple of hours later, fresh from the shower, a little shy about showing her face. Dean rose to his feet and approached her, slipping an arm around her waist and kissing her softly. She glanced towards Sam, who studiously avoided looking, and Dean leaned close to her ear. “He knows.”

She nodded, blushing a little and settled into Dean’s warmth for a moment before speaking up. “Are you guys hungry? I’m starving.”

Sam spoke up. “Yeah, I thought I’d run to town and grab some pizzas, if that sounds okay to you guys.”

After a quick discussion on what kind of pizza he should bring home, Sam headed out and Dean plopped down on the sofa, waving her over with tip of his head. “C’mere, beautiful.”

She came close, and he grabbed her, pulling her onto his lap as she squeaked in surprise. “Don’t be starting anything, I’m starving. I might take a bite out of something I shouldn’t.”

His eyebrows shot up, and he looked up at her, eyes hopeful. “So, does that mean you wanna…?”

“Well, I didn’t get the chance to do that the other night, either,” she teased back, and Dean groaned a little at the thought of her lips on his cock.

“That sounds fucking amazing. But can you do me a favor first?”

She leaned down to kiss him, making him forget everything else for a moment before she pulled back and asked, “What?”

“Can you maybe put on some of that red lipstick first?”

She smiled seductively, speaking in her sultry Catwoman voice. “Anything for you, Bats.”

Tags for my lovelies:  @saenalife    @deanscarlett    @jensensgotyoudean    @jinkieswouldyoulookatthis    @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog    @geeklibrarian    @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid      @mrswhozeewhatsis    @littlegreenplasticsoldier    @sleep-silent-angel    @darcia22    @winchesterprincessbride    @ellen-reincarnated1967    @eyes-of-a-disney-princess      @deanslittleangel2y5    @melanie451        @spectaculacular-sammy     @bookchic20    @jodyri    @selma-jean-blog           @savingapplepie-eatingthings    @kittenofdoomage    @masked-maiden42    @lean-mean-deanwinchester    @ericuhlorain    @undecided-garden    @ceeceewinchester    @typicalweirdbookworm          @callmesweetheartifyoumeanit    @youtoldalie    @tanithlowisabamf-blog    @deandoesthingstome    @jxackles    @nerdwholikesword    @soivebuiltupaworldofmagic    @kreweofimp  @gabavaldman    @chaos-and-the-calm67-blog    @darkx143    @disassociativedogma    @ioanashalala    @jencharlan    @deansthirstblog     @dorky-and-i-know-it    @mischief-maker1    @winchestersandwordprocessors    @percussiongirl2017    @bringmesomepie56   @akshi8278    @torn-and-frayed    @sandlee44   @wingedcatninja  @evansrogerskitten   @emoryhemsworth  @peaceinourtime82  @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior  @sarcasmqueen74   @maliburenee     @mrsjenniferwinchester   @yeehawbitchs   @emily-winchester  @hobby27    spnbaby-67

#what happens in vegas doesn't always stay in vegas #halloween-kinktober challenge #dean fic #dean x female oc #dean smut #dean gets to be batman #not completely happy with this but i hope y'all have fun with it

[leviathanswingman]

Barbatos voice: Oh no, I've seen plenty already :)

#obey me #solodeus #will i ever shut up about them? hmmm no :) #solodeus pact code word: what happens in vegas stays in vegas

[sidsthekid]

when you're smiling (the whole world smiles with you)

pit vs vgk | 1.20.24

#what happens in vegas stays in vegas...as they say #super fun though to see the pens out on the west coast #even funner to listen to the lgp chants haha #sidney crosby #just a kid #pittsburgh penguins

[p-redux]

I was wrong about the similar shirt that MC has. Aside from a blurry face, I also didn't think it could be KE because she doesn't seem to own anything with sleeves that isn't workout gear or a bikini, lol. But problem solved... Sam was at Neiman Marcus to buy a dress! Neiman Marcus Herve Leger Cutout Long-Sleeve Ottoman Knit Mini Dress

I looked at the pics of Sam with the mystery brunette in Vegas again...I know we all thought it was Monika, but now I'm thinking it was Karina. Karina is 5'11 , the height seems to match up. 🤷‍♀️

And predictably and pathetically, the usual trolls are already descending on Karina's IG even though she hasn't posted since March. 🙄

Really Cheryl? Aka Boot Sauce Punk aka one of the biggest Sam haters out there...you DON'T know Sam.

Fucking pathetic bitches. Ugh.

#samheughan #karinaelle #samrina #monikaclarke #samonika #lasvegas #what happens in vegas stays in vegas #vegas #john legend #bootsaucepunk #cheryl #trolls #haters

[sister-calliope]

Just driving around Las Vegas and found this. The color is rather perfect isn’t it?

#Conrad #Konrad Curze #primarchs #wonder what goes on in there #what happens in Space Vegas stays in Space Vegas