#Marcus Pike/Reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

absurdthirst · 3 months ago

Text

The Rebound {Marcus Pike x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 28.1k

Warnings: Drinking, despression, flirting, sexual overtures, going home with a stranger, one night stands, oral sex (male and female receiving), vaginal sex, multiple positions, spanking (slightly), giving Marcus his confidence back, multiple orgasms, post sex snacking, miscommunication, hard feelings, pregnancy, yearning, idiots who don't talk, repressed feelings, childbirth, post baby body issues

Comments: Going out for a drink lands you in the same space as newly dumped Marcus Pike. Sharing a drink and going home together changes both for your lives.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Marcus Pike MasterList ||

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

Your glass of white wine isn’t that great, but it’s better than the whiskey sour that some suit that looked like one of those Wall Street wannabe bros who had started taking over the happy hours here, sent over with his number on a napkin. The band was playing, although there weren't a lot of people listening, everyone was having their own conversations. Except one.

He’s sitting at the bar by himself. A glass of whiskey and a beer sitting in front of him. You’ve seen him already down one of each, so it seems like he’s on a mission to get drunk. Looking miserable and lost as he stares at the wood grain on the bar top and continuously looks at his phone. Like he’s waiting for someone to call, or hoping they do. He’s handsome. Neat, short, slightly wavy brown hair. Clean shaven, wearing a suit, although the jacket is thrown over the back of his chair and his sleeves are rolled up. Like it’s been a horrible day. You aren’t close enough to see what color his eyes are, but you pick up your wine glass and walk towards him, headed for the empty seat beside him. He looks like he could use a friend.

Marcus looks up as you sit beside him and his eyes widen. You’re beautiful. He doesn’t know what to say. Apparently he’s terrible with women. Teresa dumped him two days ago for Jane and all his dreams of a wife, two kids and a dog in D.C went up in flames. “Can I help you?” He asks, genuine and not rude. Marcus can never be rude. Unless he’s really pissed off.

You smile at him, pleased to know that your theory that he had warm brown eyes was right. They look like they are normally kind, although right now they are clouded with confusion and sadness. “That’s funny.” You tell him, taking a sip of the wine. “I was just about to ask you that same question.” You settle into the seat beside him and turn your body to face him. “You look like you could use a friend right now.”

Marcus sighs, rubbing his cheek, “am I that obvious?” He asks and you offer him a sympathetic smile. You are even more gorgeous when he’s looking at you. “I- I just got dumped and my pathetic ass is trying to find happiness in a beer which I know isn’t the right place but a man has to do what he can, huh?” He asks, picking up the bottle and tilting it towards you.

“Hmmm.” You shake your head and lift your glass to the mouth of his bottle and tap it gently. “Unless there are some serious red flags that I am missing, I have to wonder what kind of idiot you were dating?” You snort and tilt your head curiously. “Because I see a really handsome man who looks like he’s a decent person and…” you lean in and take an exaggerated sniff. “Yep, smells great too.”

Marcus can’t help but chuckle, you are making him feel better which he didn’t even think was possible. “I - uh, she was in love with someone else. I proposed. She said yes. We were gonna move to D.C and then she called me and said she wasn’t coming. I bought a three bed townhouse and she dumped me over the phone before getting with the man she loved.” It sounds pathetic to his own ears.

“Damn.” You wince and shake your head. “You poor bastard. You were the hook character.” He frowns in confusion and you shrug. “You were the catalyst for your ex-finacée and her boy-toy to realize their feelings for one another.” You hate that he was hurt, it seems like he had plans for a life and the confidence to back it up. “An innocent that was sacrificed for their story line.”

You talk about him like he’s a character on a show but you’re not wrong. “Ouch. When you put it like that-” He waves down the bartender, “another round and whatever the lady is having.” He says and you order another glass of wine. “What about you? What’s a beautiful woman doing talking to me and not going out on a date?” He asks, certain that you are taken. Anyone with eyes would be an idiot to not take you for their own.

“Bored.” You shrug slightly. “My apartment was driving me crazy tonight for some reason.” You smirk. “A pizza and re-runs didn’t sound appealing and so I’m here, with you.” You make it sound like it’s the most reasonable thing in the world and you tell him your name. “What’s the name of my new friend?” You ask curiously, interested in learning about him.

He smiles and says, “Marcus Pike.” You love how he says his full name and he bites his lip, “so you’re single? I find that hard to believe. Surely you have someone. Boyfriend? Girlfriend?” He questions, knowing that you could have someone at home. The thought makes his stomach twist with sadness but he pushes that aside.

“Unless you count the pet rock named Steve, I’m hopelessly single.” You like the sound of his laugh, his smile is nice and his teeth are white and pretty damn straight, at least on top. You always appreciate a nice set of teeth. The way his eyes crinkle makes you think that laughter is one of the little things in life that he enjoys. “Too busy for relationships.” You admit. “I work for myself and spend too much time doing it.”

His brow furrows, “you must be busy. You gotta be getting hit on, left and right.” He says with sincerity, knowing that he’d be flirting up a storm if he wasn’t jilted but he’d come to realize when Teresa dumped him that maybe he jumps in too fast. “Well, hopefully you enjoy your work and you’re good at it.” He says and you nod, “I like to think so.” The bartender sets the drinks down and Marcus pushes his empty beer bottle aside to grab the new one. “To being single.” He toasts and you clink your wine glass against his bottle.

“To being single.” You take another sip of your wine and then decide to ask. “So what is it that you do, Marcus Pike?” You ask, smiling at him.

He smirks, tilting his head slightly, “if I tell you, I might have to kill you.” He teases and you giggle, “must be top secret.” He chuckles, “I, uh, I work for the FBI.” He confesses, “art department.”

"The art department." You are impressed and you lift your brows to show it. "Surrounded by beauty all day, I'm assuming you must spend a lot of time looking at naked paintings." You tease, giving him a playful wink. "The porn of the ancient world."

Marcus blushes a little, knowing he might’ve spent a little too much time studying those pieces that were revealing too much. “Exactly but it’s…it’s not just one type of body. It’s every body type. All walks of life are depicted in beauty and painted with passion. It’s - it’s not heartless and pre-produced. It’s raw. It’s - it’s emotional.” He says passionately, knowing that the pieces he rescues are worth it.

“I don’t blame you.” You agree. “I love real artwork. Reality of bodies, of beauty.” You shrug. “Sometimes I wish that more people produced something real rather than filling their houses down the latest little trendy knickknack.” You take another sip of your wine. “It sounds like your job is a perfect fit for you.”

Marcus likes the way you talk and the way you look. A normally intoxicating combination for him to be flirty but he holds back a little. “I love it.” He confesses, “it’s tough but so rewarding.” He takes another sip of his beer, “you asked about my red flags earlier…mine are that I jump in too quickly, put my heart on the line, and act like a lovesick fool. What about you? You’re single. You got a dead body in a closet or something?” He teases, offering you a wink.

“Boy, it would be a mistake to tell the FBI about the bodies in the freezer!” You joke, reaching out and giving him a playful shove. “You don’t put them in the closet until they are skeletons. That way they don’t stink.” You snort. “No, my red flags are that I don’t really trust myself.” You admit. “I manage to find assholes. They talk a good game, treat me well to start and then it’s just a classic bunch of lying, cheating assholes.” You shrug. “So I’ve stopped looking for now. Taking a break and just having fun.”

Marcus likes you and that scares him. He just got his heart crushed but you’re making him believe that maybe there’s hope for something good in his life. “So no dead bodies.” He hums, “beautiful. Funny…sexy.” He adds after a pause, “and you don’t like cheating assholes. That’s it. You are too damn good to be having a drink with me.” He declares and you scoff but he continues, “let alone come home with me.” He says that without thinking too much, hoping you don’t slap him and laugh in his face.

You’ve told him that you just wanted to have fun and he’s obviously on the rebound from having his heart broken. This wouldn’t be a permanent thing, but it could be a good night for you both. Maybe a little self confidence booster that both of you need. “My place or yours?” You ask curiously, tilting your head and smirking at him.

He raises his eyebrows at your confident response and he smirks, gesturing the bartender over without taking his eyes off of you. When the bartender arrives, he briefly looks at him to ask to close out his tab, “add her drinks to it.” He says and turns back to look at you, “whatever you’re most comfortable with.” He responds, knowing you might feel better in your own space. He’s not unfamiliar with a walk of shame.

Biting your lip, you reach out and pat his chest, feeling a little bit of firm muscle underneath. He’s not just a suit, but he’s also not a meathead. “I’m assuming your ex spent plenty of time in your bed?” You ask, smirking when he nods. “So we will go back to yours and the next time you go to bed by yourself, you’ll be thinking about how I looked sprawled out and moaning your name.”

He almost wants to ask if you’ve fallen out of his dreams and he offers you a slightly cocky smirk after he hands his card to the bartender when he returns with the check, “and hopefully you’ll leave my bed thinking about how I made you moan my name.” He drags his tongue along his lower lip, “even when you are married with kids in years to come.”

Standing up, you finish your wine and grab your purse. “Why don’t we go find out, Mr. Pike?” You ask playfully. “I need a new fantasy to replay in my head when I’m all along with my vibrator.”

He quickly signs the check and puts his card in his wallet before he stands and wraps his arm around your waist. “You drive here?” He asks and you shake your head, “me neither. Let’s get an Uber and I’ll drop you home in the morning. Or pay for your cab.” He promises, wanting to be a gentleman first and foremost.

Smiling as you walk outside, you turn and press your lips to his. “Green flags so far.” You tease. “Order that Uber so we can get there faster.” You order him, eager to see about making this sweet and handsome man have a fantastic ending to his night. “Faster we do that, the faster I am sucking your cock.”

He groans and fumbles with his phone to order an Uber and when he does, he reaches for your waist, dragging you against him before his lips press against yours. Your arms wrap around his neck and he smiles against your lips for a second until he’s tilting his head to deepen the kiss by sliding his tongue into your mouth.

People coming and going from the bar see you, but you don’t care. Let them see. You moan softly and kiss him back, finding that this man has some passion to temper his sweetness and that turns you on. You press against him and smirk into the kiss when you feel that he’s already starting to harden against your stomach.

His phone buzzes a few moments later and he nudges his nose against yours before he pulls his phone out and looks up, “Uber is here.” He says and looks out for the Toyota Camry. He reluctantly lets you go and takes your hand to guide you over to the car. He checks the plate before he opens the door and the driver says “Marcus?” Your drink buddy says yes as he slides in beside you in the back seat and shuts the door. The driver nods and pulls away from the bar while Marcus rests his hand on your thigh. “You know…I don’t usually do this. I’m more of a relationship kind of guy but you…you make me wanna be spontaneous.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not judging you.” You promise, smiling at him, “honestly? I don’t do this often either. But I think that tonight, we need this. Both of us.” You lean in and nip the edge of his jaw. “And what’s that old saying? To get over someone you need to get under someone new? I’ll ride you and make that reality.” You whisper in his ear before you lick the shell playfully.

He groans, squeezing your thigh and he turns his head so he can kiss you. His tongue slides into your mouth again and his free hand cups your cheek. He doesn’t care that this might affect his 5.0 Uber rating when you feel so good.

You spend the rest of the ride kissing Marcus. Neither one of you starts groping, that would be too much, but the kisses are passionate and promising so much more to come. When the Uber slows down, you pull away reluctantly. “We’re here?” You ask breathlessly, eager to be at your destination.

Marcus pecks your lips, loving the look on your face as he thanks the driver and mentally makes a note to tip the man a little more as he opens the car door and holds his hand out to help you out. “We’re here.” Marcus says, looking up at the townhouse he bought with Teresa in mind. He fumbles for his keys in his pocket and guides you to the steps to the front door.

“Oh this is lovely.” For a townhouse, the place is quite spacious. It reminds you of the old Brownstones in New York. “You must have gotten a hell of a deal. I’ve been looking for a place for forever.” You tell him, setting your purse down. “Reason four hundred and fifty-five that your ex is an idiot.”

Marcus chuckles as he takes his shoes off near the door and locks it behind you when you are in his hallway. “Four hundred reasons so far?” He teases and you take off your shoes to leave them next to his. He looks down at that for a second and his heart aches, knowing they will be there for tonight but he wants to have someone’s shoes next to his for the rest of his life. “You want a drink?” He asks, walking ahead into his living room with the open plan kitchen. This place was a hell of a deal. A tip off from a coworker living in D.C whose friend was thinking about selling so he got the place before it even hit the market.

“Whatever you are having.” You don’t miss the way his face falls for a second and you follow him. “Tonight I’m completely open to whatever you want to do.” You grin when he looks back at you. “Charades, using your handcuffs. I’m assuming you have handcuffs?” You waggle your brow. “I’m down for whatever.”

He chuckles, “I do have handcuffs.” He pours a glass of wine for you and one for himself, happy to have a glass of Chardonnay. He hands you the glass after you sit down on his sofa and he takes a sip once he’s sat beside you. He’s still half hard and he watches you for a second. “Anyone ever told you you have gorgeous hands?” He asks, his eyes dropping to your fingers wrapped around your glass.

That’s a new one for you and for a moment, you pull your hand away so you can look at your hand and the glass. “I can’t say that I have.” You admit, smirking slightly as you take a sip of your wine. “Want to see them around your cock?” You ask, reaching over and sliding your hand up his thigh.

Your hand on his thigh makes his cock twitch in his pants and he groans softly, leaning over to take the glass from your hand and he sets the glasses down on his coffee table. Turning back towards you, he reaches for your hand to place it higher on his thigh as he cups your cheek to press his lips to yours.

There’s always that little fluttering of anticipation in the beginning, swirling in your stomach and turning into slick between your thighs. Kissing him back, you slide your hand up to cup his hardening cock through the slacks of his suit and moan when you feel him twitch and thicken even more. He’s got a great cock, you can just tell. You manage to grip him through the material and squeeze before moving to his belt buckle. He’s gotten dumped and feels down, and you know that a blowjob would make him feel better.

He moans into your mouth when you fumble with the buckle of his belt and he pulls back, eager to help as he reaches down to undo it and you grin, “eager?” He chuckles, “you have no idea.” He is excited by you, by the way you touch him and he wants more. When you unbutton his pans and pull the zipper down, his groan is muffled against your jaw when you reach in to grip his cock. “Fuck.” He hisses as you pull him out and he loves how hot your hand is around him.

“Holy shit.” Your eyes widen and you look down at the thick length that is already red and leaking around the head. “Her new boy toy has to be hung like a fucking buffalo.” You snort, shaking your head and looking back up at him. “Reason four fifty-six.” You hum before you lean in to kiss him roughly as you slide off the couch to and to your knees between his spread thighs.

He watches you with rapture, unable to push you away when you look so hot on your knees between his spread thighs. His cheeks are flushed and he watches as you take him into your hand again. “Fuck. You look so pretty like this.” He compliments breathlessly, his hands turning into fists when you lean closer.

You hum in delight and start to slowly pump his cock. Kissing the tip before you run the flat of your tongue over it. Groaning at the salty taste of his precum. Dragging your tongue around the perfectly cut head and looking up at him as you start to take him into your mouth.

Marcus tilts his head back slightly, groaning your name as you take him deeper and he closes his eyes before he decides he wants to watch you. He rolls his head back to rest his chin on his chest as he watches you, your eyelashes fluttering as your mouth engulfs his length.

Especially the first time you blow a guy, you want it to be good. Nice and wet and slow as you take him deeper and swallow around the head. Marcus looks completely enthralled and almost starry eyed, making you wonder when the last time his ex had sucked his cock. You’ve always enjoyed it, it turns you on, and you can’t imagine he’s the type of man that never reciprocates.

“Jesus.” He hisses as you swallow around him and he reaches out to caress your cheek. “You’re so fucking gorgeous.” He coos, complimenting you as you suck his cock like you love it. “You like having my dick in your throat?” He asks, his voice raspy with arousal and his cock twitches when you moan around him.

Fuck, his voice goes straight to your pussy and you imagine how he would sound while he’s buried deep inside you. You shift to cradle his balls in your hand gently while you start to bob your head up and down on his length.

Marcus hisses, his fingers curling around the edge of the sofa as you start a pace that has his toes curling against the rug. It’s so good. Teresa never gave him a blowjob. Said it wasn’t her favorite thing and he never pushed her to do it but you seem to love it. “Fuck. Fuck. Oh shit.” He gasps, feeling his balls tightening in your grip as you roll them in your fingers.

He’s about to cum. You can tell and you hum around him, encouraging him to cum down your throat. Sucking a little harder and swallowing around him, you keep your eyes on his wrecked face.

"Jesus Christtttt." He hisses before he falls over the edge. His cock twitches in your throat before he starts to spurt hot seed into your mouth and you swallow around him. His groan is wrecked as he squeezes his eyes shut and nearly rips the sofa cushion.

You swallow him down, trying to keep any of it from spilling out of the corners of your mouth. Working him until he is slumped down into the couch with a soft moan. Only then do you finally let up, pulling off him with a small pop and smiling as he gives a huge sigh.

He inhales deeply, feeling like he’s outside of his body, until he opens his eyes and looks down at you. You have a cocky grin on your face and he growls, suddenly desperate to touch and taste you. “Strip down. Now.” He demands, wanting to see you.

You lift your brow at the command in his voice, finding it sexy and you push off your knees to do just that. Since you had gone out tonight, you had decided on a dress and now reach behind you to unzip it. “Everything?” You ask, happy you had worn sexier undergarments than usual as your dress falls to the floor and you step out of it, revealing your lacy bra and matching panties.

He groans at the sight of the lacy bra and panties, leaning closer as he unbuttons his shirt after pulling his tie from his collar. “You expecting to be going home with someone?” He teases as he shrugs his shirt off and he stands to shove his pants and briefs down his legs so he’s standing naked before you.

“Not really.” You admit with a smirk. “But I wanted to feel sexy.” Your eyes slide up and down his body and you lick your lips. “Fuck, you are handsome.” Reaching behind you, you unclip your bra and toss it down on the floor. “Where’s your bed, handsome? I want you to fuck me in it.”

He reaches for you to drag you against him, his lips pressing to yours as he slides his tongue along your lower lip, loving the way your breasts feel against his chest. His hands slide down to your ass as he guides you to the stairs that lead to the bedrooms in the townhouse. “Upstairs and to the left.” He says when he pulls back, wanting to watch you walk up his stairs.

You smirk over your shoulder, knowing he’s watching you and when you turn back to watch where you are going, you wiggle your ass at him playfully. “Come and get me, g-man.” You tease, starting to rush to get to his bed. This is the most fun you’ve had in a long time.

He growls, gripping the bannister as he makes his way up to his bedroom to find you sprawled out on his bed, a cheeky smirk on your face. He chuckles and strides over to the bed, grabbing your ankle to pull you down to the edge and he leans over you to take your nipple into his mouth, his other hand squeezing your breast.

“Oh fuck, Marcus.” You moan softly, closing your eyes as your fingers dig into his hair. “That feels so good baby.” You whimper. “Bite it.” You don’t mind it being a little rougher and you want to see what this man can do to you.

He follows your demand, biting down on your nipple, his other hand pinching your other nipple and he loves the way you cry out his name. He cups both breasts and alternates his mouth between them, loving the way you throw your head back.

Marcus apparently loves to lavish attention on his partners and you are enjoying it. Your legs pull back, feet propped up on the edge of the bed and you roll your hips up wantonly. “Fuck. Shit, I love having my tits played with.” You admit breathlessly.

He groans and lets go of your nipple, deciding to kiss down your body until he’s kneeling at the foot of the bed, his fingers digging into your thighs as he drags you down until your pussy is in his face. He kisses your inner thigh, loving the way you whine and he chuckles, his hot breath washing over you until he’s sliding his tongue through your folds.

“Yesssss.” You moan, eyes rolling back from the feeling of his tongue carving a path through your core. “God, I-“ his tongue flicks over your clit and your body shivers. “You’re good, Mr. FBI. Fuck, you are goddamn amazing.” You whine, pushing your hips down and begging for more. He’s just as eager to lick your pussy as you had been to suck his cock and your folds are soaked slick with arousal.

He pushes your thighs further back, eyes closed as he flicks his tongue over your clit and groans when your fingers tangle in his hair. He wants to hear you cum. Wants to feel you cum on his tongue so he pushes his tongue deep into your pussy, his nose pressed against your clit.

You keen in pleasure and look down to see him between your thighs. His eyes seem to be smirking when he opens them, well aware of what he is capable of and how he is going to take you apart. Some ego coming out and you find this just as sexy as everything else about this man. “So good, baby.” You praise in pants. “So good, oh fuck!”

Your praise makes his cock harden and he laps at you, shaking his head back and forth as his hands explore your flesh. He laps at your clit and slides one hand up to squeeze your breast, pinching your nipple.

You groan in pleasure and bite your lip. Tugging on his hair sharp enough to make him hiss and it makes him double down on his efforts to make you cum. “Oh fuck, I’m so close.”

He hisses into your flesh as you tug on his hair and he loves it. Groaning, he pinches your nipple again and sucks on your clit, loving the whine you give him in response and he knows you’re so close.

Your core twists in pleasure and you are making these little sounds that come out when you are about to cum. “Marc-“ you gasp out, right before your entire body lurches at the next flick of his tongue. “Marcus!”

He smirks against your flesh at the way you cry his name and he flicks his tongue, working you through it as his hands caress your body, his cock now hard and pressing into the foot of his bed.

You moan, your thighs tightening around his head and you jerk your hips away when it becomes too much. “Fuck- fuck baby, come here.” You beg, desperate to kiss him again.

“Do we, fuck, need a condom?” He asks you, feeling desperate to be inside you. He’s aching again despite you making him cum earlier and he hasn’t felt this passionate during sex for a long time.

Normally you insist on it, but right now the idea of feeling him hot and bare inside you is intoxicating. Not smart considering he’s just out of a relationship with someone who might have been sleeping with someone else. You aren’t thinking about that right now though. “I’m safe.” You promise, reminding yourself to take your birth control in the morning.

He should be sensible but there’s something about you that has him throwing caution to the wind. He nods, trusting you even though he doesn’t know anything about you except how you taste and sound. He grabs you, lifting you up the bed to place your head on his pillows before he kneels between your legs. His cock in his hand as he strokes himself while he looks down at you. “You’re so beautiful.” He murmurs as he shuffles closer to slide his cock through your soaked folds.

“So are you.” You promise, looking up at him and spreading your legs wider. Propping them on his hips as he moves to hover over you. “Fuck me, Marcus.” You beg.

How can he deny you when you beg him? He groans as he notches his cock at your entrance and starts to slowly push into you. Shifting to press his body into you while keeping his weight on his elbows, he hisses when your hot velvet walls engulf him.

His cock feels even better than his tongue. Your head pressed back into the pillow, you moan his name as he breaks you open. Sliding silkily inside you and scrubbing wonderfully against your walls as he bottoms out. “Fuck.” You gasp out. “This cock- fuck, baby, you could win awards with it.”

He blushes as he looks down at you, his lip caught between his teeth until you press your lips to his. “You are - you feel fucking perfect.” He groans against your lips, “so tight.” He moans as he starts to rock his hips, his pace sedate to allow you to get used to him.

“Everyone had to be tight to you.” You huff, turning and kissing along his jaw. “But you’re so deep inside me. Later I want to feel you in my guts.” You whisper and lick his sweat slick skin, tasting the salt there.

He groans as rocks his hips a little harder, pushing deep inside you, and he turns his head to press his lips to yours, his tongue sliding into your mouth and it’s messy but the hottest kiss he’s ever had as you wrap your legs around his hips.

You don’t let him do all the work, rolling your hips up to meet him. Using your legs to push him down into you. Telling him exactly how good it feels every time you whimper and moan into the kiss. He fucks like a god and if it wouldn’t hurt him, you would remind him exactly how stupid this woman is to have left him. Instead, you just try to show him how eager you are for him to be pounding into you.

Marcus groans, rocking into you, and his mind is clouded by you. How you feel. How you sound. How you smell. He’s overwhelmed in the best way and he pulls out of you after a moment, making you whine. He shifts to lay down beside you, dragging your body back against his, and he grabs your leg to lift it over his hip. He grips his cock when your leg is hooked over his and positions himself back at your cunt, pushing into you in one swift movement.

“Fuck.” Your eyes roll back, grabbing onto his arm around you. He’s deeper in his position . He likes to change things up and not just keep to one position. “Marcus.” You reach down and push in on your stomach, feeling him move inside you. “Fuck- that’s- holy shit you’re so deep.” You whimper, loving how the pace has changed, gotten rougher.

He lifts his leg as he thrusts into you, harder and faster than before, his skin slapping against yours and he grabs your leg, wrapping his arm around it to keep it lifted so he can look down and see where he’s disappearing inside your tight cunt. “Feel - feel so good. Taking what I give you.” He grunts, his jaw clenched as he watches his cock push into you.

That cocky confidence he is displaying is fucking sexy. You moan in agreement, panting slightly as he pushes into you again and again. Scrubbing against your walls and making that tension coil inside you and your head rolls back to lean against his shoulder.

He lets go of your leg and slides his hand up to squeeze your breast, pinching your nipple as he rocks into you. You moan and your head lolls against his shoulder as you take his cock, and he knows what you need. He slides his hand down to your clit, rubbing circles there and he chuckles when your walls flutter around him. “That what you needed baby?” He asks, voice rough and raspy.

“Fuck yes.” You roll your hips into his touch and shudder in pleasure. He knows how to touch a woman, apparently aware that not all women cum from just a cock ramming into them. “Fuck, you- you’re gonna make me cum, baby.” You babble. “So good, I’m gonna cum all over you.”

“Do it.” He demands, “I wanna feel it. Wanna hear you.” He rubs your clit a little harder and you whine, arching your back into his chest, and he loves it. “That’s it. Cum for me, baby.” He murmurs, kissing your shoulder.

It doesn’t take many more thrusts for you to do just that. Stiffening in his arms, you cry out his name while your cunt clenches down around him, soaking his cock in your juices. “Marcus! Fuck- fuck baby!”

He groans at how tight you grip him, how wet you are when you gush around him. His chest tightens and he works you through it with a hiss when you squeeze him so tight he can hardly keep moving inside you. “Oh shit.” You pant and he growls, moving again without pulling out of you. He rolls you onto your stomach and straddles your thighs, his hands caressing your ass as he starts to move again.

“Fuck me.” You beg, pushing your ass up as much as you can with him pinning you down. “Destroy me. Fuck, I want to feel how hard you can fuck me.” You beg, wanting him to just lose control and take what he needs from your pussy. “Use me. Fuck, Marcus. Move baby, please, you feel so good.”

Your words make his mind cloud with lust and he responds by slapping your ass. Your squeal makes him grin and he rocks his hips harder than before. His eyes rolling into the back of his head at how tight you are in this position. The headboard bangs against the wall and he grabs your ass cheeks, spreading them to watch how he disappears inside you.

Your whines are getting louder, punched out of you by every thrust of his cock. His grunts behind you are sexy, passionate as he rocks into you and you wish that you could see what he looks like right now. “Fuck- more-“ you whimper, reaching up and grabbing the headboard. “More, baby.”

He grunts, bracing his knees as he fucks you hard and fast. Your ass jiggles with each move and he grabs onto the flesh, keeping him grounded as he fucks into you like it’s the last thing he will do. He wants you to cum again for him before he cums.

The way he spears into you makes you squeal. The angle surprises you into another orgasm that makes your toes curl and you scream his name this time, another torrent of your juices coating him while your walls pulse around him.

You cum so unexpectedly and that makes Marcus groan, working you through it and the room fills with a squelching noise until you are boneless beneath him. He pulls out of you and shifts to lean back against his headboard, “come ride me, baby. Wanna see you.” He demands, slapping his thigh and his cock is dripping with your juices, still hard and almost a violent purple from how pent up he is.

You moan and wrap your hand around that thick cock, twisting around to suck on the tip for a second and not caring about your juices on him. Marcus groans your name and you quickly shift to straddle his thighs and lean forward to sink down onto his cock. “This what you need, baby?” You coo breathlessly. “You need to see my tits bounce while I ride your cock?”

He nods, reaching out to cup your tits, and he leans in to take a nipple into his mouth. He groans when you start to rock on top of him and he loves it. You’re so beautiful and he can’t believe you came home with him.

Your arms are around his shoulder, holding him to your breast as you rock on top of him. Grinding his cock deep inside you and then pulling off to bounce back down on it. It’s perfect and sexy, wonderful and erotic all at the same time as your finger curl into his hair and you tug on it. “Yes baby, fuck, suck on my tits while I ride this amazing cock.”

He bites down on your nipple, making you squeal, and he chuckles against your flesh as you rock on top of him. He only had a few beers but he feels drunk on you, on your perfume, on your pussy. He hisses when you tuck his hair and pull his head back so you can press your lips to his.

This kiss is sloppier, wetter than before. Hungry for each other as you kiss. His arms wind around you and pull tight, wanting you close and you can’t believe that woman gave up this man for anyone. Your walls are pulsing around him and you purposely squeeze him tighter as you ride him.

He groans into your mouth, cupping the back of your neck while his other hand slides down to squeeze your ass cheek. "You got one more for me?" He asks, sliding his hand around to rub your clit, wanting to watch you cum.

“God- you’re - insatiable.” You pant into his mouth, eyes rolling back when he rubs just right against the bundle of nerves and his happy trail is grinding against your lips. “Fuck- I’m gonna keep you.” You giggle, tightening up in his arms as another wave of pleasure threatens to wash over you again.

Secretly he hopes you'll agree to a date when you wake up in the morning and he continues to rub your clit. It doesn't take long for you to fall apart for him again, collapsing into his chest and he groans. He wraps his arms around your body, allowing himself to let go as he thrusts up into you, his cock twitching violently inside you as he gets closer.

“Cum for me.” You pant into his neck, kissing his pulse and then up his jaw. “Cum for me. I want to see it. You’re so fucking gorgeous when you cum.” You’ve only seen it once when he was cumming down your throat, but you want to see him in all his orgasmic glory as he fills you up. Your teeth nip his jaw. “Cum, baby.”

He groans, eyes squeezing shut as he follows your order and fills you up. He hisses as he pushes deep into you and starts to paint your walls with his hot seed. Your name choked out as he twitches and his fingers dig into your flesh.

You pet and coo at him as he rides out his orgasm. Watching his face twist in pleasure, you plant kiss after kiss on his lips. He deserves it for making you cum three times. “You’re so good Marcus.” You moan softly.

He calms down but his heart is still racing as you caress his cheek and he slides his hands along your back. "Jesus." He murmurs, unable to remember the last time he had sex like that. You brought something out of him he's never experienced before. "You are incredible." He murmurs, kissing you softly.

“Me?” You scoff quietly and grin against his lips. “I don’t know if I’ve ever cum three times before.” You admit, kissing him again. “Ten out of ten, would recommend this ride.” You tease and playfully clench down around his softening cock still inside you.

He smiles and nudges his nose against yours. “You hungry?” He asks, “I can order a pizza or order you an Uber. Whatever you want to do. You can go or you can stay.” He offers, wanting to be considerate to you.

“Perfect.” You moan, rolling your eyes. “You’re fucking perfect. Now I need to see your closet for those dead bodies.” You joke, winking at him playfully.

He chuckles, "go check. I'll order the pizza and get you the wine we left downstairs." He says as he pulls a pair of briefs from his dresser and makes his way downstairs to find his phone and allow you a moment.

You left your panties downstairs so you walk into the bathroom to use it. His house is stylish and tastefully done, although it is masculine. He really is a wonderful catch.

He orders the pizza on his phone and he realizes your clothes are downstairs so he takes them upstairs to you. “You can borrow one of my shirts if you want.” He says, knowing that your dress is pretty but not that comfortable for laying around in.

“Do you mind?” You don’t wait for an answer, just opening his closet and you chuckle when you see boxes still needing to be unpacked. “I’m going to borrow this!” You tell him, bringing out a large, comfortable looking sweater.

He nods and pulls on a pair of sleep pants and he hands you your glass of wine from earlier. He slides onto the bed and watches as you tuck your legs under you after you put his sweater on.

“So how are you feeling now?” You ask curiously, watching as he leans back and you notice the book he has sitting on the nightstand on presumably his side of the bed.

“I feel…good. Not totally over all the shit I’ve been through but you definitely helped.” He offers you a smile and you chuckle, “a good orgasm definitely helps.” He smirks and takes a sip of wine, “how was it?” He asks, biting his lip, and he’s a little curious because he just got dumped for another man.

Normally, a man wanting you to rate his performance would annoy you, most just wanting the praise. This man wants to know that he’s not lacking. “She’s fucking crazy.” You shake your head. “You are charming, sweet, handsome and fuck like that?” You snort. “She should have been running to Vegas to put a ring on it, baby. That was-“ you hum. “I’m going to feel you tomorrow and even when the ache disappears, it’s gonna be a long goddamn time before I forget tonight.”

His answering grin makes you giggle and he’s relieved that you think he did a good job. It’s obvious that you aren’t lying and he smirks to himself a moment later, “I’m glad you enjoyed it. I definitely did. You- you’re gorgeous.” He compliments you, “and I’m lucky you came home with me.”

“I’m lucky you asked.” You admit with a small shrug and a smug smile. “I was going to have a couple of glasses of wine and probably go home to use my vibrator.” You wiggle your toes and stretch. “This was much better. And now I even get pizza.”

He chuckles and checks his phone for where the pizza is. “It’s on its way.” He promises and reaches for the Tv remote, “I’ve been watching this series…Narcos? Have you heard of it?” He asks, curious if you want to chill and watch TV with him instead of rushing off.

Your grin is wide and you nod. “Yeah, I fucking love it.” Your brows pinch together and you tilt your head as you examine him again. “You know….you kind of look like him.” You tell him as he pulls up the show. “The guy who plays Peña. Hair’s darker, and he has that porn star mustache, but you could be his brother.”

Marcus scoffs, "even I can tell he's hotter than me. Maybe I could grow a mustache." He teases, rubbing his chin, then he works on getting the show on the TV he installed in his bedroom.

“I don’t know…..” you set your wine glass down and straddle his thighs and run your hands down his chest. “He’s an actor, playing a DEA agent.” You lean in and kiss his jaw. “You’re a real FBI agent.” Your hand slides down to cup his soft cock. “And I bet your cock is better.”

He groans, turning his head to kiss your lips. He cups your cheek while one hand slides down to squeeze your ass through his sweater. “Where have you been my whole life?” He asks, “you’re so amazing.” He kisses you again, unable to believe how good this feels when you met in a bar hours ago.

You hum, leaning into the kiss and you would deepen it if it weren’t for the doorbell ringing downstairs. “Oops.” You giggle, kissing him one last time before climbing off of him to let him go get the pizza. “Do you eat in bed, or should we go downstairs?”

“Fuck it. Let’s eat in bed. You stay here and I’ll go get it.” He says, pecking your lips before bouncing off the bed and down the stairs to get the pizza. He’s back moments later with plates and paper towel, setting the pizza down on the comforter. “So, now are you gonna tell me how you’re single?” He asks once you’ve gotten a slice.

“It’s not a very interesting story.” You warn him before you take a bite of your pizza. “My last boyfriend cheated on me, I dumped his ass and decided to say fuck it, I would stay single for awhile.” You roll your eyes. “My friends keep trying to get me to go to some online dating site, but I don’t like those things, it’s so impersonal.”

He nods in agreement after taking a bite of pizza, “you can’t tell chemistry through an app.” He says and shakes his head, “your ex is a fucking idiot. I hate cheaters. Just have the balls to tell someone you don’t want to be with them instead of cheating and lying behind their back.”

“Thank you.” You roll your eyes and huff. “How is that so hard? I find people attractive all the time, but I don’t have to sleep with them.” You take another bite of your pizza and smirk. “Unless his name is Marcus Pike. I think I’ll name you my Hall Pass.” You tease and shoot him a wink.

He blushes, loving how you have enjoyed your time with him, and he swallows his bite. “Do you want to go on a date with me? Like, dinner?” He asks, flustered but eager to spend more time with you.

Your brow lifts and part of you wonders if this might be a bad idea. He’s rebounding, you should encourage him to be by himself for a bit. But you honestly like him. “That sounds like a hard thing to do.” You admit, taking another bite of your pizza and talking around it. “How the hell are you going to top eating pizza in bed on a dinner date?”

Marcus chuckles, “you’d be surprised. I can be pretty damn inventive.” He promises, reminded of all the first dates he's been on including those with his first wife and Teresa. “Is that a yes?” He asks, biting his lip in anticipation.

“That’s a yes.” You agree, enjoying the boyish grin that lights up his face when you say you will go out with him.

Marcus grins, “it’s a date.” He declares then takes another bite of his pizza while Narcos plays in the background. After Teresa left him high and dry, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever feel confident in himself but you’ve given him so much tonight. He’s excited to take you out. After you finish eating, he takes the plates and box down to the kitchen and offers you a new toothbrush. “I always keep spares. For me.” He clarifies, not wanting you to think he hooks up with a lot of people.

“Very responsible.” You tease, leaning in and giving him a kiss. “I have about ten under my own sink. Buy them on sale and then I’ve got them to change out and if someone crashes.” You shrug. “My friends. Not hookups. Did you know you are actually supposed to change your toothbrush out every six months? I change mine every three.”

Marcus shakes his head, “I gotta be honest, I just change it when it looks like it needs to be changed.” He confesses with a slight blush and opens his bathroom door. You both brush your teeth in silence, watching each other in the mirror and to Marcus, it’s crazy how easy this feels. He washes his face and leaves you to finish up while he prepares the bed. He has one single decorative pillow that came with the set so he tosses that onto the chair in the corner. When you appear, he pulls the duvet back and pats the space next to him. “Come on.” He orders playfully and he leans over to turn off the lamp when you’re under the sheets. He sighs and shuffles closer when he’s in bed, holding his arm open in a silent invitation and he smiles when you snuggle into his side. “Goodnight sweetheart.” He murmurs, kissing your hair and you smile against his chest, “night, handsome.” He falls asleep with a smile on his face. Maybe things happen for a reason.

****

Checking the time on your phone, you sigh. The morning had been rushed, both of you oversleeping and you had decided to just meet at the bar tonight for your date. You don’t even have his number but maybe that’s a good thing. You’ve been stood up. Finishing the rest of your wine, you stand up and sign the bill before sticking your credit card back in your purse. Marcus Pike had apparently changed his mind about dinner and right now, you don’t know if you’re angry or hurt. All you know is that you are going home.

To say he’s frustrated is an understatement. Marcus went into work with the biggest smile on his face, eager to see you back at the bar, when he was called in and told he’s going undercover. “You’re the only person who knows this kind of network.” His boss had told him about the artwork the mafia was transporting. “The assignment will be for as long as it takes. They have been using the artwork as a cover for drugs and arms. We need to find out the source. You’ll go dark until you uncover it all.” He orders and Marcus frowns, “when am I going in?” He asks, thinking he will be told a few days but he hears, “you’ll be taken to a briefing room and given all the details and then you’re in.” Marcus shakes his head, “but I have plans tonight.” His boss says, “cancel them. From now on, you’re Mario Russell.” Marcus swallows harshly, cursing himself for not getting your number so he can message you. He doesn’t know how long he will be undercover. He’s missing his chance with you and there’s nothing he can do.

Sighing to yourself, you hate that you are still out. Wanting nothing more than to be home in the rapidly too small apartment in comfortable clothes and not wearing a bra, you push the shopping cart through the store and groan at the smell coming from the deli. You need the hot wings, even though you will pay for them later.

Marcus feels like everything is a blur as he’s given the details on his assignment, handed his new paperwork and license and memorized everything about the man he is pretending to be. It’s been a whirlwind and he’s sitting in a van, waiting to meet the man who will employ him to assist with transporting the artwork illegally. His contact, a fellow undercover op, is making the introduction and Marcus can only think about you. He hopes you don’t hate him for not showing up. He was allowed to go home for an hour to sort his place out for his departure and he had swung by the bar to leave a note for you with an explanation. He hopes you got it.

****

“Hi, uh, I’m sorry.” It’s been two months since you’ve heard from Marcus and you need to talk to him. You’ve gone to his townhouse, but he’s not home and you’ve left notes. Now you are pretty desperate and thought it would be a good idea to call the FBI. It wasn’t, but you need to talk to him. “I’m looking to talk to an Agent Marcus Pike.” You are nervous, but you manage to keep your voice steady. “In the art? Department? Art crimes? Art something?” You sound like an idiot, but you don’t have much more to give the operator that answered.

“I’ll put you through to someone who can help you.” She says and the phone beeps before music plays while you’re redirected. “Art Crime Division.” The receptionist answers and you gasp, “yes. Hi. I need to speak with Agent Marcus Pike.” You say and she looks through her notes to show Marcus is out of office. “He’s not in office at the moment. Can I take a message?”

You sigh, closing your eyes and nearly about to cry. “Yeah uh, if you could have him call me.” You give the receptionist your name and telephone number. “It’s really important.” You stress.

“Sure. I’ll leave a note for him to call you.” She takes your name and number and hangs up, looking over at the empty office for Agent Pike. The office that has been empty for 2 months.

More time passes. You had left one more message before you had given up. They wouldn’t tell you anything when you called the second time too, just that they would pass the message and you got the hint. It hurt, but you had known that it should have just been a one time thing when you went home with him.

Marcus sighs as he sits in the van. Another exchange. Another night he pretends to be someone he’s not. The target believes he is who he says he is. There’s no risk of exposure, but he’s growing tired of being undercover. It’s been 4 months and his beard is itching. His eyes widen when he gets out of the van after the truck shows up and the man he is looking for arrives. “I want the money first.” He demands and Marcus presses the phone in his pocket, calling his pre-programmed number to bring in backup. The asshole boss that’s put Marcus through the wringer argues about the money for several moments until cars screech into the parking lot. Marcus had managed to get a message back to the office that he was potentially meeting the target and his backup has arrived. The target tries to run but he’s caught and Marcus holds his hands up, acting pissed that he’s getting arrested even though he will be released as soon as he’s away from the scene. He looks over at the assholes in handcuffs and realizes it’s over. Finally, he can go home.

Life has gone on, you are touring new apartments, trying to forget why you need that extra space but it’s hard when you are showing now. That one night with Marcus had resulted in a very unexpected pregnancy and you haven’t heard from him. You stroke your stomach as you look around the apartment you were viewing. It’s a good size but it’s in a horrible neighborhood and it’s just outside of your budget. “No, I’m sorry.” You shake your head and give an apologetic smile. “This isn’t the one for me.” You explain to the agent.

It’s difficult for Marcus to return back to reality. He went back to Texas to see his family and give his final report and that’s when he saw Teresa and Jane. He got closure knowing that he deserved better and he’s glad she didn’t come to D.C. The night he met you - God he still thinks about it - put everything into perspective and he realized he was never friends with Teresa, he never truly knew her. Returning to D.C, he settles back into his home and the first night back, he remembers the note he left behind the bar with his number. You never called him. His phone was given back and he didn’t have any missed calls from an unknown number apart from spam calls that went straight to the tone when he called them back hoping it was you. He doesn’t allow himself to dwell on things. It wasn’t meant to be. Maybe he will see you again one day. Just as he has that thought, his doorbell rings and he frowns, making his way to the front door to see who it is.

Standing on his doorstep is probably stupid, but you had driven by the townhouse you had spent the night in months ago. Honestly still a little jealous of the room and the potential for a family when you are struggling to find a place so that your baby doesn’t have a closet for a nursery. You had seen the lights on and now you are angry. Angry that he’s been ignoring your messages and leaving you to deal with this. He doesn’t owe you anything, but it would be fucking nice if the father of your baby knew you are pregnant.

Marcus opens the front door and his jaw drops when he sees you standing there. “Oh my God. It’s you. I- holy shit.” His grin is wide, so happy that you came back and he’s so excited to see you until his eyes drop down and they widen at the sight of your belly. “Holy shit.” He repeats with a gasp.

You snort, thrown off guard by his unbridled happiness at seeing you until the shock of your belly breaks through that grin. “Surprise.” You manage to keep the sarcasm out of your tone, but just barely.

He is shocked but he knows you wouldn’t be standing on his doorstep if it wasn’t his baby. He only knew you for one night but he didn’t get the sense that you’re the kind of woman to pass off another man’s baby as his. “You’re pregnant.” He chokes and his eyes drift up to find yours again. “I- shit- why - how - I left a note at the bar for you.” He spits out, his head whirling.

“I didn’t get it.” You don’t know if that’s a cover, but you hadn’t gotten the sense that Marcus Pike lies a lot. It was why you had been so upset. “Um- I- this was a bad idea.” You admit with a sigh. “I was all prepared to rip you a new asshole and it seems like whatever happened, you didn’t get my messages.”

He shakes his head and reaches for you before he thinks better of it and lowers his hand. “You’ve been trying to reach me?” He asks and you nod. He curses under his breath, “I know you won’t believe me but I’ve been undercover. I- shit. I didn’t even have my phone. I was involved with the mafia so I went dark.”

“Undercover…..” His hair is longer and there is some scruff on his cheeks that wasn’t there when he had taken you home. “For nearly six months?”

He nods, “bastards were tricky to lock down and we couldn’t afford to risk going too early and the whole op was ruined. I- I’m so sorry. I just got back. Today. They arrested them in the early hours.” He confesses and his eyes drop down to your stomach again, “and I - wow. You really have that glow.”

“Look- I don’t-“ you sigh softly, at a loss for what to do now. “Can I come in and we talk?” You ask, feeling a little vulnerable out here on his front step. “Unless…”

He shakes his head, "come in." He steps aside and you walk past him while he shuts the door behind you. His heart is pounding and he can't believe this is happening but he's not upset. Freaking out but not angry. "You must hate me. Thinking I got you pregnant and ghosted. You, uh, want some water?" He asks, wanting a whiskey but that would be rude.

“Sure.” You huff out a small laugh. “I would really love a drink, but that isn’t possible right now.” Your hand rests on your little bump. “Although you look like you need one.” You admit as you follow him into the townhouse. “So- uh, the baby is yours. If you want, we can do an in utero paternity test in about three weeks.” You offer. You don’t expect him to just accept your word for this. “And I’m sorry, I guess that two percent caught us with our pants down. Literally.” You snort.

Marcus shakes his head, “this isn’t your fault. I know - we were both there and I said it was okay. Accidents happen and we are both adults. You’re six months along. Did you - did you consider…?” He doesn’t know how to word it without it sounding like he wishes you had gotten an abortion but he wonders why you kept a baby you conceived with a virtual stranger.

“No.” You shake your head and swallow harshly. “I’m, uh- I’ve been told since I was younger that my chances to have a baby were going to be slim.” You shrug and rub your hand over your stomach again. “I couldn’t imagine terminating. Even if it’s not the best case scenario.” You look up at him, “and if you don’t want to be involved, I’m not going to expect anything. I just….wanted you to know.”

He nods in understanding and your face falls, “I want to be involved. This is our child. I’m so sorry I haven’t been here but I’m here now and I’m going to be their father. We can figure everything out.” He promises as he pours two glasses of water and hands one to you. “Have you got everything you need? I want to pay for it. Crib. Stroller. It’s - I have missed so much already.”

You shake your head. “Right now, I’m just having a hard time finding an apartment.” You admit. “The market sucks and I live in a one bedroom that is tiny.” You take a sip of the water.

Marcus frowns, not liking that. “Move in here.” He offers after a moment, not wanting you to have his child living in a one bed or something in a shitty area. He’d never forgive himself and he can’t allow it when he has a perfect home for a child.

You hadn’t come here to beg for a place to live. “Marcus, I can’t do that.” Your eyes widen and you hate yourself for immediately loving the idea. “This is your house.” You remind him. “You don’t want that, you barely know me.”

“It’s my house and it’s too big for just me. I know we barely know each other but I want to change that. I want to be there for our child. Please. Let me - let me be there now. Move in. You can have a room and we can decorate a nursery.”

You shouldn't, you feel like you are taking advantage of him. Biting your lip, you know that this is the best option that you have right now. There is nothing out there that is safe and affordable for you to have your baby live. Plus, it would give Marcus a chance to bond with the baby you will share. "I'll pay rent." You tell him. "That's not up for debate. I won't live off you."

Marcus sighs but nods, knowing he will put the money in an account for the baby. “Do you…did you find out the gender?” He asks, curious because he wants to know how you can decorate the nursery. You don’t have a lot of time to get everything ready.

"My appointment is tomorrow." You admit softly. Glancing at him and seeing the way he keeps looking at your stomach with the gentlest yearning. "Do you want to come? If you can't- I know it's last minute."

He nods without taking a moment to think about it. “I have a couple of weeks off to process after being undercover. They don’t want me back in the office yet so I’m free.” He promises and he can’t believe this is happening but he can’t deny that he’s always wanted to be a dad.

"Okay." You nod. "My appointment is in the morning. They are doing the ultrasound, so I was hoping that I would find out if it's a little boy or a little girl." You bite your lip. "Do you have any preference? Not that it matters, we are going to get what we get."

He shrugs, “I don’t care. As long as they are healthy and safe. I never - I always wanted a child and I can’t believe it’s finally happening.” He confesses and offers you a soft smile. “When does the lease on your place end? We can get your things tomorrow after the appointment if you are ready to move.”

You laugh softly. “I’m month to month.” You admit with a shrug. “I don’t want to put you out though. Do you have furniture in the other rooms? I can pay to store it.” You offer

“Don’t be silly. We can move some things around. I, uh, haven’t really had a chance to furnish everything fully except the living room and my bedroom, a basic guest bed, since I moved in. Don’t really get time to go furniture shopping. Let me organize some movers and we can get your things moved in.” He says, reaching for his phone to start researching. “Just so you know, I don’t have any genetic issues in my family that I know of. We are all pretty healthy.” He says, knowing you have no idea about who he is apart from one night.

“My apartment was furnished.” You sigh softly and shrug. “I just have personal things. So I can buy some furniture.” You smile. “I’ve been saving for all of that, and outfitting a nursery.”

“I planned on a guest bedroom set up, so you don’t need to buy bedroom furniture and for the nursery…I want to buy that.” He says, “let me do something since I haven’t been here for six months.” He pleads softly, “I want to do right by you and our baby.”

You can’t deny him when he is begging to be involved. “If you want, why don’t we go shopping together after the appointment?” You offer quietly. “I took the rest of the day off of work to look at apartments, but I guess I don’t need to now.”

“Good. Yeah. Let’s do that.” He grins and looks back at his phone, “I’ll find a mover that can help us and get you in here.” He smiles, heart thumping, and he’s nervous but the shock is receding. “You hungry?” He asks, knowing he could eat and he wants to care for you.

“I’m always hungry now.” You admit with a small grin. “Can you tell me about your time undercover?” You ask. “I had called and left messages at your office. I thought-“ you shrug. “I just thought you were blowing me off.”

He shakes his head and leans against the counter, “I promise you this isn’t an excuse. I can get my boss to vouch for me. I am newer so I was the only guy for the job as the mafia bosses know our team pretty well here in D.C. they were smuggling painting - rare paintings - out the country stolen from private homes and concealing drugs and guns so I had to go undercover to get involved, figure out their suppliers. The shipment pattern. How they evaded the law. It was…intense. I didn’t hear my real name until I got back to the Hoover building.”

“I believe you.” You admit. He has no reason to lie, he has no reason to do anything for you. Yet he is moving you in and wanting to take responsibility for the child you created together. “I’m not ready to throw something at you anymore.”

Marcus offers you a soft smile, "good. I, uh, I just got back so I don't have any groceries. We can pick up some things tomorrow when we are out. For now, I can order something. You want Chinese food?" He asks, his stomach growling. You groan and he chuckles, handing you his phone, "pick what you want, sweetheart."

You open the app and quickly pick out a meal and hand his phone back to him. “So I guess this isn’t the night that you had expected to have.” You joke. “Welcome home, daddy.”

His stomach twists at hearing that but not in disgust, in excitement. He quickly picks his usual and adds some appetizers before hitting ‘order’. He leans against the counter, "I always dreamed of being a daddy." He confesses and you smirk, making him chuckle, "not like that. I just - most guys want to play the field. Sleep with as many women as possible. I always imagined a family. Settling down."

“And how will your parents feel about you having a child under these circumstances?” You ask, curious about how he had grown up, the relationship he has with his parents. Your own have never seemed to have much of an interest in you. They were just self absorbed and rarely reached out.

Marcus sighs, "they will be surprised but they will support us. They live back in Texas. My dad owns a ranch and always wanted tons of grandkids running around it over the summer. They will be happy to have a grandchild." He nods, "and my mom...she hated my ex. Wanted her head on a spike when she dumped me. She just wants me to be happy and this - this has made me happy."

“You’re happy?” You are pleased to hear it, and grateful. “That’s good to know.” You admit, winching when the baby kicks you. “Quick, give me your hand.” You grab Marcus’s hand and put it over the spot so he can feel the baby. “You feel that?”

His eyes widen as he feels the baby kick against his hand, "oh my God." He chokes, "our baby." He stares at your stomach and his eyes flick up to yours, a grin slowly appearing on his face.

“Our baby.” You murmur, finding him so handsome as he lights up with joy. He really is a good man. “Feeling like they are doing summersaults inside me.” You joke. “And I have to pee all the time.”

He chuckles and caresses your stomach before he pulls his hand away, knowing you probably don't want him touching you for too long. "Don't worry. I am here now for all things baby related." He promises and you nod. The food arrives after you and Marcus settle on his sofa and he asks you about your family.

You shrug. “I’m not close to my parents.” You admit. “They didn’t seem like they wanted kids when I was growing up and after I moved out, I’m like an afterthought.”

Marcus frowns, “I’m sorry. That - some people aren’t built to be parents but I want us to be there for our baby. I’m all in.” He promises as he uses his chopsticks to pick up some noodles.

“It’s their loss.” You have dealt with things as best you could and therapy helps. “I want to be the mom I always wished I had growing up.” Your hand drifts over your stomach again. “And I’m happy you want to be a part of their life.”

He’s pleased to hear you say that. It’s obvious you’ve thought a lot about this baby and he’s glad you’re not just jumping in without thought. He is right now but he knows he will lose sleep tonight going through every scenario. “I’ll be here no matter what.” He promises with a soft smile.

You smile, although you know that he might change his mind. This isn’t fair to either of you and you are practically strangers. “How do you want to raise your children?” You ask curiously. “Are you religious?”

Marcus shakes his head, “not really. I was raised in a Catholic family but my parents never enforced it. I- I believe in God but I wouldn’t force my child to believe unless that’s what they felt they wanted. It’s their decision to be involved in religion. Not my place to force them.” He decides, knowing he thought about this a lot when he worked on a case a few years ago that involved a family who got sucked into a cult.

“Progressive.” You hum in approval. “I like that. I have been studying a lot of different religions, I like to learn about them.” You shrug slightly. “It was never a very big thing in my house, I don’t even know what my parents were.”

He reaches for an egg roll and nods, “so we are on the same page there.” He smiles then takes a bite of the egg roll after dipping it. “So are you- have you seen anyone since you-?” It’s a hard subject to broach but he wants to know what to expect.

“No.” You shake your head. “I felt kind of weird about that.” You admit, taking a bite of your food. “Plus, I never realized how many men had some kind of pregnancy fetish.” You snort. “I’ve been hit on so much since I started showing, but I’ve avoided that.”

Marcus raises his eyebrows, surprised but not entirely at that. You are a gorgeous woman and you are glowing. He has to admit his cock has twitched looking at you in his home. "Me neither. Obviously. I don't - there's no thought about dating. My priority is you and the baby." He promises, not wanting you to think he's going to go out and hook up.

“I don’t expect you to do that.” You protest. “You - I know that this is crazy, but I don’t want you to feel like you owe me anything.” He hadn’t mentioned trying a relationship with you, so you won’t ask for that. Perhaps being co-parents is the best thing.

"I owe you so much." He argues, "I have been missing for six months. I've missed so much and I want to be the best father I can be. I don't need to complicate things by getting into a relationship." He doesn't mention that he still finds you insanely attractive and he isn't sure he can find anyone to match you if he tried.

“Okay, but if you meet your perfect girl, I don’t want you missing the opportunity because of me.” You tell him. “I know how much you’ve been hurt in the past.”

He sighs but doesn't argue any further and he watches you continue eating. You seem to be starving and that makes him frown, wondering if you've been eating enough. "You want to head home or we can go get your things now?" He asks, wanting to see the place you've been living.

“Um-“ you finish your last egg roll with a sigh of happiness. “I guess we could do that.” You make a face. “I have to warn you, it’s a small, dumpy little place. I was saving money to buy a place but then the market went insane.”

Marcus shrugs, trying to act nonchalant and he smiles at you, "don't worry. You won't be there for much longer." He promises and you offer him a smile that makes his stomach twist. After clearing up the food, Marcus drives over to your place, his eyes widen at the shitty neighborhood you live in. He's heard about so many murders and crimes here from his colleagues.

“Yeah.” You huff out an embarrassed laugh when you see his face. “Now you know why I was looking really hard. I’ve not had problems here, thank God, but I wanted somewhere safer for the baby.”

“Yeah.” He nods, “not the best place for a kid.” He admits and he’s heard horror stories. He had spoken with locals about trying to open an activity center but his idea fell flat to the people in charge who don’t give a fuck. When you’re inside your apartment, Marcus frowns even more at how little you have. “Get what you need.” He orders, looking up at the mold by the window and he twists his lips as he places his hands on his hips.

“I haven’t bought much.” You snort, trying to look at this through his eyes. “But I have a lot of money saved up.” You promise, hoping he doesn’t view you as a charity case. “I was hoping to buy everything new when I found a house.” Getting your clothes together takes some time and you ask Marcus to pack up the few kitchen items that are obviously yours from their better condition.

Marcus watches you for a moment before he works on packing up your kitchen items. Most of this can be taken back in his car and he is eager to get you away from this place despite knowing your circumstances.

You stuff your clothes into your luggage, figuring that was the most practical thing and it was a good thing you had a few boxes already to put your toiletries and extra in. Figuring you can just bring the toilet paper over. Now that things are decided, it looks like you won’t spend another night here, which might be a good thing. “I think that I’m mostly packed. I just need to come back tomorrow for the small things, and clean.”

Marcus shakes his head, "I have a friend who owns a cleaning business. We will get her in here and you can relax. You need to put the baby first, sweetheart." He says, knowing it's not good to be around the chemicals, "I'll pay for it." He says without allowing you to argue as he carries your things to his car to load it up.

“I have a feeling this is going to be a regular thing, isn’t it?” You snort, even though you have to admit that it feels wonderful to have someone care about your wellbeing enough to go out of their way for you. “You wanting to pay for everything?”

Marcus nods, a soft smile on his face, "better get used to it, baby. You are carrying our baby. You are gonna be a princess." He promises with a wink and he carries your suitcase downstairs to his car. It doesn't take long to get most of your things in his car and he watches as you lock up and make your way down the stairs to leave your building.

You can feel Marcus hovering behind you, watching to make sure that you don’t fall. It’s sweet and you chuckle quietly when he gets you bundled into the car. “This was not the way I expected the night to go.” You admit with a small sigh as he pulls away.

He slides into the driver's seat after shutting your door, and he frowns, "what did you expect?" He asks, curious about what you thought would happen when you arrived at his home.

“I honestly didn’t expect to see anyone here.” You admit. “I had dropped by a couple of times, but when I saw the lights on, I wasn’t sure what would happen. I was kind of mad until I saw your surprise and happiness when you saw me.”

He nods and sighs, "I never - I wanted to see you again." He promises as he starts the car, "but I got dragged into the op and I barely had time to tell my parents but I put a note behind the bar. I wish you had gotten it." He shakes his head as he puts the car in drive and makes his way through the neighborhood.

“I showed up that night.” You tell him. “I think there might have been some issue with the servers or bartenders or something.” You shrug. “It is in the past. It’s not like you could have contacted me while you were undercover anyway.”

He nods, "yeah, but you would've known that I didn't stand you up." He says and navigates the roads back to his townhouse. "It's been - this year has been a whirlwind for me." He admits with a huff and a shake of his head.

“Engaged, moving to a different state, engagement broken, having an amazing one night stand, going undercover, coming back and finding out you’re having a kid with said one night stand?” You laugh. “Yeah you’ve been having a year.”

"And you. Home shopping in a shit market. Knocked up by a one night stand who ghosted you and left you on your own until he was home one day. I can't even imagine what went through your head when you took the test." He confesses, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel.

“I was shocked.” You admit with a small snort. “I didn’t think I would ever have kids, but I was on birth control to try to help the horrible periods I have with PCOS.” You explain, knowing he will know more about your health than he probably will want to in the coming months. “And we still managed to create this little one.” You look over at him. “Do you want the paternity test now or when the baby is born?” You ask. “I think we should, just so there will never be any question.”

“I don’t need one. I was there. I know what we did and I am a good judge of character after my job description. I feel like I’d know if you’re lying but if you want to do it just in case, that’s fine with me.” He promises, knowing that he won’t deny that he still has a small inkling of doubt but he is pragmatic and knows that it’s highly likely this is his child.

“I want it.” You nod. “I have nothing to hide and would rather everyone know that.” Your worst nightmare would be for his parents to doubt that your child was Marcus’s. “I appreciate your trust in me though.”

“It’s gotten me in trouble before…how trusting I am.” He confesses with a sigh as he pulls onto his street and he turns to look at you, unable to deny how beautiful you are. “You really have that pregnancy glow.” He compliments you.

“Thank you.” You smile and reach out to touch his thigh. “I promise that you won’t ever have any reason to be burned by trusting me.” You promise. “And if for some reason, you feel that changes, talk to me.”

He offers you a smile and pulls up outside his townhouse. “Take my keys and get settled. Alarm code is 1975 and I’ll get started on bringing your things in and up to your room.” He says, reaching for your hand to squeeze it until he lets go.

“Thank you Marcus.” You murmur softly. “I know you don’t have to do this, but I do appreciate it.”

He puts the car in park and turns off the engine, watching you get out of the car and make your way up the few steps to the front door with his door key. He will have to get you a key from the spares he has. He grunts as he gets out and starts carrying your things into his home, now your home.

****

The nurse calls out your name and you tap Marcus’s arm. “That’s us.” You grunt, pushing out of your chair and he quickly scrambles to his feet after you. He's been jittery and nervous all morning and you hope it’s excitement and not regret. “Now, I’m trusting you not to go blabbing my weight.” You huff playfully as you follow the nurse to the little area where she will take your weight and blood pressure. “I am growing a kid.”

The nurse chuckles as Marcus averts his eyes to be polite as she weighs you. “It’s our secret.” She winks, “and hopefully daddy is keeping baby fed.” She looks at Marcus and he smiles, his chest tightening as he hears the title for the first time from someone else. “He’s feeding me up.” You wink at Marcus and he chuckles as you step off the scales and the nurse starts to check your blood pressure.

After the test is done, she guides you into a private room. “Gown is on the table.” She knows you are aware of the routine. “The doctor wants to check your cervix, so panties off.” She reminds you and closes the door. “Uh-“ you look over your shoulder at Marcus. “You don’t have to cover your eyes. It’s not like you haven’t seen it all before. It’s just a lot bigger in the middle now.”

He nods, nervous and he wipes his hands on his pants as he sits down on the plastic chair and he bites his lip while you take your shirt off. He looks over at the stock photo of the Washington Monument as you undress, wanting to be considerate.

You glance back at him and giggle slightly, amused and touched by his consideration. “Do you want to be in the delivery room?” You ask, wondering his thoughts on that. Maybe he wouldn’t want to be present, but you want to ask.

He nods, “absolutely. If you want me there.” He adds, not wanting to assume that you want him in the room. “It’s our baby. I want to be there with you and be there for the moment they come into the world.”

“I don’t mind you being there.” You promise, stripping down and slipping the gown on with the opening to the front and climbing up on the table to spread the little paper blanket over your lap. “It’s safe to stop staring at the poster now.” You tease.

He turns his head and blushes slightly at all the posters and diagrams of the female body. He’s not prudish but this is outside of his comfort zone, especially when he’s here as the father. The doctor comes in with a smile, “hello mama. How are we doing?” She asks, reaching for the rubber gloves from the box on the wall.

“Feeling like I have to pee every thirty seconds.” You admit with a laugh. The doctor had stressed how important it was to be hydrated and you started carrying a water bottle around with you at all times. “This is Marcus.” You introduce him to the doctor. “He’s, uh, the father.”

Her eyes widen before she composes herself. Marcus shifts, rubbing his hands on his pants, “I, uh, I’ve been out of town for months and I just found out so, uh, yeah. Making up for missed time.” He chuckles awkwardly, watching as the doctor touches your bump over the gown.

“Any spotting?” The doctor asks. “Even after intercourse?” You shake your head. “No.” It’s easier to just say no than to explain you haven’t slept with Marcus again. She hums and nods as the nurse takes notes. “Ohh they are active.” She chuckles when the baby kicks against her hand. “Well, are we ready to see if we can determine if you have a little boy or girl?” She asks, looking between you and Marcus. “Oh yes. I want him to hear the heartbeat too.” You had cried the first time you heard it and you want Marcus to be able to experience that as well.

Marcus is anxious and nervous as he sits, waiting as the doctor opens your gown and he swallows harshly at the sight of your bump. He wants to touch it without the barrier of clothing but he knows that’s inappropriate. He averts his eyes again when the doctor puts your legs up so she can inspect your cervix and he only looks when the doctor chuckles and says “I’m sure you’ve seen it before, daddy.” The doctor grabs the ultrasound wand and you look over at Marcus, holding your hand out, “come here, daddy.” You tease and he stands up, shifting closer to you and his heart thumps as he waits to hear the heartbeat for the first time.

You don’t look at the screen this time. You are watching Marcus as the small screen takes on the shape of a blob and it’s a second before the rapid pulsing beat of a heart coming through, sounding like it’s underwater, which it technically is. You see the tears pool in his eyes and you grab his hand and squeeze. “Our baby.”

He inhales sharply, his chest tightening as he stares at the screen like it’s the best thing he’s ever seen in his life. “Our baby.” He chokes out as tears escape and slide down his cheeks. “Our baby.” He repeats and kisses the back of your hand. “Thank you.” He murmurs, knowing you could’ve made a different decision and you would’ve been within your right to do so but this decision gives him what he’s always wanted: To be a father.

You bite your lip and reach up to wipe away your own tears. You’ve always wanted a baby, to be a parent and that’s going to happen. Even better it will be with a man who apparently wants it just as badly as you do. “Are mom and dad ready to find out the sex? The doctor asks as she focuses on the baby in your stomach and tries to get into a position with the wand to get a good look.

Marcus looks at you and you nod, squeezing his hand, “we are ready.” Marcus bites his lip, eager and anxious to find out. He truly doesn’t mind either way. Just wants a healthy and safe baby. The doctor moves the wand around a little more until she grins, pointing at the screen. “That’s your little girl.” She smiles and Marcus grins, a sob escaping his lips. “Our little girl.” He chokes, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead before he can think better of it.

“Our baby girl.” You murmur softly, emotional and wishing you could kiss Marcus for real. Instead, you squeeze his hand and grin at the screen. The doctor will give you pictures and you can show Marcus the others you have already gathered. “Now we have to figure out nursery themes.”

Marcus chuckles, “you pick. I build and decorate.” He says and the doctor chuckles, “you got a good one there. He knows the drill.” She winks at Marcus who flusters at the compliment, wanting to be the best dad he can be. “I’ll print off some copies and you can get dressed. Everything looks good, mom and dad.” She smiles and presses some buttons to print copies before she puts the machine away, leaving you to get dressed after she shuts the door. “Can you-?” You ask, needing help off the table, and he nods, taking your hand to help you down.

Marcus bites his lip and shuffles slightly. “Can I- uh, touch your stomach?” He asks softly. “Without- without the clothes?” He knows you might tell him no, but he wants to be as close as he can to his child. “Of course.” You are still wearing your bra and you immediately bring his hand to your stomach, his bare skin touching yours. “You can touch my stomach anytime. You can talk to her, cuddle with her.” You smile. “I want her to know your voice too.”

“Our girl.” He grins and caresses your stomach, he’s so happy you are allowing him to touch you. “She’s gonna be beautiful. Just like her mama.” He says, his eyes flicking up to you and you do look gorgeous. Part of him wishes he could kiss you but he knows he’s emotional and that’s not the right thing to do. He shifts to kneel down, cupping your belly and he leans in to press a soft kiss to your skin, “you’re already so loved, baby girl. Mama and I are gonna be the best parents we can be.” He promises her in a soft voice.

He’s such a good man. Your heart melts when you see him talk to your belly with the softest, most loving voice. He’s going to be such a good daddy and it makes you tear up. “Yes we are.” You promise thickly and smile when he looks up at you. “Gonna give her everything we can.”

“Why don’t we get some food and stop by the baby stores?” You suggest. “Start putting together the nursery?”

He nods, agreeing to that idea and you dress before you head out to set your next appointment. The nurse hands you an envelope with the scans in and Marcus wants to take your hand to guide you outside but he settles for his hand on your lower back.

“Let me buy you lunch?” You offer, almost certain that he will not let you. “You bought dinner the last two times we have eaten together.”

He sighs, not wanting you to pay when you’re carrying his baby but he nods, knowing it’s best to let you win sometimes. He hates how this could so easily be a relationship but he hardly knows you and it would be risky to jump in when you are going to be co-parents. “Lunch then you can use my card for baby things.” He winks.

You snort and lift a brow. “I hope you’ve got the credit line.” You tease. “While I wish I could have sushi, how do you feel about that salad place?” You ask. “I’m feeling like a big salad and maybe some soup.” You decide. “Oh and a cookie.”

Marcus nods, “whatever you want, sweetheart. You are growing our baby girl. You can have whatever you like.” He promises and he guides you out to the car. “And when she’s born, you’ll have as much sushi as you want.”

“Right in the delivery room.” You snort, practically drooling at the idea. “Just a huge platter.” You try to ignore the way your stomach flutters when he calls you sweetheart. “But for now, I can’t risk it. And she’s worth it.” You coo, rubbing your hand on your stomach.

He grins, “biggest platter they sell.” He promises, “and deli meat.” He chuckles and guides you out to his car, his hand hovering over your back as he unlocks the car and opens the door for you. This feels so real now. He’s having a daughter.

“Now you’re talking.” You groan. “I never knew what all went into a pregnancy diet and I am not amused. Charcuterie boards are sometimes all I live off of.” You joke. “Although I have been eating more ice cream.”

“Isn’t that known online as girl dinner?” He teases, knowing his coworkers have joked about cheese and meat being ‘girl dinner’ like it was dubbed online. You chuckle, surprised he knows about that, and he smiles, pleased that he made you laugh.

“What does your boy dinner look like?” You ask when he gets behind the wheel. “Lazy, easy meal? Are you just an order take out kind of guy?”

He lifts his shoulders playfully, “yeah. I - I like…I kinda like gas station hot dogs.” He admits with a wince, “my dad - we used to go on the road for the weekend fishing and he couldn’t cook for shit so we’d stop off and in the middle of nowhere, it was sketchy diner food or gas station food so I kinda got used to gas station hot dogs. I want one every now and then.” He admits, knowing it’s not the best food.

“Hot dogssssssss.” You groan and nod. “The shitty gas station roller dogs are the best. I’ll even risk the chili for a chili cheese dog with onions and relish.” You agree. “I could have the all beef ones.” Your eyes light up. “Ohhhhh.”

He grins, amazed that you aren’t grossed out. Teresa definitely was when he said he had a late night craving after a show he took her to. “You wanna get one?” He asks, tilting his head.

“Let’s do it!” You nod eagerly. “Do you know where to get the nastiest, best hot dog?” You ask him. “I want that and a Sprite. Ohhhh and some Cheetos.”

Marcus chuckles, “your wish is my command, milady.” He bows his head and after you’re settled in his car, he takes you to a gas station across town that has what he swears is the best damn hot dog. All beef and typical gas station.

“Ohhhh they have slushies.” Your mouth waters when you walk in. “I know it’s pure sugar, but I love a blue raspberry slushie.” You admit as you walk into the gas station and see the machines lining the back of the store.

"Get one baby. You're pregnant." He says, having seen that you are cautious with what you eat and you deserve a treat. He walks over to the hot dog roller and asks you what you want.

"I might regret it, but I want chili, cheese, onions, relish and mustard." You list off. "Ooooh and ketchup." You bite your lip and shoot him a grin before you're quickly moving over to the slushie machine.

He nods, working fast to put your hot dog together and he sets it aside while he gets his own, watching you create a multi color slushy. Shit, it would be so easy to fall in love with you. He's pretty sure he's halfway there but he can't do it. He needs to control his emotions and not jump in. He has to think about his daughter and co-parenting peacefully. He can't fuck this up.

Happy with your mixed drink, you are sucking on it with enthusiasm when you come back over to find Marcus has made you the perfect chili dog. “God, you’re perfect.” You groan. “Another reason on the list justifying that your ex was insane.” You bite your lip after the comment comes out. “Sorry, I- I shouldn’t have said that.”

Marcus shakes his head, "it's okay. I- I am over her. Four months undercover kinda gives you a fast track to get over heartbreak. Well, and a one night stand." He offers you a wry smile, "you want a Sprite?" He asks and you nod so he heads over to the soda machine to get your drink.

You grin as he remembers the drink, even though you have the slushie in your hand. Walking by the chips, you grab a bag of Cheetos and bring it up to the counter. “Get something else too!” You call back across the store.

He grabs some candy and some pringles, scanning the aisle until he appears at the cash register with your food. The attendant chuckles when she sees you are pregnant. "I remember the cravings. I ate an entire lemon once. Rind on." She shudders, "but it's all worth it in the end." She says with a smile, "and you two are a gorgeous couple. You are gonna make a cute baby."

You can see Marcus doesn’t know how to answer that but you just smile as you pull out your wallet. “Thank you.” You tell her. “We just found out that we are having a little girl and we are over the moon.” You look over at Marcus. “After this feast of junk food, we are going to go pick out alllllll the baby things.”

The woman grins, "oh daddy...your wallet is gonna hurttt." She sings playfully and Marcus chuckles, "oh I know but she's worth it. They both are." He smiles at you and she coos, "you got a good one." She winks and Marcus flusters, picking up your food. "Thank you." You say and the woman grins, "congratulations." She says and you thank her again before you leave the gas station. "She's right, you know." Marcus says when you're back in the car, food balanced on his console. You turn to look at him, tilting your head. He continues, "our little girl is going to be gorgeous...because she's going to look like her momma."

“You’re just lucky you haven’t seen me hanging over the toilet bowl looking like a death warmed over witch.” You joke, enjoying the little flutter in your chest at his compliment. “But I hope she looks like a good mix of both of us. You are a very pretty man yourself.” You wink at him playfully.

Marcus can’t help but fluster, cheeks reddening at your compliment and he takes a sip of his soda to cover his embarrassment. “She will be a looker. Good thing I have my gun.” He jokes and picks up his hot dog after he sets his soda down.

You snort. “You can’t shoot all the boys.” You remind him playfully and quickly pick up your hot dog to take a bite, “cheers for the heartburn that will be completely worth it.” You joke before taking a bite and groaning happily.

He grins as you take a huge bite, loving how happy you look right now and he’s glad he could do that for you. Provide for you. “God that’s so good.” He groans, taking his own bite and he knows this is so bad but it’s so good, bringing back memories.

“Soooooo good.” You wiggle in the seat a little, doing a little happy dance as you take another bite. “This is going to become a problem.” You groan. “I can see craving this every day. Or maybe every week so I don’t live off Tums.”

Marcus chuckles, “I'm at your command. Just tell me the craving and it’s yours.” He promises and you giggle, “except sex.” Marcus’s chuckle turns a bit stiff and he hates the air that suddenly covers you. He really does like you. Thinks about that night together quite a lot but you are co-parents. That’s all. “Any food item.” He clarifies playfully, “or drink.”

You nod, understanding the boundaries that Marcus is setting. You want sex, you crave it, but obviously he’s not going to want a sexual relationship with you now. “I’ll try to keep the cravings between business hours.” You tease, reaching for your slushie to take a sip.

Marcus chuckles, “any hour for a craving.” He promises that and watches as you take a sip of your slushie. “I’ll do whatever you want for our girl.” He promises and you hum, not wanting to answer when it’s clear he doesn’t feel the same way.

****

“What about this one?” Marcus asks, walking over to a crib that he likes. You’ve already picked a stroller and a high chair. His parents had offered to buy some things after he broke the news and he wants to do a video call with them so they can officially meet you.

“Oh that’s sweet.” You are emotional, and have already cried over how cute some of the clothes are. The hormones and the nesting urge is starting to get to you now that you have realized that you aren’t alone anymore. “This one also becomes a toddler bed.” You show him the mention on the paperwork. “That could be good as she grows older.”

Marcus nods, liking to be practical. “That’s great. God, how are we gonna handle a toddler?” He asks with a chuckle, “I can already tell I’m going to go gray early.” He smirks and his eyes watch as you read the price. “Don’t worry about the price.”

“I didn’t think a bed would be so expensive.” You snort and shake your head. You have money, but Marcus doesn’t seem to be too worried about everything. “Oh, um, can we run by a clothing store?” You ask. “My pajamas are getting too tight and I think I’m just going to get some nightgowns.”

“Of course, sweetheart. Whatever you need.” He promises, using the scanner the store gave you to scan the bed you want so it can be delivered. He saved a lot of money preparing for a wedding to Teresa and he’s only too happy to spend it on his daughter instead. He’s excited to become a father and today has made it even more real.

“Do you think you will have paternity leave?” You ask, unsure of the FBI’s policies and what they are doing for new fathers. “Although I’m sure they will be surprised that you are suddenly expecting a baby.”

“I spoke to my boss this morning and he said I get six weeks of paternity leave. Apparently the FBI wanted to keep morale high and changed the policy so I’m here for overnight diaper duty.” He teases and scans some bottles you’re picking up.

“That’s good.” You laugh. “We can be sleep deprived together.” Marcus grins as if the idea of no sleep and dirty diapers sounds like the best kind of work to look forward to. “So seriously. What do you think about me pumping? So you can feed her too?” You ask, stopping at the pumps and turning to get his opinion.

You’d talk about wanting to breastfeed and he supported you in whatever decision you want. He was bottle fed and it didn’t do him any harm. “Whatever you want, sweetheart. I’m happy to feed her if you want to pump.” He offers you a soft smile and he’s excited, loving shopping for the baby things. “We need to pick out a paint too so I can get started on painting her nursery.

You bite your lip, imagining him rolling the walls, and trying not to let your neglected libido take over. "How about a neutral soft color?" You ask. "Like a buttery yellow or a light green?"

“Whatever you want, baby.” He promises as he reads the label for the pump before he scans it, his mind focused on that and not what he calls you as he picks out the best for your baby girl. “I’ll get the paint this weekend so it’s ready for the furniture delivery.”

"This is coming along quicker than expected." You admit, happy that Marcus is a take charge and get things done kind of guy. "Ohhh we need to get a monitor system. Maybe see if they have one that has a camera?"

“I heard the Nannit is a good one.” He says, walking along with his scanner, “they’re not cheap but it’s peace of mind. It has an app.” He says, knowing his coworker told him about it and it sounds like the best.” He scans it without thinking and you continue picking things out. This feels real to him. Like a real relationship, and it’s scary. He can’t lose you or his baby girl but he can’t risk telling you that he wants more. He will settle for what he has. It’s more than he thought he’d ever get.

"Wow." You are impressed and your face tells him that. "You've really done your homework." You smile and nod. "Okay, but why don't I buy that?" You ask. "Since you are buying all the furniture? I think that's fair."

He knows he doesn’t want you to feel inadequate so he nods, “sure thing, sweetheart.” He is excited to be the best dad he can be. “Come on, let’s go get this paid and ordered and then we can get you some sexy nightgowns.” He teases, knowing you want to be comfortable.

Laughing, you shake your head. “Yep, gonna be the sexiest beached whale this side of the Atlantic.” You joke, rubbing your hand over your growing stomach. “It’s starting to get in the way of tying my shoes. I’m going to have to switch to just slip ons.”

Marcus chuckles, “we can get those too.” He promises and you smile, making his heart flutter.

****

Marcus wipes his brow as he bends over to put more paint on the roller. He’s finally taken his shirt off, sweat beading on his skin as he works hard. The D.C summer is in full swing and his AC is working overtime while he puts the nursery together.

“Marcus, do you want-“ you stop short, a drink in your hand and drool. Marcus is still handsome, but apparently he had been working out while he was undercover because the softness of his body from before had become lean muscle. Your baby daddy is sexy and it’s even sexier that he has a paint roller in his hand as he paints the nursery. “I made some lemonade.” You manage when he turns towards you. “Figured you might need a drink?”

Marcus nods, “Thank you. It’s been kille in this heat.” He admits, “and wearing a damn suit and tie still during the week.” He goes into the office and he’s working hard to set up his paternity leave and make sure people don’t have too much to do while he’s gone. “Be careful when you get in there.” He says, “I’ll be done in a bit. Gotta wait for this coat to dry.”

"I will." You nod and quickly walk out, the paint fumes heavy and you know that he will not want you there. It would be bad for you and the baby.

Since it's so hot, you decide to just put on your bikini, your bump on display and you are thankful that the little patio off the townhouse is covered so you aren't baking in the sun. Your own glass of lemonade and book are already out there as you step outside to climb into the pool. You bought one just a few days ago to try to cool down.

Marcus washes his hands and wipes his brow after he puts the paint supplies away, needing to finish another coat tomorrow, but for now, he makes his way downstairs to find you in the inflatable pool. His eyes widen at the sight of your body. You were gorgeous before you were pregnant and now? He’s jerking off every damn day in the shower because he is so attracted to you. Knowing you have his baby inside you has him rock hard. “Are you enjoying that?” He teases as he approaches you.

“God yes.” You groan, eyes closed behind your sunglasses as you lean against the edge of the inflated pool. “I could live in this pool.” You admit shamelessly. “Sell tickets, it would be like going to Sea World.” You joke, feeling more and more like a seal or a walrus every day.

Marcus scoffs, “you are glowing and growing our baby. You are gorgeous.” He promises just as his phone dings. He pulls it from his pocket and reads the message, a frown appearing on his face. “What’s happened?” You ask and he sighs, locking his phone, “Teresa and Jane just got married.”

You see the way his expression changes and you wonder if he is still in love with her. “I’m so sorry.” You murmur, reaching out and touching his arm gently before pulling back. He might be wondering where he would be if she hadn’t left him. It could be possible she would be carrying his baby instead of you. He might regret this now.

He reaches for your hand, squeezing it. “It’s not - I’m not upset that she is married because I still love her. I’m upset that she married him when she told me she couldn’t marry me. It’s - it makes it real. The fact that she never really loved me.” He admits and looks down at you.

“You deserve so much more.” You promise him, feeling a little bittersweet because it won’t be you. He’s amazing and exactly what you want. “I told you, she’s fucking crazy.” You scoff. “You are the FBI’s most eligible bachelor and I know you will be a hit at playgroups when our daughter is older.”

Marcus chuckles, “isn’t that a dilf?” He teases and you nod, smirking, “I’ll be fighting all the moms.” You promise and his stomach twists, wishing you would claim him as yours. What he had with Teresa…it pales in comparison to his relationship with you. With you, it’s as natural as breathing and he doesn’t feel like he has to go all out to impress you, you are happy with him being there. It would be so easy to lean in and kiss you but he can’t. He can’t ruin this.

Wanting to lighten the mood, you lift your hand and flick some water at him playfully. "Come join me." You urge him, "the water is cool and you need to rest too, Mr. Dilf."

He chuckles, reaching for the hem of his shorts, and he groans as he sits in the water in his briefs, not caring about changing into swimming trunks when he’s around you. “Better enjoy it while we can. She will be here soon enough and fall will be in full swing.”

"Cooler temperatures will be welcomed." You grin. "Although I think we need to figure out what our little girl will be wearing for her first Halloween."

Marcus grins, “I, uh, I was thinking maybe dress her up as Pebbles and Fred and Wilma.” He smirks, “I loved the Flintstones as a kid.” He confesses, “I’d love to dress up but never had anyone to do it with.”

"Ohhhhh we could do that!" You love the idea, although it would make everyone in the neighborhood think that you are a family. You are, in a weird way, but you aren't a couple. "That's what we will do." You decide with a nod before you take a sip of your lemonade. "The baby furniture should be here tomorrow. They called while you were finishing up."

“Oh good. I just need to finish the final coat of paint but I can do that later.” He says as he lounges in the water. He’s excited to see the nursery finished and he is nervous to become a father for the first time.

"Soon enough, she will be here." You hum, rubbing your hand over your stomach gently and laughing when she kicks. "God, feel this." You grab Marcus's hand and put it on your stomach. "She's a kicker."

Marcus loves any chance to feel her kick and he grins, “she’s gonna be trouble.” He says despite grinning, he’s so excited to meet his daughter.

****

Marcus sits on the sofa, glasses perched on his nose as he reads a baby book. You have been to pre-natal classes together and he’s determined to learn everything he can about his daughter. He hates that he’s getting older, his eyes going as he ages so he has invested in reading glasses.

"Hot dad alert." You are waddling now, having to pee every five minutes and holding your back like it's about to break. Any day you are going to bust this watermelon open and give Marcus a baby, but does he have to look so fucking sexy all the time? You groan as you come around the edge and flop down next to him in a less than graceful landing. "Fuck, she's dropped, she's lower than she was yesterday, isn't she?"

He looks at you with his glasses on the end of his nose, closing the book after marking the page, “she looks it.” His hand finds your belly without permission after you told him he can touch it whenever he wants.

"The bag is packed." You promise him with a grin. "Mine and hers." You lift your brow. "Do you have yours packed, or have you decided to not stay?" You had told him that he could be in the delivery room, but he might not want to stay in the hospital with you depending on how long you have to be there. You wouldn't blame him for that, although it was sweet that Marcus's parents had asked to come out for the birth, or at least when you come home from the hospital to meet their grandchild. They would stay in a hotel room and it was nice to feel like you had a support system since your own parents have barely seemed interested in remembering that you are having a baby. You'd sent them a text and they have only called you once since then. You had no interest in even letting them know when you go into labor.

Marcus adjusts his glasses after pulling his hand away, “my bag has been packed for weeks.” He confesses, “it’s in the back of my car. I bought travel size everything and you are talking to a g-man, baby. My entire job depends on me being organized.” He winks at you, “and my parents are all set. They can’t wait to meet you and the baby. We still need to decide on a name, or some options so we can decide when we meet her.”

"So I wanted to talk to you about that." You bite your lip and reach for his hand on your stomach. "I want her to have your last name." You confess quietly. "How do you feel about that?"

Marcus raises his eyebrows and he grins, “you want that?” He asks and you nod. He inhales deeply, “I’d love that.” He promises, lifting your hand to press a kiss to the back of your hand. He doesn’t mention the thought that comes to mind that he’d love you to have his last name too. Living with you has been so easy. Like you’ve always been here, like it’s meant to be. It was never this easy with any of his exes and that scares him. How easy it was to fall in love with you when you don’t want to be with him.

"Good." Your heart flutters at the kiss and you wish you just could tell him how you feel, but you don't want to make things awkward. "Now, we need to pick out names that go well with Pike." You hum. "What about your grandmother's? Any good names there?"

He chuckles, “my grandma? Her name was Magnolia. Proper southern charm and could tear a man down with a look, let alone a few words.” He says with fondness, “her middle name was Annabelle.”

"Annabelle?" You try it out and love it. "Annabelle Pike." You hum as you look at him questioningly. "How about Annabelle Marie Pike?" You ask, always loving the name Marie since you had a childhood friend with that name.

He wonders how it’s so easy. He knows he would’ve been arguing with his ex wife about this for hours but with you, it takes moments. “I love it. Annabelle Marie.” He coos, caresses your stomach before he leans in to press a kiss to your covered bump.

You smile softly and reach up to run your fingers through his hair. "You are going to be an amazing daddy." You murmur quietly, loving how affectionate he already is with your daughter and she's not even here yet. He will be the best girl dad imaginable and you are so grateful if you have to have a baby with someone, that it is this man.

Your due date is any day now and Marcus is anxious. He's cut back on his hours and assigned cases to his team who are aware that any day is his daughter's arrival day. He opens the fridge, reaching for the carton, and he opens it, about to lift it to his mouth when he reminds himself. He was a single man, the milk carton was his alone, but you told him to use a glass. Not in a nagging way but a reminder to be a damn adult. He smiles to himself and sets the carton down to grab a glass for himself.

Panting, you hold onto the wall as you slowly make your way down the stairs. You have been having pains since first thing this morning and you tried to ignore it, but it's getting stronger. "Marc-" you call out breathlessly when you are halfway down the stairs. You had heard him down here after you went to the bathroom and decided that it was time to tell him. "Marcus."

He sets his glass down, milk covering his upper lip. He licks it off and frowns at the tone in your voice. You sound like you're in pain. He rushes over to the bottom of the stairs and looks up at you, "you doing okay, baby?" He asks and you shake your head, gripping the bannister. "It's time." You gasp and his eyes widen, "it's time. Shit. It's time." He rambles, starting to rush around before he runs up the stairs to help you down. "We gotta get you into the car and get your bags and - you okay?" He asks, his dark eyes finding yours.

“It hurts like a bitch.” You admit breathlessly. “I didn’t- I was hoping it was gas pains.” You admit. “I’ve been -ugggghh- having them for about three hours.” You admit, knowing he will be upset you didn’t tell him sooner, but you didn’t want to panic and go to the hospital too soon.

"Why didn't you -" He shuts his mouth, knowing it's best to not lecture you right now when you are in pain. The main thing is getting you to the hospital. He helps you down and rushes around to grab the bags, "you need your jacket." He says, "and shoes." He says breathlessly, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Shoes could be useful.” You chuckle, trying to catch your breath. “I’ve got my bags in the hallway closet.” You remind him. You both had car seats installed in your cars, you having bought a new one a few months ago because you wanted a safer vehicle for the baby. “My car or yours?” You ask, smiling as he rushes around to get things together. “Yours, right? Your bag is already in the trunk?”

"My car." He confirms, bending down to slide your shoes on, grabbing your jacket next, and he is panicking but you are as prepared as you are ever going to be. He guides you out to the car, opening the door, and he rubs your back as you grip the top of the car, bending over as a contraction hits you. "It's okay, sweetheart." He promises, letting you take your time until he has you in the car and on the way to the hospital.

“I know.” You reach over and grab his hand and squeeze. “Thank you for being here with me.” You pant, scared of what is to come, but you are comforted by the strong and solid man beside you. He will be your anchor in all of this and it’s been wonderful to know you can rely on him. “We are having a baby.”

"I am always here. No matter what. Every step of the way." He promises, "we are in this together. Our little girl." He smiles and kisses the back of your hand before he lets go so he can start the drive to the hospital. He texted your doctor and she's on the way to the hospital.

On the way to the hospital, you try to breathe, closing your eyes and whining when the pains get bad. “Oh fuck.” You lean back and try to catch your breath. “I want the drugs.” You tell Marcus. “I’m not doing this without them.”

“You can have all the drugs, baby.” He promises, adjusting his glasses after he pulls them from the console, navigating the traffic a little faster than he should but he has his badge ready in case someone decides to pull him over. “Just breathe, sweetheart.” He says, knowing you could slap him but he wants you to breathe for him.

You nod, remembering the classes you had taken with Marcus and start to use some of the breathing methods. “Do you- are you going to watch?” You ask, trying to distract yourself from the pain. “Cut the cord? Or just wait for the baby to come out?”

“I’m going to be there for every single step.” He promises, “you can squeeze the shit out of my hand and I’ll cut the cord. I promise you, I will be by your side.” He vows as he pulls into the lane to the exit for the hospital.

You laugh quietly and sigh in relief. “Oh thank god.” You whimper in thanks that you are at the hospital. “I can’t wait to get hooked up to machines.” You snort. “But I want that little needle in my spine.”

“You’ll get it.” Marcus promises and pulls up outside, wanting to get you in before he parks the car. The nurses come out and help you into the wheelchair and Marcus smiles, promising you he will be right there with the bags after he parks the car.

You are questioned from here to eternity and given a ton of paperwork to fill out. “Marcus- he’s the father.” You look over your shoulder for him. “He’s coming with me.” You worry that they will give him a hard time since you aren’t married. “He’s- oh there he is.” You smile when you see him dragging all the bags with him.

Marcus offers the nurses an excited and nervous grin before he follows you to your room with the bags. His heart is pounding and he had texted his parents when he parked to tell them it’s time. He’s so nervous he feels sick but he can’t let you know that. He has to be there for you.

It takes some time to get settled, changed into a gown and hooked up to all the machines. “Lord.” You shake your head and flip your head back onto the pillow. “You would think that someone is having a kid or something.” You joke when you are finally left alone for a moment with Marcus.

“Crazy, right?” He teases, reaching for your hand to kiss the back of it. “How are you feeling?” He asks and you chuckle, “like I’m about to push your daughter out of my vagina.” Marcus squeezes your hand, “you’re gonna be great. At birth and as a mother.” He promises. “And they are bringing the drugs.”

“Oh thank god.” You groan happily. “For a while I was really scared that the old tale about growing a watermelon in your stomach was true.” You joke. “You make big babies, Pike. How much did you weigh when you were born?”

His ears redden as he blushes, “I was nine pounds two ounces. Hence why I’m an only child.” He admits bashfully, knowing his mother reminded his father of how big his son was when he was born.

“I’m going to give birth to a football player,” you moan playfully. “And you’ve got fucking broad shoulders. Bet those baby pics show that too.” You roll your eyes and sigh dramatically. “You’re lucky I’m going to have drugs so I don’t curse you.”

“You can curse me all you want. As long as you’re safe and sound and our baby girl is here.” He squeezes your hand, “and I’ll be here. No matter what.” He vows and he knows you’ll be cursing his name later but for now, he’s happy to be here for you and support you.

The next few hours are painful. It seems like your labor has stalled and you aren't dilating as fast as you were when you came in. "OH shit." You whine, closing your eyes and rubbing your stomach as you hold onto the IV pole. The nurses have wanted you to walk around and you are currently halfway down the hall from your room with Marcus supporting you. "You know the worst stomach cramps you've had in your life? That's what this is on crack."

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. If I could take it away or take it from you for a bit, I would.” He promises, rubbing your back again. “And don’t forget the sushi platter. The biggest one you’ve ever seen after she’s born.” He reminds you with a smile.

"I'm gonna hold you to that." You pant, shaking your head and starting to shuffle closer to your room again. "I just want it to be closer to that sweet, sweet time that I can have that epidural." You step and feel a rush of liquid. "Shit."

Marcus looks down, “oh shit.” He echoes and his heart pounds as he calls a nurse over. “I think - her water just broke.” He rushes out, a little panicked now that things are moving along.

"We need to get you back to your room." The nurse rushes over and helps Marcus to get you back to your room and settled into your bed. You definitely didn't pee yourself. "I'll send the doctor in immediately."

Marcus reaches for your hand, “she is going to be making an entrance. I can tell.” He smirks and leans in to kiss your forehead, “drugs soon.”

The labor manages to kick into high gear. The contractions coming closer and closer and the pain blooming until the doctor comes in to administer that epidural. That's when it turns into a lovely experience. You can't feel your pain anymore, resting slightly before you are going to have to push. "I hope she looks like you." You tell Marcus, smiling over at him. "You are so handsome. You would make a pretty woman."

Marcus blushes, shaking his head, “I hope she looks like you. I’ll have to fight every romantic prospect from here to L.A but she will be beautiful like her mama.” He smiles and watches you relax now the pain has subsided.

"You won't have to worry about that." You snort, closing your eyes and squeezing his hand gently. "She's going to be a daddy's girl." You predict. "Completely in love with her daddy."

Marcus grins, “I can’t wait to meet her. I know we had an unconventional start to this journey, but I’m so happy you made the decision to keep her. I thought, well, I thought my chances to be a father were over. Thank you for giving me this.” He says, his eyes sincere.

If you can't be honest when you are actively giving birth to his child, when can you be? "It's no big deal." You joke modestly. "Just had an amazing night and then fell in love with the father of my baby. What could be easier?"

Marcus's eyes widen at your confession, and he is still, silent, for a few moments. You frown and it deepens the longer he's silent. "Baby, I-" He starts but you cut him off, "no. It's okay. I - I shouldn't have-" He cuts you off, "I love you. When I was undercover, I couldn't stop thinking about you. I have fallen more in love with you every single day and I have struggled with not being with you and raising our daughter together. I want you. I love you. I'm in love with you." He confesses, eyes wide and anxious.

"We picked a hell of a time to have this conversation, didn't we?" You ask, laughing slightly as you reach out and caress his cheek. "I love you, I'm in love with you too and after we go back home - I want to see what can happen if we are together."

Marcus chuckles, leaning in to press his forehead against yours. “I love you.” He murmurs, tilting his head so he can press a soft kiss to your lips. He doesn’t linger too long, knowing that you are busy having his baby, but he kisses your forehead and smiles, “our life together begins.” He promises and caresses your bump.

You laugh as the doctor comes in, all smiles. “Well, it looks like the drugs have kicked in.” She comments as she gloves up. “Time to check you.” She tells you before she lifts the blanket over your legs. “Oh there’s the head!” She announces, sending the room into a flurry of activity.

Marcus’s eyes widen, “she’s - she’s coming?” He chokes, shocked that she is crowning and you didn’t even know. “Must be some drugs.” He murmurs, watching the staff rush and before he knows it, he’s gowned up and holding your hand while the doctor tells you when to push. “She’s coming.” He grins, looking down at her crowning head when the doctor asks if he wants to see her.

You close your eyes. "Just don't judge me." You joke. "I don't know what it looks like right now, but I'm sure that it's stretchy." You look over at a nurse when she holds up a mirror so you can see and nod. "I want to see her too." You tell her, biting your lip when you see the baby's head.

Marcus can already feel the tears forming in his eyes as you are told to push. “Just breathe baby.” He murmurs, kissing the back of your hand. “You’re doing so good. She’s gonna be here any second.”

You start to push, crying out from the pressure that overrides the drugs and you squeeze his hand. "Ohhhhhh my goddddddddddddd." You scream while bearing down and watching as the head pushes out of you.

Marcus has tears falling down his cheeks and he kisses your sweaty forehead, “come on baby. You got this.” He says as he watches you push again at the doctor's order. “She’s nearly here.”

Your eyes are closed, not watching the mirror as you focus on pushing as hard as you can. Trying to stay silent, but the whine comes out of you. Listening as the doctor says that one shoulder blade is out, and opening your eyes to look at Marcus as you give the final push to bring your daughter into the world.

Her cry fills the room after a moment of silence and he sobs, “our little girl.” He chokes and the doctor asks if he wants to cut the cord. He nods and shuffles down to grip the scissors with shaking hands, cutting the cord so the doctor can tie it off and place the baby on your chest.

Within seconds of watching Marcus's face light up in pure love and joy, the baby is deposited on your chest and you are immediately obsessed. She's perfect. Angry at being pushed into the world, although she quickly calms down against your skin and you are sobbing as you cradle her to you. "Oh my god. She's so perfect." You cry, kissing her head and looking up to see Marcus looking at both of you.

He is so happy at this moment. You love him like he loves you and you just gave birth to your daughter. It’s incredible and he is sobbing and he leans in to kiss your forehead. “I love you. I love you.” He chokes, leaning down to kiss her forehead, “I love you, my Annabelle.”

"We love you too." You promise, crying happy tears and pulling him closer so he can touch the baby. "She's here, she's perfect and she's here." You tell him, like he just hadn't witnessed her birth.

He caresses her head and watches as he tries to suckle on your nipple, recognizing her mama. He smiles and strokes her head as she settles while the doctor works on you. "She's beautiful." He murmurs, "just like her mama."

You smile up at him, before looking back down at the baby and sighing softly. You know that the nurses will need to take her in a moment, but you want this. You've waited to meet her and she is finally here. "She has your ears." You coo in delight when you see that her ears are curled slightly.

After Annabelle is taken away, Marcus wipes his eyes and leans in to kiss your lips, “I love you.” He murmurs, his heart fit to burst. After Annabelle is cleaned up, he leans over you as you cradle her, a look of love and awe on your face that takes his breath away. “She has your nose.” He says, “thank God.”

“How can you tell, it’s still smooshed from being born?” You ask, even though you adore her already. Looking up at Marcus, you wiggle to the side of the bed. “Sit down and take your shirt off.” You order him. “Skin to skin contact is good for you both.”

Marcus nods, reaching for the hem of his t-shirt and he pulls it over his head. He notices your eyes appraising him and he smirks, “like what you see?” He asks as he takes Annabelle from you, cooing to her as he settles with her on his chest. She curls into him, her mouth opening as she tries to suckle on him and he chuckles, “mama is the one with the milk. I’m your daddy, baby girl.” He coos and she squeaks before she settles down.

It’s a precious moment and you reach for your phone to take a picture, wanting to keep this memory forever. “You’re so beautiful together.” You whisper, snapping pic after pic as he looks up at you and beams in the next photo. “You are already such a great daddy and she’s not even an hour old.”

He grins, caressing her back, “is it weird if I say that I feel like I’m complete? Like this is what I was put on earth to do?” He says and you smile, caressing his shoulder, “you look like it.” He smiles and leans down to press a kiss to Annabelle’s head. “I believe I owe mommy a sushi platter.” He murmurs to her until he looks up at you.

“I did just give you a perfect little girl to spoil.” You tease, leaning over and touching her head gently. “She is worth every sushi roll I didn’t get to eat.” You promise. “I can’t believe it.” Your yawn catches you off guard, but you are exhausted from the labor.

“Why don’t you get some sleep? I’ll look after her and when you wake up, I’ll have that sushi platter ready for you to dig into?” He asks and leans in to kiss your forehead, “get some rest. We will be just fine.”

You want to argue, but you know it won’t be safe for you to hold her while you are so tired. The afterbirth has been passed and they have changed the pad up under you so you are all cleaned up. “Okay.” You agree, leaning back and closing your eyes. “I love you both.” You murmur softly.

“We love you.” He promises, shifting off the bed so you can settle down properly and he rocks Annabelle until she’s asleep and he places her in the cot they have next to your bed. He caresses her cheek as he stretches before curling back into herself and he smiles, grabbing his phone to organize the sushi he promised to get you. He’s so happy right now. Everything he’s ever wanted is right here.

****

Tonight is the night. You’ve been cleared by the doctors to resume intercourse and you’ve had your IUD placed this time since the pills weren’t a good option. Being home has solidified your feelings for Marcus. The love that you have and you can’t wait to touch him again. It’s been six weeks of absolute bliss with him and Annabelle. Your little family bonding and despite being a little sleep deprived, you have never felt better in your life.

Marcus cradles Annabelle, cooing to her, and he looks up when you walk into the living room. You went for your six week check up and he’s anxious to see how things are. He’s been exhausted waking up with Annabelle in the middle of the night but it doesn’t stop him from jerking off in the shower thinking about you.

“Here are my two favorite people.” You grin as you look at the sleepy smile on Marcus’s face and you know he needs a nap. Setting your things down, you come over to the two of them and drop a kiss on your daughter’s head and then give Marcus a soft, promising kiss with a bit of heat on it. “Hello handsome.” You hum against his lips.

He smirks, “now that’s a hello.” He murmurs as he leans back to see the look on your face, “I trust everything went well at the appointment?” He asks and you nod, “very well.” He rocks Annabelle as she squeaks, “she knows mommy is home. I fed her about twenty minutes ago but maybe she wants some more.”

You nod and take her from Marcus. You pump for him to feed her, but you also breastfeed. Enjoying the bonding of the act and settle down beside him as you lower your shirt to put her on your nipple. “The doctor cleared me.” You tell him quietly as Annabelle latches on and starts to eat like she hadn’t had a meal in days. She’s greedy and it makes you smile. “I got an IUD this time.” You look over at him and smirk. “So we can take a nap when this one goes down…..or….”

He stares at you, his eyes glossing over, “are you - are you sure? You’re ready?” He asks, not wanting to pressure you if you aren’t ready. He doesn’t mind waiting. “I don’t feel tired.” He adds, wanting to give you the choice to ask him to take you to bed.

“I’ve been ready.” You admit. “But I wanted the doctor to clear me just in case.” You rock Annabelle and look down at her. “I’m not tired either. And I know that we’ve been sleeping apart, but maybe we can share a bed tonight? Afterwards?”

Marcus smiles, “whatever you want baby. I’m all in.” He promises, “I want you in my bed every night if you want to be there.” He’s already half hard at the thought of touching you and he watches you as you feed Annabelle, her eyes fluttering closed as she starts to fall asleep against your chest. “Go put her down and then I want you in my bed.”

“So eager.” You tease, even though you are just as eager. You take her upstairs and lay her down in her bassinet that Marcus had put together, still in it instead of the crib, before you walk down the hall to Marcus’s room. You reach for the handle, but decide to knock, since it’s not your room yet.

He looks up as you walk into his room, his shirt off and his feet bare as he sits on the foot of his bed. His smile is soft as you shut the door behind you and the iPad in your hand with the baby monitor on the screen. “Come here.” He orders and you walk over to stand between his legs. His hands caress your legs through your leggings and he looks up at you. “You’re so beautiful.” He murmurs, “I love you.”

“You know that everything is a little more flabby, right?” You are a little worried because he doesn’t know what your body looks like now after the baby’s birth.

Marcus shakes his head as he slides his hands up to squeeze your ass, “you just had our beautiful girl. You are strong and incredible. Do you think I care about some flab? I love you. All of you. No matter what.” He promises, “you amaze me and turn me on as you are and I want to worship you.” He says passionately, “I love you. Let me show you.”

“You are so amazing.” You promise, leaning in and pressing your lips against his gently. “You can do whatever you want. I’m yours. I promise.” It’s been such a relief over the past six weeks to have your emotions known and the two of you have had several conversations and made out.

He slides his hand to the hem of your shirt, slowly pulling it over your head to expose your nursing bra and he leans in to kiss your stomach after your shirt is on the floor. He wants you to know he loves all of you.

“Marcus.” He’s so incredibly gentle with you. Your own hands running through his hair and watches as he starts to strip your leggings down. “I love you.” You grin at him when he looks up at you. “Try not to knock me up this time.” You tease.

He chuckles, “I’d be batting a thousand if that happened.” He smirks as you step out of your leggings and he slides his hand up your back to unclasp your bra. He groans at the sight of your tits, unable to stop himself as he surges forward to wrap his lips around your nipple.

“Oh god!” It’s a completely different sensation from when you are nursing Annabelle. Pulling deep inside your core and making you clench around nothing. “Marcus.” You moan softly.

Marcus groans when a spurt of milk hits his tongue but he doesn't stop. He keeps sucking on your nipple, wanting to hear your sweet moans and his hands slide down to squeeze your ass, pulling you closer to him and he releases your nipple to kiss down your torso. He slides his tongue along your stretch marks, worshiping them until he ducks his head to bury his nose in the curls at the apex of your thighs. He groans at the heady scent of you and he shifts, sliding off the bed to kneel below you so he can slide his tongue through your folds.

“Baby-“ you choke out a sound of pleasure as his tongue presses against your clit. He’s talented, you’ve known that, but it’s been so long that you are almost overly sensitive. “The- oh fuck- the last time I had this, you were the one eating me out.” You remind him breathlessly.

He groans, “and it’s going to be me for the rest of our lives.” He says as he pulls away for a second to look up at you with adoration on his face. “Marry me.” He demands, wanting to be with you. He’s impulsive but he’s sure. He wants you. He loves you. It’s never been like this. You are his best friend and he wants you to be his wife.

You choke up, tears welling up in your eyes and you nod quickly. “Yes!” You promise him, wishing that you could kiss him right now. “Yes Marcus, yes!”

Marcus grins, knowing he should kiss you but instead, he surges forward to lap at your clit again. It's vigorous and intense and everything he's wanted to do since that night you showed up on his door again.

You lose yourself in the moment, body jerking in surprise and pleasure and you moan his name softly. You don’t want to wake Annabelle but it is so good as he flicks his tongue against your clit. “Fuck baby, I love you.” You whine softly.

He groans, his hands finding your ass as your fingers tangle in his hair. He's hard in his pants, aching for you after months of jerking off in the shower. He's desperate for you and the fact that you're going to be totally his is intoxicating. He slides his tongue to your entrance, lapping at it to enjoy your arousal.

His tongue is magical and the entire thing is so much better because he wants to do this. It’s not begrudging or lackluster, he is burying his tongue inside you after a moment of tasting you with a hungry eagerness. “Fuck baby, I - I wish you would have let me blow you while I was recovering.” You admit, knowing he has been trying so hard to hide his continuous arousal from you.

He shakes his head against your cunt, “no. I don’t - you had our little girl. Couldn’t let you do that.” He groans before diving back into your flesh. He wants to hear you moan for him. His hands grabbing your flesh with a hiss and he loves how you whine when he sucks on your clit.

It doesn’t take much to work you up, you had felt so guilty about using a vibrator that you hadn’t will you were pregnant, not wanting Marcus to hear you. Your body needing an orgasm. “Marcus, fuck - I love you. I love you!” You squeal when you fall apart on his tongue.

Your cry has him twitching in his pants, aching for you, but he focuses on you, working you through it with soft laps of his tongue on your clit. “Fuck, you’re so good.” He murmurs to himself against your skin until he’s pulling back to look up at you with a slicked up chin.

“Me?” You huff out a link and reach for him, wanting him close. “Strip down, Mr. Pike.” You order playfully. “It’s been too long and I need you.”

Marcus smirks, shifting to stand and he reaches for the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head. “I have jerked off so many times thinking about you.” He admits, “I love you.” He murmurs, nudging his nose against yours to kiss you while he works on unbuttoning his pants.

“Good to know.” You grin against his lips and pull back so you can watch. “I don’t know if I will ever get tired of this view.” You admit, admiring his body and pressing your thighs together in anticipation. “You are perfect.”

“Far from perfect.” He scoffs, “but I’m hoping I’m good enough to be your husband.” He says with a smile and he pushes his boxers down along with his pants to stand naked before you. He’s hard and aching for you, desperate for touch since he hasn’t had anyone since that night he met you.

“You will be my husband.” You promise, reaching for him. “And when we are ready, we can try for another baby?” You ask gently. You want Marcus to be present for the entire experience. “I’m kind of wanting another one already.”

Marcus lights up as he caresses your waist, dragging you up against his body. “You want another one?” He asks and you nod, making him grin. “I want another one. I want to be there for everything and have our family together.” He nudges his nose against yours, “and in the meantime, we can have fun trying.”

“Yes we can.” Reaching down, you wrap your hand around his cock and smirk when he groans your name. “I want you inside me.”

He thrusts into your grip, another groan escaping his lips as you move your hand along his length. You’re gorgeous and his making his heart pound in his chest. “I love you.” He pants, “let me - shit. Need to be inside you.” He says as he grabs you to start walking you backwards to the bed.

You let him guide you back and reluctantly let go of his cock while you fall back into his bed. Smiling when he groans and wraps his own hand around himself as he kneels, making you scoot back. “Fuck. You know the last time, we made a perfect baby girl.” You coo. “This time we are going to make love.”

Marcus smiles at your words, “to my fiancée.” He adds as he shuffles closer while you rest your head on the pillows. “My gorgeous girl.” He coos, shifting to his elbows so he can cover your body with his and he moves his hand down to grip his cock, sliding it through your folds.

Coming together is perfect. He breaks you open with an aching slowness that steals your breath and fills your heart. Emotional over the simple act that had become so much more than casual. Your hearts are involved and you have created a family together. Marcus presses his lips to yours and you let him in so easily. Groaning into his mouth as he bottoms out.

He can’t believe he has this. He has you. He has Annabelle. Everything he’s ever wanted and it’s suddenly so tangible that it makes him close his eyes so you don’t see them shine with unshed tears. It’s more than he’d ever imagined could happen. He starts to slowly move inside you, groaning your name against your lips.

You hold onto him as he rocks in and out of you. Kisses along his jaw, you can see that he is a little emotional. “I love you, baby.” You whisper, wanting to let him know how much you care about him. Caressing his back gently.

He groans as your walls flutter around him, making his chest tighten and he rocks into you. He’s in no hurry and he’s trying to control himself because you feel so fucking good around him, beneath him.

“Marcus.” You love how tender he is being, but your legs tighten around him, rocking up to meet his unhurried thrusts. “You - I love you. Can’t wait to be your wife.”

Marcus groans as you caress his back and he kisses along your neck, breathing you in. “So happy we met in that bar. I know it’s been a rocky road but fuck, I love you.” He murmurs, “so gorgeous and you’ve given me everything I’ve ever wanted.”

"It was meant to be." You promise, turning and pressing your lips to his again as he pushes deep and pulls a moan out of you. "Our story will be one our kids adore."

He chuckles, “the PG version.” He teases as he grabs your thigh to lift it higher so he can sink deeper into you. “You’re so beautiful, baby. Always thought so.” He murmurs, “ever since that night in the bar.”

“You caught my eye.” You tell him shamelessly. “I hated that a man as good looking as you looked so unhappy.” You moan again. “Best decision I ever made was coming over to talk to you.”

“I’m so glad you came over. I had no confidence. Thought I was unwanted, not good enough. She knocked me down and I was struggling to get back up until you gave me a boost.” He confesses breathlessly, “fuck - and best sex I’ve ever had.”

“We were great that night, weren’t we?” You giggle and lean up to lick his pulse. “Baby, you fucked me so good that night. I was dreaming of the next time you would take me home.” You promise. “Just didn’t know you would literally move me in.”

Marcus chuckles as he looks down at you, “should’ve moved you in sooner but I went undercover. Thought of you all the time when I was under. Jerked off to thoughts of you.” He confesses, “wanna have more nights like that.” He murmurs, biting on your earlobe .

“Every night we aren’t exhausted with the baby.” You promise, clenching down around him and loving how he chokes out your name. “Make me cum, Marcus.” You beg.

He nods, desperate to see you fall apart for him again, so he slides his hand between you, finding your clit and rubbing it while he presses kisses to your jaw, “cum for me, sweetheart. Wanna feel it.”

“Oh god, baby.” You whine when he starts to rub your clit. He’s so good to you. That coil that has been building and twisting inside you bursts under the skill of his fingers and you cry out in pleasure when you clamp down around him.

He groans when you squeeze him tight in your walls, making him hiss at how good you feel. It’s been so long since he has felt your warmth surrounding him and he feels the tingle in his belly, he’s close. “Fuck. Baby. I- shit. I can’t hold back.” He confesses, pulling his hand away from your clit to grab your hand.

“Then cum for me.” You beg. “I’m so close.” It doesn’t even matter if you cum right now. You just want to see him cum again, to feel it. “Cum for me baby. I love you so much,”

He desperately wants you to cum with him so he returns his fingers to your clit, rubbing it a little faster as he rocks into you frantically, a grunt escaping his lips as he twitches inside you, unable to hold back anymore as he starts to paint your walls with his cum.

“Marcuuuuuus.” You whine his name, eyes closing in pure bliss as the heat of his seed starts to fill you. The sensation and the knowledge that he is yours throws you over the edge, starting to shake as your walls flutter around his cock. “Marcus! I love you so much.”

He pants as he works you both through your highs and he groans when your nails scratch along his back as you convulse beneath him. "I love you." He declares breathlessly, kissing your chin after he gently bites it.

It’s so much better than the night you conceived Annabelle, the emotions heightening the sensation and making tears prick in your eyes. “I love you.” Gasp out, holding him close and panting when you are done shaking, wanting to keep him right where he is.

Marcus keeps himself above you by shifting his weight to his elbows but he leans in to kiss you, “so damn good. Wanna do that again when I can.” He chuckles, “not 18 anymore, baby.” He smiles and nudges his nose with yours.

“I’m glad you’re not 18.” You snort, kissing him again. “I love the man I have, not the one the boy could become.”

He groans as he rolls over, his cock sliding from you as he pulls you into his chest and he sighs when Annabelle’s cry sounds through the iPad. “I got her.” He kisses your forehead and shifts from the bed so he can pick up his boxers. He puts them on and comes back a few moments later with Annabelle, “it’s okay, sweetheart. Mama is here with some milk.” He promises, carrying her over to you.

You laugh as you take the baby from him. “But I have to pee.” You joke, letting her latch and knowing that you will wait. She won’t eat for long, she just always wants something when she wakes up from any kind of sleep no matter what time it is. “How about we order some pizza?” You ask, waggling your brows at him playfully. “Could be just like the first time.”

Marcus chuckles and nods, “let’s do it.” He smirks, grabbing his phone from his pants while you nurse Annabelle. He tosses his phone onto the nightstand when he’s done and he lays down beside you, leaning in to kiss his daughter’s head. “You’ve given me everything I’ve ever wanted.” He murmurs, looking up at you.

“Just wait until we have another.” You tease, smiling at him happily. “Then it will be everything you wanted.” You understand what he is meaning, though. He now has the life he had imagined when he asked Teresa to marry him, but you know he’s not looking at you like you are a replacement. He’s not that type of man. He wears his heart on his sleeve. “After she eats, I’ll get dressed and we can put her in her swing while we eat.”

“Sounds good baby.” Marcus leans in to kiss your forearm as you cradle Annabelle.

****

“Babe. Can you get the burp rag?” You call out, cradling your newborn son while Annabelle naps in her crib upstairs. Marcus is preparing dinner and he sets the knife down to bring the rag over to you. He kisses your forehead and hands you the rag, caressing the baby’s head when the doorbell rings. “Who the hell is that?” Marcus frowns, making his way down the hall to open the door. He checks the peep hole and his eyes widen, “what the fuck…” He trails off as he unlocks the door and opens it. “Teresa. Jane. What - what are you doing here?”

“Marcus!” She had told Patrick that she should send him an email or at least called, but he had insisted it would be fine. Wanted to be nosy about his life was more accurate, but neither one of them had heard much other than he was still living in the house he had bought when he moved to D.C. “Hi!” She shoots him a smile and notes that he looks tired, but he doesn’t look sad anymore. Not like the last time she had seen him. “I know it’s a surprise, can we come in?”

Marcus looks over his shoulder where you are holding the baby in your arms and he frowns, turning back to the couple. “I, uh, I was making dinner and-” You step closer, “it’s okay baby.” You tell him, knowing he needs this. Marcus turns to look at you, mouthing “are you sure?” and when you nod, he opens the door. “Come in. This is my wife.” He says your name as he introduces you, “and our son, Zac.” He says and Teresa’s eyes widen as she sees you holding the baby. “Wife? Son? You work fast, Pike.” Patrick smirks and reaches to take Teresa’s coat off. Marcus shuts the door and he raises his eyebrows when he sees Teresa is pregnant.

“Oh, uh, our first.” Teresa admits, flushing slightly as she rubs her hand over her stomach. “We didn’t know that you had gotten married. Congratulations.” She offers, looking over at you curiously. You aren’t with the Bureau or she would have recognized your name. “When was your son born?”

“Last month. We have a daughter too. She’s 18 months.” He reveals and Teresa raises her eyebrows in shock. “You really do work fast, Pike.” Jane chuckles and Marcus nods curtly, guiding them into the living room, his hand on your lower back and he kisses your hairline.

You sit down next to Marcus, watching the woman who had turned down your husband. In many ways, you owe her a debt of gratitude. Without her choosing the annoying looking man beside her, you would have never had the life you have right now. Even though she had hurt Marcus, you are proud that you had brought joy and happiness back to his life and hope he has no regrets.

Marcus wants to know why the hell Teresa and Jane are in his home in D.C and he gets the answer not too long after everyone has a drink and your son in his rocker. “We wanted to apologize. For what we did.” Teresa explains and Marcus frowns, “like…breaking up with me?” Teresa reaches for Jane’s hand, “well, yes, but for how I broke up with you. I should’ve been honest about my feelings for him and that wasn’t fair to you. It’s been bothering me a lot since I got pregnant and we came to D.C for the FBI and I wanted to clear the air.” She confesses and Marcus reaches for your hand. “I was devastated at first. Couldn’t believe you just left me and I had gotten us a home, planned a future, and with a call it was all gone.” Teresa ducks her head and Jane swallows harshly, guilt in his eyes. “But I owe you so much gratitude for that phone call. A week later I ended up in a bar and met the love of my life. Your selfishness led to me finding everything I ever wanted. She makes my world spin around and we have two beautiful children. I’m happy. Deliriously so and I owe that to you breaking my heart. Thank you. I’m glad it worked out for you both. I wish you the best because you paved the way for me to get the most beautiful, smart, sexy, and utterly incredible woman to sit next to me.”

Your smile is proud and you can’t help but lean in and press your lips to Marcus’s cheek, Zac starting to fuss in your arms. “And I owe you for giving him the freedom for us to meet and fall in love.” You won’t tell her the entire tale, she doesn’t deserve it, but you can tell she understands you know everything that happened between them. “I’m going to go feed the baby, sweetheart.” You tell Marcus softly, feeling Zac start to root around for your nipple. A sure sign he wants to eat. “Talk as long as you need. I can finish up dinner.”

Marcus squeezes your hand, “I can handle dinner.” He says and Teresa rubs her bump, “you are happy and that - that makes me happy.” She smiles softly and Marcus sighs, “look, I don’t know why you came here. Actually, I’d assume it’s to see how your selfish actions affected me. You probably hoped I’d still be alone and miserable and pining for you. That isn’t the case. I’m happier than ever and I refuse to lessen your guilt because what you did was shitty and selfish even if it led to me finding a beautiful life. I am not here to make you feel better. So, if you don’t mind, I have to cook dinner for my family and my beautiful wife needs help.” He says, standing up, and Patrick follows, “come on, Teresa. It’s time to go. I wish you all the best, Pike.” He says, holding his hand out. Marcus shakes his hand, his grip a little tighter than it should be. “I really am sorry Marcus. I’m glad you found what you wanted.” She says after she stands and Marcus guides them down the hall to the front door. “Thanks for stopping by.” He says and they shuffle out. He doesn’t take more than a moment to shut the door behind them and he strides though the home to the kitchen where you are feeding Zac.

“I’m sorry about that, baby. They - fucking assholes wanted me to make them feel better about their selfish actions.” He shakes his head, “but fuck them. They deserve each other. I’ve got the most incredible woman in the world.” He murmurs, leaning in to kiss you. “I love you.” He declares softly and you smile, cradling the baby. “I love you too. Now, I believe I was promised dinner.” You tease and he chuckles, kissing your forehead while he strokes Zac’s cheek.

“Chicken parm coming right up for my gorgeous wife.” He winks and makes his way onto the kitchen. He takes a moment to lean against the counter. He’d often imagined confronting the woman who broke his heart and ruined his plans before he met you but now, he doesn’t care. He has everything he ever wanted and he got to thank Teresa and Jane for their mistake leading to his dream. He is happy and ready to continue enjoying his life, all thanks to that fateful night in that bar. Life happens for a reason.

#pedro pascal #marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike smut #marcus pike imagine #marcus pike fanfiction

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angelickks · 22 days ago

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💿 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝑹𝑼𝑰𝑵 𝑴𝑬¹¹¹

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||

a soundtrack of absolute chaos and filth. lyric-inspired smut drabble collection. pedro pascal! characters x fem!reader nsfw, mdni 18+

main pedro pascal mlist!

𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐀

01. LES — Joel Miller

♬⋆.˚“Girl, I wanna know, are you ready to cry? ʻCause I'm no good.” He tells you he’s bad for you. Then makes you come so hard you forget your own name. emotionally unavailable sex • self-destruction • filthy confessions disguised as fucking

02. OFF TO THE RACES — Harry Castillo

♬⋆.˚“My old man is a bad man, but I can’t deny the way he holds my hand…” He pays for dinner, your shoes, and the bruise on your thigh. sugar daddy dynamics • power play • possessive luxury

03. SHE WILL BE LOVED — Francisco “Frankie” Morales

♬⋆.˚“I’ve had you so many times, but somehow I want more.” He always thinks he’s not enough. So when you show up again, he fucks you like a man starving. possesive!frankie • friends with benefits and feelings • pure desperation

04. NORMAN FUCKING ROCKWELL — Javier Peña

♬⋆.˚“You fucked me so good I almost said ‘I love you.’” He’s chaotic. You’re worse. You fight. You fuck. You stay.

05. TOUCH TANK — Harry Castillo

♬⋆.˚“He’s so pretty when he goes down on me.” The kind of man who tastes luxury and makes you beg for more.

𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐁

06. PYRAMIDS — Din Djarin

♬⋆.˚“You say it’s big, but you take it—Ride cowgirl.” The helmet stays on. You don’t complain.

07. LOVE IS STRANGE — Francisco “Frankie” Morales

♬⋆.˚“How do you call your loverboy? Baby, oh baby…” He’s always at your beck and call

08. FATHER FIGURE — Joel Miller

♬⋆.˚“I’d love to be your daddy. Anything you have in mind.” He’s too old. You’re too eager. It works.

09. BABYDOLL — Francisco “Frankie” Morales

♬⋆.˚“I can’t move on, babydoll.” He begs with his mouth, not his words.

10. DEVIL’S BACKBONE — Joel Miller

♬⋆.˚“I've fallen for someone who's nothing like you. He's raised on the edge of the devil's backbone” He’s bad. You want him anyway.

11. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE — Harry Castillo

♬⋆.˚“Don’t bring me to tears when I just did my makeup so nice.” You look too pretty to cry—but he makes you anyway.

12. ULTRAVIOLENCE — Marcus Acacius

♬⋆.˚“He hit me and it felt like a kiss.” He’s war incarnate. You kneel anyway.

𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐂

13. TOO SWEET — Javier Peña

♬⋆.˚“You’re too sweet for me. I take my whiskey neat.” You’re soft. He’s not. That’s why it works.

14. ME AND MR. JONES(MILLER) — Joel Miller

♬⋆.˚“Nobody stands between me and my man.” You’re his little secret, until you’re the only thing he can think about.

15. SILVER SPRINGS — Marcus Pike

♬⋆.˚“You’ll never get away from the sound of the woman that loves you.” You stayed in his sheets. Even after you left.

16. YOU’RE SO VAIN — Jack “Whiskey” Daniels

♬⋆.˚“You’re so vain, you probably think this song is about you.” He’s smug, Southern, and sinfully good between your thighs—and he knows it.

17. THE CHAIN — Clint Flood

♬⋆.˚“If you don’t love me now, you will never love me again.” He says he’s done with you. But God help the man who touches you next.

𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐧' 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬: 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧

𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐊𝐒

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iamasaddie · 2 months ago

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1. Criminal Paris. Javi has been trying to catch the quiet killer that’s been always a step ahead of him. When he does catch him, it’s because of a lust-filled mistake. He sees Clint fucking you, Javi’s informant, in a dark alleyway and he’s not sure what he wants to do next.

2. Ancient Paris. Acacius is well aware of the prizes his men take for themselves after conquering another city. But when he sees you in his loyal soldier’s arms, he really wants to be the one to claim you.

3. Rivaling Paris. Professor Reed couldn’t be jealous of his brother. It was illogical. He had a stable job, a gorgeous wife, friends. Yet, when he sees you on the arm of his deadbeat twin Lucien that barely has a couple hundreds to his name, he can’t keep the envy at bay.

4. Spoiled Paris. Harry had promised Dieter that he’d always take care of him. Would always look after his little brother whatever it takes. ‘What’s mine is yours’, he’d always say. But what happens when Dieter wants something that money can’t buy? Harry’s new girlfriend, you.

5. Undercover Paris. Someone was leaking secret data out and Tim got fed up with it. He became paranoid, suspecting every person in his unit including you, his secretary. Yet, he didn’t expect to find you in bed with an agent he fired years ago, learning that you both went rogue.

6. Family Paris. Marcus was good for you. He was kind, sweet, caring. He gave you so much love and adoration. But he just didn’t have that sharp edge his dad, Joel, did.

7. Secret Paris. Two agents who were very good at their job got assigned to one case; and that case was you. What happens when the lines between what’s right and wrong blur, and hatred becomes something else?

8. Flying Paris. You shouldn’t have stepped inside the cockpit when you heard the pilots arguing. You knew Frankie and Din rarely got along. And when you got caught in middle of the crossfire, they used you as a white flag until the plane landed.

9. Royal Paris. Oberyn thought he could have anyone he wanted whenever he wanted. But when you refuse joining his orgy in favor of spending time with the stable boy Zachariah, he’s proven wrong. Instead of holding a grudge, he decides to visit you both at the stables, and he is not disappointed.

————

thanks to @fifers05 for coming up with the most brilliant meme ever that inspired me to do this

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kedsandtubesocks · 6 months ago

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cosmic love

Marcus Acacius x F!Reader x Marcus Pike

summary: a missing statue, a handsome ancient roman general, an equally handsome museum visitor - and you caught in the magical (and wonderful) mess of it all

tags & warnings: 18+ ONLY MDNI, MAJOR GLADIATOR 2 SPOILERS. time travel AU, magic elements, pining & yearning, fluff but with touches of angst, implied age gap (Acacius being older than both reader & Marcus), light use of gendered language, bi!Marcus Acacius & bi!Marcus Pike, brief mention of death & existential questioning, spicy themes, smut (threesome, m!oral, one moment of spitting) M/M/F & M/M dynamics, polyamorous exploration that leads to eventual poly relationship, no use of y/n

word count: 7.5k

a/n: I’m sorry I blame the gladiator statue pics we got & yeah now here we are lmao, this fic literally wouldn’t be here without @pedgito & @perotovar - i can’t thank you two enough for all the help i love y’all tremendously, also a sweet special tag for @morallyinept ily too… And lastly - thank you for reading, you’re what makes this so special and magical ♡

The statue that arrived with the newly updated Roman exhibition at your museum has gained attention.

As a guide you enjoy seeing all the new faces here to check out the freshly opened installation. The heightened foot traffic has kept you and your co-workers busy, but it’s been a nice welcome.

Your eyes drift to the statue now.

General Marcus Acacius stands slightly weathered yet still commanding in his bronze glory, towering among the room with all the grace a powerful Roman Army commander would be.

You learned he conquered countless territories and countries in the name of the Ancient Roman Empire. Eventually though, he was caught in a conspiracy to overthrow the ruling emperors and died within the eyes of the coliseum, the whisper of a gladiator’s death.

Now you readily explain this all to tour groups like the one you currently guide.

“Oh, he’s cute.” One of the elementary school girls currently giggles to her friend. The other school children gasp around her, teasing her.

“It’s okay. He is pretty handsome, isn’t he?” You reassure her. The girl seems bashful but relieved at your agreement.

It wasn’t just you. A local internet influencer stopped by and even made a video about the statue being her dream guy.

Even as a statue, the General is eye-catching.

The bronze figure captured his likeness bewitchingly detailing the soft curls of his hair, a lovely sharp nose, mountainous strong broad shoulders, and a pensive stare looking out to a distant horizon. He’s a man of unwavering beauty.

You constantly want to smack yourself for being wistful over a piece of art.

“He’s definitely the most attractive statue I’ve seen.” A familiar smooth sweet voice melts into the room’s quiet softness making your heart jump.

Approaching you with a molten smile and eyes twinkling in the low museum lights, Marcus doesn’t seem real at times.

A regular visitor, you first met him when he accidentally crashed one of your tours. Wholesomely thoughtful, but also being a charming yet slightly know it all, he was quick to join in on commentary of the paintings. With his Disney prince-like smile and earnest eager energy, you couldn’t dare shoo him away.

Now you happily seek his company.

“He’s become like a hot new celebrity here.” Joking, you nudge towards the General’s striking figure.

“I can see why.” Marcus whistles low. “Like look at those shoulders.”

You snicker as a bubbling fondness swells in you.

“He unfortunately died a tragic death.” Marcus comments, cloudy and mournful.

“Yeah, I heard. That means this guy is a bad boy.” You nod.

Marcus snickers at your comment then playfully nudges you with his elbow.

Later, all your co-workers beg you to ask him out to coffee.

“He’s totally got the hots for you!” Your favorite co worker often tells you, but you wave her off.

Marcus is just sweet. He’s kind and considerate, engaging to all the workers here. Besides, you don’t want to assume he possibly likes you and maybe ruin the precious friendship you have with him.

However, your favorite coworker shows up a few days later with a solution for your stale love life.

With a cheeky bright grin, she hands you the cutest pink velvet pouch in the break room.

“It’s called a love wish tea.” She declares.

She grabbed a pack of them at the local occult shop after the lovely witch who owned the place swore it worked.

“It calls in your heart’s desires and hey, it worked for me! That’s why I still have a pack left over!” She proudly recommends.

You roll your eyes but appreciate the gift.

Shoving it into your bag, you don’t give it much thought.

Then the cooler cozier weather settles in, the perfect time for museum dates. Strolling along the floors keeping a watch on everyone it’s hard not to notice the intake of couples. Some are intertwined beside each other staring fondly at a painting together, while others happily take photos of the other being silly.

A taste of loneliness fills you, but gently you sweep it away focusing back on work. Especially since tonight you’ll be locking up.

Already craving some extra caffeine, you glare seeing the break room depleted of any sweet salvation.

The small velvet pink bag in your bag immediately comes to mind. And at this point you think, why not. it will at least keep you awake.

Immediately out of the pouch the tea bag releases a soothing smell, a rich floral blending with delicate touches of a fruit scent, possibly pomegranate. You’re now excited just to taste it, love wish or not.

The tea steeps in your tumbler cup allowing a faint rose color to float into your water. Of course the tea is pretty too.

And the taste? Rich, lovely and warm, like a romantic valentine-like themed drink. It doesn’t reward you with a sensation of being in love, but instead you feel at peace.

After a few sips, you return to the floor.

There, Marcus sits on one of the benches in the Roman exhibition.

Curled over a leather sketchbook, he’s every bit the personification of a scholarly beautiful artist straight out of a romance novel. His face glanced up then back down to his sketch. Diligent concentration paints over his gorgeous face.

Cautious, yet eager, you approach.

He’s sketching a portrait of the General. The sharp edges of the charcoal, the smudges meant to mimic shadows, along with capturing the striking slopes of the General’s features - it’s fantastic.

“You’re amazing!”

Your compliment causes him to jolt slightly spooked, and you rapidly apologize. Once he catches sight of you, Marcus sighs with a dreamy relieved sleepy grin.

“Just sketching, nothing too crazy.”

You take a seat besides him on the bench.

“You captured his likeness so well already.” You’re in awe at the sketch.

Marcus laughs a bit nervously. It’s hard trying not to swoon at the light rose blush coloring his cheeks. He’s stunning.

“I bet General Acacius would be flattered.” You grin then glance back to the statue.

Marcus turns to follow your sight.

“Nah, he strikes me as a big relief fan.” Marcus comments thoughtfully.

The bad art joke isn’t lost on you, and you snicker beside him. Among the giggles you catch Marcus staring at you, the softest boyish grin tugging his lips.

The world melts into a splendid focus all on him.

This isn’t good. You can’t be thinking about possibly leaning in to kiss cute visitors while you’re still on the clock.

“Hey… so I’ve been meaning to ask if maybe we could-”

His phone ringing cuts Marcus off causing you to shoot up from the bench. Jumping on the call, Marcus seems apologetic and almost sad as you wave him bye to him.

Closing time approaches. You and your co-workers do one final look around the rooms. Marcus is nowhere to be found.

The Roman exhibition now sits sleepily still.

The dim glow coats the general’s statue, a glistening chopper. Even with the chips and weathering of time, he stands glorious as you stroll closer.

He really must have been something fierce for the empire to immortalize him in such grand fashion.

“You must’ve been a pretty amazing man.” You mutter mainly to yourself, gently touching the base of the elevated display platform he rests upon.

You wish him a good night and head home. You try not to think of stunning statues or cute museum visitors.

Next morning you’re woken up by a call from work, a frantic one.

“The fucking hot ass statue is missing.” Your co-worker hisses.

You don’t believe it till you see it.

But you’re knocked breathless at the sight.

General Marcus Acacius is missing. The once grand presence he added to the room is absent, vanished, as if plucked from the air itself.

It’s almost unnerving to see the once elevated space now hauntingly vacant.

Chaos brews humming all around. Copes scurry around everywhere, and plenty of people stand outside curious to what’s going on. A controlled whirlwind fills your museum. Various officers keep the scene roped off.

The museum decides to close for the rest of the week to let the police handle as much as they can. You adore the museum truly, but there’s one spot you love the most. Right by the break room leading from various different doors is an outdoor courtyard. It’s become a place of solace.

The bubbling dread has you stepping out here one more time. The sky above looms with a cold front approaching and casts a somber shadow over the space even more.

The shrubs rustle off the side among the thick greenery, and you figure it’s a bird.

“It’s you.” Until a new voice speaks to you. Rich, heavily accented and smooth, it startles you.

You wonder if you’re imagining things.

The man is dressed in Roman attire, elaborate white armor adorned with ornate gold pieces. Glorious graying curls frame his ethereal aged face.

How did a cosplayer manage to sneak in?

He stares so directly at you it frightens you a bit.

“You’re the one who’s voice I heard…” he continues to speak. “It was like I was asleep, drifting away. Then you woke me.”

“Sir, how did you manage to get in here?” You ask, trying to stay as calm as you can.

“I do not know. I simply woke and found myself in this strange place.” He explains with a furrowed brow.

You wonder…is this a strange bit the museum is maybe trying to pull off, and they didn’t tell you.

He steps forward now, and instinctively you walk back cautious. The man must take in your reaction because his face, his handsome face that now looks vaguely familiar, frowns. He holds his hands up defensively.

“I mean no harm. I just need to know what happened to me.”

Someone calls out your name, sounds like your boss. “Come on let’s head out.”

The stranger repeats it and how smooth his voice is, your name rolls off his tongue.

“I am General Marcus Acacius, and I am in need of your assistance.”

That makes your brain scratch.

“Wait, what?” You turn to him confused. “What did you say your name was again?”

He repeats it firmer.

Marcus Acacius.

As in… General Marcus Acacius.

There’s no way.

“Oh, so you’re an actor.” You deadpan.

“I…am confused? I’m no performer. I promise you that.” He almost sounds huffy.

You gotta give him credit. The guy stays in character pretty well.

“You shouldn’t be here, actor or not.” You tell him, heading back inside. Of course this man follows you in.

At the sight of the glass door and the movement of it, he pauses stunned, like he can’t process it. You almost want to laugh.

“You’re pretty good, even though you say you’re not an actor.” You tease.

He frowns hard not enjoying that.

“Either tell me what is going on or I will find a man who will.” He snaps loud and your eyes go wide.

His memorizing face scrunches up in frustration. Dark amber eyes are coated in fierce anger.

“I wake up in a strange place filled with artifacts and see people dressed strange. What is going on?” His voice rises confused, panicking.

Either he’s the most amazing actor ever or…

No.

It can’t be.

Too many thoughts swirl in your head like angry bees trying to make your brain explode.

You need a minute. So you grab the mystery man’s arm, practically dragging him to follow you.

“Excuse you? Where are you taking me?” He demands.

“Somewhere safe.” You half lie.

Unfortunately your boss stops you. His worried eyes catch sight of the man in the armor. You’re quick to explain he’s an actor, upset about the missing statue.

“I am not a-”

You shush the strange man harshly. Your boss, hesitant and worried, surveys him.

“He shouldn’t be here.” Your boss says firm.

“Yup, and I was just showing him the way out.” You happily explain.

Thankfully your boss gets called away, and you make your escape.

“Are you abducting me?” He demands harder.

“Look, I’m the only one here who might be able to help you.” You hiss back.

“I am the commanding General of the Roman armies.” His voice blooms stronger when you reach the lobby. “I will find my way around.”

You swallow hard. A small but chaotic idea quickly jumps into your mind, and you decide to put it into action.

So, you hold the exit door open for him. The man nods to you, then strolls out. You follow him.

The towering skyscrapers, the rush of the cars, the stretching concrete roads, it becomes an overwhelming sight while the man whips his face around eyes wide and in shock. His face falls, aghast and disoriented.

That unrealistic conclusion you thought of - you think it might not be so realistic. Because the man turns to you wearing petrified horror, terrified confusion of a man in an unknown world that no actor could truly capture.

Reality smacks into you like a bag of nails.

This man is truly the great General Marcus Acacius.

The missing statue now full man summoned to life.

Someone yells your name.

Your heart drops. Of course Marcus arrives at the worst time. He jogs up to you dressed in what looks like a gym outfit.

“I heard about the statue.” He says worried then his eyes immediately grow cloudy and confused as he catches sight of the strange Roman dressed man.

“Is he… a friend of yours?” Marcus asks hesitantly.

“It’s complicated.” You blurt, panicked.

General Acacius stands still very stunned trying to take this new modern world in. Stumbling, he returns to your side, clutching your arm like you’re the only one who can steady him.

“I…” Acacius begins then stops mid word, still trying to process a reply. Until he catches sight of Marcus.

“You,” The man surveys Marcus with narrowing eyes. “You seem familiar as well.”

This is getting out of hand.

“Okay time to go.” You rapidly try diffusing the situation, moving General Acacius away from Marcus.

“Wait, what’s going on?” Marcus questions, persistently following behind while you head to the parking lot.

You scramble out a lie that the strange man is an old friend you ran into who just came back from a play.

“I told you, I’m no performer.” Acacius insists still. You also discover he’s built like a wall and trying to wrangle him into the car proves to be Herculean.

Swiftly, Marcus firmly snaps out your name. His tone is different, urgent and enforcing. It turns you into a statue yourself.

Comedically, you’re practically halfway shoving Acacius into the car but now stand frozen. He notices the shift in tension quickly.

“Are you frightened of him?” Acacius mutters concern, surprisingly concerned. “Because I can dispose of this man.”

You shake your head no.

Swallowing hard, you finally look Marcus dead in the eyes.

“If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.” You admit.

“Try me.” Marcus rebuffs, serious as steel.

So you sigh, what more do you have to lose now?

“General, can you please tell him who you are.” You then allow Acacius to speak for himself.

The ancient Roman clears his throat and announces his full title and name. The younger and modern Marcus’s face twists confused with a hint of concern.

Suddenly his eyes go wide. He catches on fast, figures it out quicker than you did that’s for sure.

This cute casual museum visitor you have a slight crush on is now your accomplice and partner in crime.

At least…now you don't have to deal with an ancient Roman General being brought back to life from stone alone.

— °˖➴ —

Marcus’s apartment is lush and cozy, filled with so many books and records. The warm walls, sleek modern design, make your place feel like a hole in the wall. Having a roommate, you couldn’t just bring home a very confused man out of time. So thankfully Marcus offered his home.

Now you’ve practically been living here with General Acacius trying to figure out what happened.

Acacius takes things rather well, almost in stride. Fitting for a general that explored new territories and had to face the unknown chaos of war.

The fridge fascinates him the most. You had to stop yourself from laughing seeing him open and close the refrigerator door like a child wondering if the food inside would disappear.

Marcus has a vice for candy, specifically sour ones. Seeing General Acacius try one and the disgusted face of twisted torture is a memory you’ve replayed over multiple times.

But unfortunately no one can figure out what brought the statue to life and him here.

“I’m a man. Not a statue.” The roman general clarifies.

“You are now, but we gotta figure out why.” You sigh exhausted while Marcus readies breakfast for everyone.

He’s been an incredible host. It’s been hard not lingering on how domestic and warm he is within his own space.

Especially when there’s also an archaic man looking just as handsome walking around in a tight white t shirt Marcus lent him.

Surrounded by two unbelievably gorgeous men has been a double edged sword, a blessing and curse.

General Acacius reminds you of a mountain, ever powerful, sturdy and unwavering with the change of seasons. Yet there’s still an open vulnerability to him. You’ve seen it in how grateful he’s been and how eagerly he’s tried absorbing all about this new world.

Whereas Marcus reminds you of a river, beautifully flowing, always adaptable. But he surprises you with how direct and firm he’s been, almost protective in keeping you and Acacius safe.

You also don’t miss the way Marcus’s eyes sometimes flicker to sneak a glance at the older General. You can’t blame him.

Acacius fills out modern clothes sinfully. Watching him navigate everything with a certain poised grace is attractive. While Marcus has become endearing and patient, incredibly welcoming to this new hiccup in his life. You haven't felt this comfortable with someone in so long.

Truly a river and mountain now exist in your life, and you want to stay in their atmosphere more and more.

But you can’t get tangled in the budding emotions growing for these men.

You need to figure out how to help Acacius.

“Once I get back to the office, I’m hoping I can try to find something that could maybe help.” Marcus clarifies while grabbing his work bag.

You’ve learned much about him these past few days. Like he enjoys a good run, used to be a swimmer, has a soft spot for strays, surprisingly loves football -

Also that he’s a well known FBI agent.

You realized you never once asked what he did for work, and you’ve known him for months.

“You have feelings for that man.” Acacius announces once it’s you and him alone in the apartment. You almost spit out your drink.

“We’re friends, that’s all.” You huff.

This Marcus doesn’t seem to believe you, and gives you a very modern dry eyed side glare that makes you roll your eyes.

“I’ve seen the way he watches you, the look of a man in love.” Acacius continues.

“Well I see the way he stares at you too, pal.” You reply back before you can even realize what you said.

Your words do their job stunning the general.

“He is too young for an old man like me.” Acacius rapidly fires back.

“You’re not that old.” You clarify. “If anything you’re distinguished, mature.”

“You are too kind, dear lady.” He chuckles.

You ignore how fast warmth spreads through you a dangerous wildfire just hearing him.

Your phone ringing makes poor Acacius jump. Though, it’s progress from the confused shout he used to yell whenever the phones rang.

Your boss explains that unfortunately the museum will have to stay closed the rest of the month for further investigations, and everyone’s information has been sent in to check for any suspicious activities.

It sounded serious.

Dead serious because after that phone call, you get called by the police department to head in for a few questions.

You have nothing to hide, except you did.

Because in theory you technically did and didn’t steal the statue. You just know the cops wouldn’t take your explanation.

The interrogation room you sit in is coated in a bleak serious air making you fidget worried. This is also the first time you left General Acacius alone at the apartment and that worry picks at you.

Then two officers walk in. One an older distinguished woman who gives you a nod then the other… a rather striking man.

Hawkish nose, clean shaven face, kind eyes, he smiles soft at you.

Marcus.

The agent that walked in is Marcus.

You try not to stare, but it’s hard. Dressed in an official suit and tie, the badge he wears, he sits across for you a striking professional handsome agent.

The woman introduces herself as one of the head local detectives of the case and the man accompanying her is from the FBI, specifically the head of the art crimes division.

Marcus wasn’t just an agent but someone that important.

You can’t deny how extra attractive it makes him.

“Agent Marcus Pike.” Polite and sweet he outstretches his arm to shake your hand like you’ve never met him before.

The questions are very basic.

Where were you the last time you saw the statue? Do you remember any recent guest that stopped by that maybe seemed suspicious?

You answer as truthfully and as best as you can, while also hiding the ancient Roman sized man truth away.

“Funny enough,” Agent Pike comments. “It does seem like this statue just seems to have…I don’t know, grown legs and walked out itself.”

You weakly laugh at his joke. You don’t miss the tug of his lips trying not to grin.

You leave the room as if you stepped out of a strange pocket dimension. Then again these past few days have felt strange and disorienting.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were the head of some FBI art division?!” You let Marcus have it when you both return back to his apartment.

“Is that dangerous?” Acacius asks curiously.

“I don’t know.” You sigh.

“No…This is good.” Marcus clarifies. He even picked up apology pastries. General Acacius greedily snags a cheese danish and moans in pure delight once he takes a bite.

It’s hard to ignore how incredibly sexy he sounded.

“It means I can keep looking in my records for any previous instances of situations like this, or if there’s any leads on the case I’ll know.” Marcus patiently explains.

That calms you enough.

Days pass, and Acacius grows restless.

He doesn’t sleep well, snapping at you and Marcus often more. He mourns the loss of a world that’s passed, of a wife he lost. The grief comes in waves. You and Marcus try comforting him, but Acacius reminds you of a caged tiger, restless and fanged. You understand. Being cooped up in a strange home in a strange world must be exhausting.

So Marcus and you agree to have a nice weekend out with him.

General Acacius fidgets in the cozy cream knit sweater that stretches over his broad body, but damn does he look incredible. So does Marcus in his scholarly sleek coat.

This trip also works as another opportunity to do more investigating. The nearby bookstore is the first stop. Acacius gasps seeing the stretch of books.

“Pretty impressive, yeah?” Marcus smirks, and you grin agreeing. He decides to take a look at the art history books here for any information he might have missed.

You unfortunately get side tracked with the many books in front of you and slightly wander away from Acacius when one catches your eyes.

But you quickly find your way back to him.

The elder Marcus stands stunned like a ghost among the classical literature holding a thick encyclopedia.

“I knew of what happened to Rome after you and Pike told me. But seeing the grand colosseum like this… it’s a specter of ruins now.” He mutters while taking in the photo of the ancient landmark.

“I am glad. There should be no need for more death matches.” His voice weighs with the heaviness of centuries past.

You agree, happy he shuts the book and returns it back. You’re about to dive into the Ancient Rome section yourself now until he speaks again.

“What if I am not the same man these books speak of?” The older Marcus questions hollowed.

That stuns you.

“What if the man who died many years ago… is not me?” His voice wavers.

Existential dread looms off him a dark storm growing stronger.

Marcus turns the corner smiling bright. But quickly he immediately notices the shift in atmosphere, and his face falls as he mouths asking what’s wrong.

You let General Acacius speak from the heart.

“What if… I am not me? What if I am not the real Marcus Acacius?”

His face is weighted with fear, raw and open making him appear lost and so small for someone powerful as him.

“I believe it’s you.” You reassure him gentle. “I’m sure Marcus does too. Besides… who says you can’t be the same man?”

There are pieces of yourself that you’ve left with people, even some bits of you have gotten snagged in certain places or tied to certain objects. Who says a piece of Marcus Acacius truly resided in the statue and simply woke up. And if that’s the case, then that means he’s as real as ever.

You explain all of this best as you can to Acacius. Those deep steady eyes of his waver transforming into molten earth. Your hand moves down to squeeze his stronger large warm hand.

He squeezes back tight.

“Besides the man that died is still you too. You’re allowed to be both.” Marcus jumps in with the most tender voice

“That does not sound true.” Acacius mutters.

As modern has he’s slowly become, you think it still might be too hard to explain dimensional or reality theory.

“This philosopher I read about once said something along the lines of, if you think, therefore you are.” Marcus clarifies. “You exist here and now. And sometimes that’s all that matters.”

You realize both you and Marcus slowly have huddled around General Acacius. You on one side and Marcus on the other, barricade to support your General as much as you or Marcus can.

Acacius sighs, watery, taking it all in.

Your heart aches for him. It overwhelms you, causing you to gently rest your head against his shoulder and letting your hand rest on his back.

Marcus also moves closer, placing his hand right besides yours, gingerly touching your hand.

Among the books you and these two rest simply in the stillness of the moment. You feel something hook deep in your chest, a feeling you can’t fully express.

After, Marcus treats everyone to his favorite taco truck. It's infectious seeing Acacius’s spirits brighten again. He again moans delicious when he takes his first bite. You don’t miss the awkward cough Marcus makes.

But the tacos are amazing and the cooler weather covers everything in a comforting dreamy cloud.

“I want to explore this world as much as I can.” Acacius declares with resolution and shining gilded hope.

So you start bringing the Roman general out with you more.

The museum is still being investigated, so you take the chance to enjoy the days, especially now with Marcus Acacius by your side. He enjoys your smaller apartment, becomes a fan of cooking shows fast.

Marcus and you discovered he isn’t big on sushi but has a notorious sweet tooth. Acacius embraces everything now with more gusto, a vibrant curiosity about many things, especially food. It’s endearing.

General Acacius also proves to be a lovely companion when you go grocery shopping.

“So many spices.” He says in awe in the aisle.

More people arrive and you try maneuvering your cart through the traffic. General Acacius catches on quick. Staying close to you, he places a comforting hand at your lower back and the other against yours in the cart. Shifting his body against yours, he’s a protective shield until you’re out of the thicket.

It sends the wildest hum of sparks throughout your body that persistently stays. Acacius stays firmly beside the rest of the trip.

For a man out of time, he’s open for conversation. The check out worker seems to blatantly ignore you while she happily and very openly flirts with him.

You don’t say much, ignoring the possessive emerald eyed sense of jealousy threatening to rise. He bids the flirty cashier a good day along with an elegant head nod. You keep quiet heading back to the car.

“That woman, she gave me a strange note with numbers on it.” General Acacius comments cautious, almost worried about what they could be.

You almost trip on the way out.

“Her number, she gave you her phone number.” You explain simply.

Of course you have to elaborate what that means and how it’s a modern way of signaling someone is attracted to you.

“Truly?” His handsome aged face scrunches up confused.

“What can I say? In any year you’re a catch.” You try not to sound wistful.

“I’m an old man not from this time. I have nothing worth for anyone to desire me.” Now he sounds dejected, somber and serious.

“Okay, besides being absolutely one of the most gorgeous men ever, you’re kind. Incredibly loyal and brave. Anyone would be lucky to have you.” Earnesty floats off you.

His face drops, your words finally settling within him. The soft streams of grays in his luscious curled hair and rustic beard, the beautiful scars he wears that tell of his victories…

The statue truly was not able to capture the magnetic pull of this man.

Acacius’s eyes flicker across your face. You swear something shimmers in his deep earth eyes. His gaze flickers down for a split moment, as if he’s glancing at your lips.

Then your phone rings with a text, and you sigh.

This precious bubble you’ve been in, this newly woven existence with these two gorgeous men, is one you want to stay in forever. It’s warm, easy, and feels too nice to leave.

But work eventually crashes in.

The museum finally reopens but with the Roman exhibit closed still. The missing art has brought in more foot traffic to the museum. But what surprises you is seeing Marcus at work now while he works. You and him share sweet secret smiles to each other.

Even with work getting busy for you and him, you’ve been texting with Marcus frequently. It’s even been amusing being on the phone with him and Acacius cries out surprised hearing your voice.

Your mind drifts to them again as you daze off a bit at work.

“So, did you ever drink that tea I gave you?” Your favorite coworker asks, interrupting your daydream.

The confusion must be evident on your face.

“Ya know… the sweet love wish tea?” She grins like a pleased cat that’s about to catch a canary.

An abrupt realization barrels right into you, a fierce horned bull almost knocking you out at the knees. You can’t believe a possible magical tea maybe brought a statue to life. But with that statue now a very real ancient Roman man you’ve been harboring - anything is possible now.

“Can you tell me where the shop is that you got it?” You rapidly ask her.

Your next day off you head down there immediately, not even taking either of your Marcus boys.

The sweetest shop owner greets you warm and welcoming. You compliment her lovely silvery lavender hair.

“Oh it’s to hide the grays.” She winks, and you grin.

But the nervousness rises because you don’t even know how to approach the question you have.

“Something seems to be bothering you.” Of course she notices but speaks with a gentle tone.

Your heavy sigh must say it all. Very sweetly she pulls out a stool by the register and settles in waiting to hear your story.

Even with her welcoming smile, the hesitation pulls at you. But you manage to gently explain what happened without revealing the dizzying truth.

“So I drank the love wish tea. And something… someone I never imagined would come into my life did. So now I don’t know if there’s a way I could probably send him back to what, to where, he was.” You tell her.

The shop owner hums in deep thought, crossing her hands over her chest nodding.

“Is it a ghost? Did you call in a spirit? Are you in love with a ghost?” She asks flat out without hesitation, and you almost laugh.

She’s half right in a way.

“I’m thinking…possibly the one thing that came to mind that I would do first is to do an unbinding spell. Whatever is keeping this man here, the separation of that would be what sends him back.” She says jumping off her chair, waving at you to follow her through the shop.

You quickly scurry behind her.

Grabbing a pack of two candles, the ritual she describes is simple enough. Tying a string around the two candles, lighting them until they burn, which in the process would burn the thread, theoretically severing the tie of Acacius to this world.

“And you said it was the love wish tea you drank, yes?”

You nod, and she nods back in understanding.

“What that tea is meant to do is call in your heart’s desires, simply allow the universe to bring whatever magic it seems fit to your life…But it also isn’t doing it forcefully.” She explains.

The tea is known to work because it calls in someone who desires the same thing you do, almost like a little nudge in the matchmaking department, a magic magnet.

“It works because someone else is also receptive. But of course, there is no need to stay with whoever is brought to you.”

Her words sink into a deep corner of your heart. You wonder if that meant Marcus Acacius longed for a better future, and it’s why the tea worked on him.

Thanking her graciously, you take the candles and a few cute stickers she has by the counter.

“I hope everything works out for you, gorgeous.” Her warm smile becomes a comforting hug.

You hope so too.

But the way your stomach twists, a part of you realizes… what if you don’t want Marcus Acacius to leave?

It’s selfish - but you want this trio of you, him and Marcus Pike, to last as long as it possibly can.

Driving to Marcus’s apartment, guilt and selfishness fight each other tooth and nail. You don’t know if this unbinding spell would work, but it would be a start.

With the spare key Marcus gave you, you let yourself in.

There on the couch you catch the quickest glimpse of both men heavily making out with the elder Marcus greedily holding onto Agent Pike’s sharp jaw. You wonder if maybe you’re seeing things, but the image knocks you breathless.

The younger and modern Marcus, who halfway was on the elder General’s lap immediately, bolts away as if electrocuted.

On the table, you spot two glasses of wine.

They both stare at you, caught red handed. Immediately though, you scramble out apologies.

“I should have called and-”

Marcus says your name. “It’s.. it’s okay.”

You feel so foolish right now. You didn’t even think that they had a thing, and that you were possibly the third wheel.

“I can leave. I totally understand.” You really do.

“No.” Acacius orders, saying your name, firmly shaking his head as he rises. His eyes rusted steel swords that pin you to where you stand.

“This started because of you.” He adds.

Wait.

Because of you?

“Wait, are you guys drunk?” You even voice your confusion.

Both Marcus men shake their heads no.

“We were just talking about you, about us.” The younger Marcus explains.

“And it took us some time but we both desire each other. And we both desire you.” General Acacius simply interjects, and Marcus coughs stunned.

You wonder if you’re the one who’s been brought to life in another time.

“Honey, please don’t feel pressured if you don’t feel the same.” Marcus, wonderful Marcus Pike, ever understanding and eternally good.

“I’ve liked you for so long. Even tried to ask you out a couple of times, just got a bit of cold feet. It just unfortunately took an ancient Roman to get me to finally say something.” He laughs weakly, boyishly nervous.

He’s liked you all this time.

You don’t say anything, don’t think there’s any words you can say just yet. Simply the emotions overtake you.

You head first to the younger Marcus and kiss him with a fierce tug at his shirt. He happily pulls you into him and sighs into your lips.

A soft but large hand runs up your back, and the sensation makes your body bloom.

“You both are so beautiful.” The older Marcus mutters dripping with adoration.

With a squeeze to Marcus’s shoulder and one final soft kiss, you pull away then melt into the general’s waiting arms. His mustache tickles you as his lips kiss yours, but it’s divine.

Their hands all over you touch every inch they can. You’ve never felt this desired, never been the epicenter of affection and passion like this before. You just as eagerly try grabbing at either man with as much clawed possession as you can.

They’re both yours now after all.

Tumbling into the bedroom it’s like something out of a dream, blissful and deliciously decadent, but so real with how heated your body feels.

Both men start kissing your exposed skin, with one licking at your neck from behind and the other readily nipping at your exposed chest. Your mind melts in bliss.

“Marcus,” you sigh.

You’re rewarded with two beautiful groans, different in tones it becomes a symphony you want to hear forever.

In the blurry of haze, the sticky syrupy desire, you and the younger Marcus follow each other peppering multiple kisses on Acacius’s chest as he falls onto the bed.

You and the modern Marcus work together, conquering the beautiful golden exposed landscape of Marcus Acacius’s chest. You tenderly press your lips against the various scars then happily move to kiss the younger Marcus.

The delicious sighs from General Acacius fill the room, a hypnotic soundtrack.

Soon your lips start traveling further down across his body. Your fellow lover follows your trail, kissing and kicking every inch of Acacius. You and Marcus reach his cock twitching in the loose sweatpants Acacius has grown fond of.

“Fuck.” Marcus groans as he drags the older man’s cock out.

Fuck is right. Thick, girthy and dripping already, you already ache to have him inside in any way.

“Both of you are little fiends.” The elder Marcus croaks breathless. Confidence surges in you as you lick across his length, relishing in the taste of his skin.

Marcus’s tongue also licks with you along your other lover’s cock, even moving across your tongue. The louder groans coming from General Acacius only spur you and Marcus on.

Greedily your eyes flicker up towards the towering force of a warrior. The beautiful older man’s eyes blown black, desired drenched galaxies looking down at you and Marcus like prizes he wants to conquer himself.

It makes you dizzy, completely possessed, and you kiss your way down to one of his thick large heavy balls. You tentatively lick. Acacius initially hisses until his voice melts into the loudest primal groan when you start sucking.

Your sweet Marcus immediately follows your lead, dragging his mouth down as well. You and him simply devour Acacius, licking back and forth across your lover’s balls and each other’s mouths.

Marcus quickly starts stroking your lover’s thick cock. It’s heaven being among these two, allowing yourself to get lost in the golden ecstasy.

When Acacius reaches his release you greedily lick up his cum that spilled against his skin, and he groans. Once you sit up, you reach for Marcus’s cum covered hand and begin to lick and suck his fingers clean. It’s then your sweet Marcus that suddenly grabs your mouth with the same hand, pulling your face towards his.

“Don’t swallow baby, I wanna taste.” He mutters with blazed out eyes.

Hearing that you almost come on the spot.

You sit up and slowly allow your spit and the milky cum into Marcus’s waiting mouth.

“Gods above.” The elder Marcus moans carnal.

The rest of the night consumes you in a wanton haze.

Sweaty, exhausted, but floating on a cloud, you sink into the bed with two men barricading you in their arms.

“I’m surprised you were…open to this.” You say to Acacius who chuckles a bit.

“I have loved others before, some included men. One was even a fellow General who died tragically among the same coliseum walls as I once did.” He explains gently.

You kiss his chest softly in understanding.

As you and these two lie curled into one another on Marcus’s lush bed, it’s like a new door has opened.

You and Marcus eagerly ask your General about his days in ancient Rome and his travels across the old world, about the true story of how he got his scar. Ever the steady man, Acacius answers all questions he can.

In the middle of this warm incredible double Marcus sandwich makes you giddy. But Acacius’s deep comforting lull of a voice, Marcus’s soft hands stroking your skin, create a cocoon drawing you to sleep faster than you realize.

A soft kiss comes to the top of your head.

“Rest. We will be here when you wake.”

Nodding through a yawn, you happily kiss them both goodnight. But just before you fall into the depths of sleep, you catch the two talking.

“What… will happen if I do not return to stone?” Acacius speaks first, so low and cautious you wonder if you’re dreaming already.

“I… I guess the statue will remain incomplete, stolen.” Marcus answers truthful but gentle.

A moment passes.

“What if I do not wish to return to stone?” Acacius clarifies.

You hear Marcus inhale sharp.

“I’ve longed for peaceful days away from the brutality of the frontline. And now… it’s here.”

A thick hope shines through the older Marcus’s voice, slipping past your ribs to piece your heart.

Movement shifts the bed, arms reach across for each other and seem to cage around you more.

“You’ll always have the final say. You get to make that choice. Neither of us would ever want to force you or take that away from you.” Marcus’s molten words are coated in pure understanding.

“I wish to stay here… with you and her.” Confidence, solidified resolution, radiate from the General’s voice.

The bed shifts again, and you hear them exchange the softest kiss.

“We’ll have to make sure to tell her in the morning.” The modern Marcus sighs dreamily. His hands again start rubbing your arm soothing, as if he can sense you’re fighting sleep.

“Of course. We must never forget our lady.” The older Marcus agrees.

His words along with a soft kiss to your forehead become the final push that allows sleep to settle.

— °˖➴ —

“So you’re telling me mister head of the art crimes department will be okay with a statue staying stolen and missing forever?” You smirk amused while Marcus drives down the familiar roads.

“Hey it’s no Vemeer’s Concert, but I’ll live with it.” Marcus playfully smirks and shrugs.

The investigation on General Acacius’s missing statue had run cold. There was no indication of a break in or forced exit. From the surveillance tapes, the video recordings simply shimmer, distorted for one moment, and then the statue is gone. As if it vanished into thin air.

Or is simply currently sitting in the back seat of the car taking in the world and power of a motor vehicle.

“You hear that, General? Our boy said you’re not valuable.” You tease.

“I don’t mind and I can agree.” Acacius replies bored, making you laugh. The green sweater he wears compliments him and brings out the streams of grays in his hair. You and Marcus have loved seeing him embrace modern clothing more than ever.

“That’s not what I meant.” Marcus rolls his eyes.

You snicker even more.

The occult shop arrives, and the candles feel lighter than ever in your bag, especially knowing you’re here to return them.

“Seems like you didn’t need these after all.” Your favorite lavender haired shop owner says with a coy smirk. Her eyes stay locked on your men exploring the aisles.

“A two for one deal? I'm definitely advertising that for the tea.” She adds eagerly, and you hide a laugh behind your hand.

If only you could tell her the full truth.

You return to your boys, enjoying the way Acacius seems to be a bit petrified among all of the occult objects.

“Are you sure this witchcraft is safe?” He asks worried, snd Marcus smooths by rubbing his back.

You grin.

Love, affection, might be the strangest but most beautiful magic after all.

#this is maybe for like me and three other people but I love y’all & if ur reading this me and the Marcus boys love you too #marcus acacias x reader #marcus acacius x f!reader #marcus acacius x female reader #marcus acacius x you #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x f!reader #pedrostories #marcus p 🤎#Marcus A 🤎#general Acacius 🤎

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foli-vora · 3 months ago

Text

run to you: ch 9

marcus pike x f!reader

A/N: we're getting somewhere now and I for one am fucking thrilled. Enjoy the new chapter with some feels! And, as always, a huge thank you for all the love! I appreciate each and every one of you! I have a day off tomorrow so I'm gonna sit and reply to the reblogs I've kept in my drafts from the prev chapter and reply to your asks x

Summary: Following on from ‘Traitor’ and ‘You’re Somebody Else’. An unexpected visitor throws you right back into the life you thought you left behind. Working beside the man that put you behind bars is one thing, pretending like you never loved him is another.

Word count: 5.7k-ish

Warnings: there's angst because obviously, but I believe we've finally earnt some semi-sweet and comforting fluff now - finally (don't get too comfortable tho lmao). Swearing, mentions of murder, vague descriptions bullet wounds, talk of the break in, lots of anxiety and sweating, scribs is going through it, not exactly a suicidal mindset but more of a 'whats the point fighting this' mindset regarding the danger and threat of the whole situation, protective!Marcus coming in HOT, bit of yearning and touching and FEELINGS and they're finally getting somewhere thank god, but again, don't get too comfortable lol. I finished this at 4am so we're gonna ignore any mistakes thank u

main masterlist | series masterlist

This story is 18+ only.

The slam of a door has your breath halting to a choking stop in your throat, and the person responsible for slamming it open in such a hurry steps through not even a second later. You knew it was him coming, heard his hurried rush up the stairs from the speaker of your phone clenched tightly in your hand, but the pure and utter relief that still washes through your system is so overwhelming your knees threaten to give out from beneath you.

“Marcus.”

He spares you a long glance as he closes the distance between you while sliding his own phone into his pocket, eyes rolling over your body where it half leans against the wall until he’s satisfied you’re unharmed. His hand raises, a gesture for you to keep where you are, and your heart slams against your ribs as he pulls a gun from out behind him.

“Stay here.”

It’s not a request, it’s an order.

You follow it, swallowing around the lump in your throat as he steps into your apartment and the silence that follows does nothing to quell the anxiety twisting its way around your nerves. What if you were wrong, and someone was still in there? What if he finds something? What if whoever did this is coming back and you’re left out here alone?

He appears only a few moments later, the frown between his brows deep.

“Are you okay?”

Are you? Physically, yes.

You give a little nod, shifting under your jacket and doing an internal check over your frazzled nerves and endlessly whirling mind. “Just… shaken, I guess.”

“That’s understandable. You haven’t touched anything? Moved anything?”

“No,” you murmur, fingers pinching and tugging at your sleeve. “You told me not to.”

“Good, that’s good. You did good.”

The praise does little to settle your nerves, but you appreciate the thought.

The door to the stairwell opens, your heart all but stopping dead in your chest at the thought of the unknown and the fear that freezes the blood in your veins. It’s nothing to worry about, the new faces that come through the door bare you no harm, but you still can’t seem to wind down from the pure and utter panic that seizes you.

Marcus immediately strides forward to greet the couple of police officers that introduce themselves, leaving you behind with your arms wrapped so tightly around your chest in an effort to ground yourself.

A high pitched ringing pierces your ears and your eyes flutter closed, focusing every thought on counting the breaths that leave your lungs. In, out. In, out. It works for the most part, the ringing in your ears slowly subsiding until you’re able to hear a familiar voice carefully reach out to you.

“Hey Picasso.”

Jacob’s coming to a stop in front of you when you open your eyes, concern swimming in his eyes as he rakes them over you. He’s dressed much like Marcus, clad in wrinkled track pants and a loose fitting tee that you can plainly see is inside out. Another friendly face is calming, and the little smile that pulls at your lips isn’t easy and probably comes off more like a grimace, but he doesn’t mention it.

“Hey Jacob,” you murmur quietly, hands rubbing along your arms.

“You doin’ okay?”

You give a shrug, eyes darting past him to watch Marcus and the couple of officers talk. “I’m alright. What are you doing here?”

“Pike called in for backup on his way here,” he explains, head turning to eye where your front door had been pried open. “I live the closest so…”

You nod, eyes dropping to the floor. “Sorry to get you out of bed for this.”

“Don’t be. You should be more sorry for leaving without saying goodbye. Thought we were friends, Pollock.”

He’s frowning playfully at you when you look up at him, and you shift a little from guilt. He means no harm, you know that, but you didn’t even think of him when you decided to back out of the case. Was he a friend? You suppose so. You’d opened up to him, warmed to his easy going presence and the way he stood up for you. He was nice.

“I’m sorry about that. I just couldn’t—”

He holds up a hand with a gentle smile. “You don’t need to explain yourself to me, it’s alright. Gotta do what’s best for you.”

Marcus appears beside him not even a moment later, slapping a thankful hand to Jacob’s shoulder before resting his eyes on you.

“They’ve just got a few questions for you. Nothing major, just a little statement and then they’ll call in the crime scene team and we’ll leave.”

“What’s the plan, boss?”

“She’s coming with me. She can stay at my place tonight,” Marcus says, and Jacob merely nods in return, as if he was expecting it. “I need you to stay and consult with the local detectives—”

You stop listening, brows coming together as you process his words. His place? Since when is that an option? And why couldn’t you stay somewhere else? A hotel? The little warehouse space they had reserved for you to paint? Hell, you’d settle for the couch at Jake’s at this point.

“What?”

Marcus sighs sharply, brown eyes fixing on you.

“Don’t fight me on this. We can find you somewhere else in the morning, I just—please.”

You find yourself nodding in response to his plea.

The officers behind them make themselves known, reaching out to you by name and beginning a small line of questioning. You answer their questions to the best of your ability, doing your best to focus on them as Marcus and Jacob discuss your apartment quietly behind you.

What time did you get home? What did you do when you found your apartment broken into? Do you know anyone who would do this? Is there anyone who would wish to harm you?

All of the questions begin to make you sick after a while, and Marcus must see it.

He steps in easily, directing their attention to him and cutting any further questioning off with the kind of finality only an agent of his standing could. They back off under his reassurance that he’ll answer any further questions regarding your situation and the investigation you were involved in himself at a later time, once you were settled somewhere safe.

With a nod of goodbye from Jacob, you follow Marcus down the corridor and down the stairs of your building. You try to relax, try to reassure yourself that you’re okay now, but with the gun in plain sight in front of you tucked into the waistband of Marcus’s pants and the tense way he seems to hold himself, eyes checking and rechecking every corner and space on your way out of the building, it does little to settle your nerves.

He opens and holds the passenger door of his car for you, and it’s impossible to miss the way he studies the street with eagle eyes over your head as you slip into the seat and settle yourself against the leather. You watch him walk around the front of your car, wondering what he sees, what he's thinking.

He’s on high alert, even when he slides in beside you and starts the car. It’s silent as he drives. He doesn’t move to flick the radio on to fill the silence, too lost in his own theories to even spare it a thought. Minutes tick by, the flash of streetlights passing by your window and washing over your features as your face twists with your thoughts, running over theories again and again until you feel almost dizzy.

You need to know what he thinks before you drive yourself mad.

Your voice catches in your throat. “Is this related to the investigation?”

“I don’t know yet, but given the timing it’s probable.”

“Am I in danger?”

His fingers rub over his mouth, his gaze focused solely on the red light in front of him as he internally debates on how to answer. You study his side profile, wondering if he’s intentionally avoiding your eyes to dodge answering truthfully or simply just trying to find a way to process his own thoughts.

A soft sigh eventually leaves his lips.

“Maybe.”

The stirrings of a chill begins to creep along your shoulders, a sick feeling bubbling in the pit of your stomach from having your chaotic string of anxiety ridden theories confirmed.

“Hey, I meant what I said. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You don’t have the strength to say anything, couldn’t even find words if you tried. A thank you attempts to build itself on your tongue, yet it dissolves away the more your mind races and tears start to bite at your eyes. Your hand reaches across the small distance over the centre console to rest on the back of his own, hoping the silent gesture would get your words across well enough.

Ever so slightly his hand shifts beneath yours, and a part of you wilts at the thought of him pulling away and taking away the comforting reassurance the physical touch provides, your fragile state finding an anchor in the familiar touch of skin.

But he doesn’t take it away.

His hand carefully turns, palm now warm against yours, and his fingers gently tangle with your own.

He says nothing, merely letting the rough pad of his thumb stroke along your skin. The steady back and forth of the touch begins to coax the race of your heart into something calmer, soothes the sting of tears. Neither of you move your hands for the rest of the drive.

—

It’s exactly what you expect.

The apartment is neat and tidy, decorated with simple pieces of furniture and little splashes of character throughout. You’re not surprised to see art, and lots of it. Framed prints hang from walls, ranging in size and emotion. A floor to ceiling mahogany bookshelf stretches along a wall behind a small dining table and you itch to tread closer to the collection of books lining it, to see who sits in the few frames that sit peacefully on the shelves.

“It’s very… you,” you comment quietly after studying your new surroundings, readjusting the strap of your weekend bag on your shoulder.

Marcus shifts where he stands, fingers toying with his keys and a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Is that a compliment?”

“You’ll never know.”

The smile widens and he walks deeper into the apartment, keys rattling softly as he places them on the breakfast counter. “The spare bedroom is just in the hall to the left, the bathroom is opposite.”

“Spare room?”

“You didn’t think I was going to make you sleep on the couch, did you?”

“I don’t know,” you reply.

You honestly didn’t know what to think when he bought up the topic of staying at his place. You weren’t opposed to sleeping on a couch when the occasion called for it, and God knows you’d rather take the floor than his bed. That felt entirely too personal given your history.

A spare room was a welcome development. You’d be out of his way and in your own space until he’s able to organise something else.

“Okay, well…” you falter, somewhat awkward just standing there in the middle of his apartment. “If it’s alright, I’m—I’m going to get some sleep. It’s been a long day.”

He nods, eyes falling briefly away from you.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course. Uh, help yourself to the kitchen if you need anything during the night. If you need something else and can’t find it, my room’s at the end.”

You linger for just a moment more, a small piece of you clinging to the reassuring safety his presence seems to provide after the previous events of the night. His gaze moves back to you, so open and steady and soft, it finally pushes you to speak the words you’ve been struggling to get out since he all but flung himself out of bed to get to you.

“Thank you, Marcus, for… everything. I really appreciate it.”

“Anytime,” he murmurs, gentle but with the firm seal of a promise.

His eyes follow you as you begin to make your way to the spare room, the weight of them familiar and surprisingly not unwelcome. No, you feel comforted, secure under his watchful gaze, able to breathe and release the tension embedded into your shoulders.

He doesn’t shy away when you spare him a final glance over your shoulder, and when he returns your small smile with one of his own, something in your chest seems to warm at the tender curl of it. The feeling follows you even when you close the door and slip into something more comfortable, stirs along your nerves when you slide into the crisp clean sheets of the bed and settle against the fluffy pillow.

And it’s still there, even when you succumb to the weight pulling at your eyes and slip into a heavy sleep. It’s not enough to keep the nightmares away though, shadows creeping along the familiar walls of your apartment in your mind and ghostly hands reaching out to tighten around your throat. You awake with a start sometime later, hands tight as they twist in the sheets and heart drumming against your ribs.

You attempt to settle back against the mattress with a few deep breaths, but the shadows dance along the ceiling of the room, taunting you with your recent fear.

Maybe they’d have faces if you knew who was behind this. Maybe they’d be the faces of old acquaintances, pinched with hatred and disgust that you’d given them so easily to the FBI and out for revenge. Maybe they’d be strangers, twisted by fury and fuelled by the significant loss of money from your replicas replacing their targets.

Maybe you deserved it.

Maybe this was just karma, the fall out of your choices and the consequences of each finally catching up to you. Maybe Marcus was wasting his time trying to step in, to save you from a fate you had probably sealed yourself in for when you first agreed to step into that forbidden world all that time ago.

These people, the widespread global business that runs behind closed doors, it was all so much bigger than you ever could’ve imagined when you started out.

What hope do you have of outrunning it? Of surviving the escape of it? There’s no leaving it behind.

Your body feels heavy as you pry yourself from the sheets and sit along the edge of the bed, neck stretching to either side in an effort to rid the ache slowly building behind your temples. Your mind continues to race, barraging you with questions of the unknown, the logical part of your mind struggling to comprehend, to put together how this came to be and how it could possibly play out.

None of it seems to lean in your favour.

The mere notion of it is dark, the apparent threat of death stretching and twisting through your mind until it’s seemingly all you can think about.

Marcus can try, but in reality, how much difference could he possibly make in the end? Whether it was now, or months, maybe even years, down the line… he won’t always be a phone call away. He won’t always be there with a promise that nothing will ever happen to you because of all of this, because of the life you chose to live.

You’re quiet as you slip out of the room and into the living area of his apartment, ensuring to keep your feet light over the floorboards to not disturb him. He had left a light on for you, a lamp perched on the side table beside the couch. That little trace of warmth returns with the thoughtful notion, attempts to coax the darkness plaguing your mind away, but it does very little in the end. The thoughts still run rampant.

The blanket you reach for on the couch is soft and smells comfortingly familiar as you tuck it around your shoulders. In the subdued light of the apartment, you nuzzle into it as you pad to the kitchen, taking in one final steadying breath before setting about finding a glass and filling it from the tap.

Sinking into the couch, you tuck your feet beneath you and huddle deeper into the blanket, thankful the warm light keeps your mind from finding shapes within the shadows stretching along the walls.

You don’t know how long you sit there, mind racing and anxiety spiralling out of control, but the telltale sound of a door opening down the hall has your eyes immediately fixing on the hallway, waiting for him to appear. He does only a moment later, hair askew and shadows under his eyes.

“I can’t sleep,” you offer quietly as an explanation, tucking the blanket tighter around your shoulders. “I’m sorry if I woke you.”

“You didn’t,” he replies, footsteps almost inaudible as he tracks his way to the couch and sinks into the cushions with a soft sigh. “I can’t sleep either.”

Every time he closed his eyes he saw your body spread out on an autopsy table, the soft skin of your forehead swollen and pierced by a single bullet wound. He hears vivid descriptions of your death, the degree of decomposition. His mind plagued him, tortured him, with it all over and over.

He swallows the bile building in his throat, rubbing tiredly at his eyes and taking comfort in the fact that you’re beside him. Breathing, alive.

Is that how this could’ve turned out? What if you had gotten home and they were still there? What if you didn’t have the chance to call him? Who would’ve eventually found you? What if they had come back and he was too late? He shakes the thoughts away, refusing to entertain them for another single second.

It won’t happen. He simply wouldn’t let it.

“How are you doing?”

“Not good.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Do you? You wouldn’t even know how to form your thoughts into words. Where would you even begin? What would talking about it achieve? Nothing. There was no point. Besides, it wasn’t his burden to bear. This struggle was all yours and yours alone.

“No,” you mutter finally, sighing quietly. “It’s nothing. It doesn’t matter.”

“It is something, and it does matter,” he pushes softly, head resting gently against the back of the couch and head rolling to the side to watch you pick at his blanket. “I know it won’t mean much coming from me, but you’re not alone. You can talk to me.”

“To be honest, I don’t even know where to start. My mind’s all over the place. I had a nightmare and it—I don’t know. I just… I’m scared. That’s all.”

Your tone is dismissive, and he seems to take the hint that that’s all he’ll be getting out of you while you’re in this state. He doesn’t push any further, and simply lets the silence fall over you both as his eyes trace the outline of his coffee table.

“Are you hungry?” He asks after a little while. “I can cook you something.”

Your face twists, eyes bouncing to the window where the night still stretches out beyond it. “Marcus, it’s like 3am.”

He hums lowly, and in the corner of your eyes you see a small boyish smile forming on his lips.

“Perfect time for pancakes.”

Pancakes? At this hour? But your stomach rumbles at the thought, reminding you that you didn’t get to enjoy the leftovers sitting in your fridge that you were saving for after your shift. You can’t remember when you ate last, wondering if it was something small before leaving for work or even something earlier than that.

He must see the indecision play across your face.

“Come on,” he coaxes gently, standing from the couch and holding a hand out to you. “We’ll make some pancakes and then we’ll watch a movie or something. It’ll take your mind off of everything. I’ll even let you pick what we watch.”

The offer of a distraction is welcome and highly appreciated, but guilt still bubbles in your system from keeping him from rest yet again. He has a rough job, with sleep surely being scarce already. You couldn’t ruin his attempt of getting what little sleep he could after you practically pulled him out of bed earlier.

“Shouldn’t you go and try to get some sleep, agent?”

He gives a small shrug, that smile curling along the edges of his lips. “It’s not my first all-nighter. Come on, you know you want to.”

You fight a smile of your own and relent, reaching for his hand and letting him pull you to your feet.

It works.

Through the making of the batter, the playful tossing of the pancakes, and the soft drone of American Pickers playing out across the screen when you both finally sink back into the couch with your plates, you find that your mind had been peacefully quiet, your anxiety calmed to a minimum.

Another thing to thank him for.

That warmth, soft and sweet, stirs back to life, and when you glance over at him you have a fleeting thought that you might be in more danger than you’re ready to admit. You immediately stamp it out and refuse to let it grow into something more, swallowing down your appreciative thank you and instead moving to cuddle into the plush arm of the couch, ensuring to keep a distance stretched out between you.

—

Your tea’s cold, the steady rolls of steam wafting up from its pale brown surface long gone. You don’t have the appetite for it right now, the craving all but snatched away with the one simple phone call Marcus had stepped into his bedroom to take. He said he’d be back, that he’d tell you everything.

Time rolls on, and your impatience merely grows along with it.

Do they have any answers? Do they know who was in your apartment and why?

You hope for something random, a break in from someone’s need for quick cash and that can be in, but deep in your gut you know it’s not the case. It wasn’t random. It wasn’t that easy, that simple.

He immediately has your full attention when he eventually reappears, frowning down at his phone before sliding it into the pocket of his slacks. He’s dressed and ready for work, the soft comfortable side of him hidden behind his neatly pressed suit. He senses your questions before you have time to even form them on your tongue, and he gets straight into it, confirming your theories and curdling that bitter anxiety back to life.

“There were fingerprints at your apartment,” he starts, and you shift on the couch as something flashes across his face. “They were a match to the prints we previously pulled—”

—from a gun.

He feels physically sick.

They matched the prints from the ones found on a gun, linked to the murder of one of your old crew. These people, this person, had been in your home, touching your things, been so damn close to you…

Marcus stiffens his shoulders, heart beating at the back of his throat. He doesn’t know their motives, but judging by the state they left your apartment in, he gathered they weren’t there to recruit you. Someone somewhere knew you, knew what you had done, and they weren’t fucking happy.

“I’m putting you into protective custody.”

It’s final, leaving no room for argument.

You’re left to nod, accepting his decision readily despite the dark thoughts that return with it all. What’s the point? His face twists, eyes suddenly narrowed and on you and it’s only then that you realise you’d unintentionally said it out loud. You sigh tiredly, eyes falling away from the questions flashing across his face.

“Marcus, they—” you falter, hands clenching to hide their tremble, “—they’ll find me eventually, whether it’s now or in the future. What more can you do?”

“Anything. Everything. I’ll bounce you around this country until I find all of them if I have to.”

It’s spoken with such a determined vigor you’re left with nothing to say in return. You can’t argue with his resolve. You can’t tell him that it’s ridiculous, that you’re not worth that trouble and that you doubt the FBI would waste such resources on keeping someone like you safe. You’re hardly on the top of their priority list.

“But what kind of life is that? I’m practically on the run until you think it’s safe?”

“If it wasn’t for us—if it wasn’t for me—requesting your assistance with the case, you wouldn’t be in this situation. It’s my responsibility to see to it that you’re safe while we continue the investigation and apprehend those responsible, no matter how long it takes.”

So he thinks it’s his fault you’re in this position. This is him just covering his back, crossing the T’s and dotting the I’s so he wouldn’t be held responsible for anything that happens to you. It’s understandable, his job must mean a lot to him considering his position. It’s your fault you’re even here in the first place.

“Marcus, you don’t have to feel guilty for any of this. I chose to do it. It wouldn’t be your fault if anything happens to me, that’s just the consequences of getting myself mixed into everything when I did.”

“Nothing is going to happen to you.”

“You don’t know that, you can’t promise that—”

“Nothing is going to happen to you,” he repeats, firmer.

There’s that resolve again. You see it etched into his expression, buried within the tightness between his brows. There’s no moving him from it, no talking sense or pushing your case. He won’t hear it, won’t entertain any other possibility than the one he’s seemingly settled on. How could he be so sure?

It wouldn’t kill him to admit there’s a risk here.

You sigh, hands itching to busy themselves as worry curdles along your veins. It pushes your heart faster, turns your stomach until you feel a sickening ache building in your throat. You could take comfort from how hell bent he is on keeping you safe from harm, but your mind pushes to see reason, to know why he’s being so damn stubborn about this.

Even if Jane was right about his supposed ‘feelings’, going to all this trouble for a silly little crush built from your past is just ridiculous. Unless that’s what he’s trying to make up for. It’s not about feelings that are or aren’t there, it’s about fixing what happened. That’s what he’s doing. He couldn’t stop everything spiralling last time, so maybe that’s what he’s trying to do this time.

“You don’t have to do all of this, you know.”

Confusion bleeds into his expression, his hands finding his hips as he waits for further elaboration.

“You don’t need to make up for the past or anything. It’s fine. We’re fine.”

And you were, in a way. Oddly enough, this whole experience had given you closure on a chapter you never thought you’d be able to close. Never did you think you’d be able to achieve this kind of… peace with it all, and yet here you are—in his apartment, comfortable in his presence and the bitter hatred that had curdled so viciously in your heart nowhere to be found.

Of course it still hurts, and probably always will, but he wasn’t all bad. His continuous insistence in keeping you safe, his genuine sincerity in comforting you, and respecting the boundaries you had made along the way through coming into the investigation had shown you that. You can believe he had no intentions of letting it spiral as much as it did back then, didn’t mean for it to develop into what you had shared. It must have been confusing for him, the lines blurring between real and fake.

“Is that what you think I’m doing?” He questions softly, hardened frame weakening under your gaze. “Making up for the past?”

“Why else would you be doing all of this?”

The quiet that falls between you is built with something you can’t seem to place in the moment, his warm brown eyes flicking over your face almost as if he were debating saying something. His mouth opens, and you wait, watching some kind of conflict pass across his face before he exhales gently, his gaze falling to the floor.

He leaves your question unanswered.

“I’m going into the office to organise your accommodations and to follow up on those prints. I’ll have an agent come to collect you sometime later this morning—you can grab some things from your apartment before we move you.”

You should leave it, but you can’t. You want to know why. If it’s not because he’s trying to compensate for the past, then why is he going to all these extremes? Protective custody is a logical step in this kind of circumstance, but you highly doubt there are agents just opening their homes to victims needing somewhere safe to stay.

He had wanted you here, in his apartment where he could watch over you himself. He had made you pancakes, made such an idiot of himself making a mess with batter and tossing the pancakes until a chuckle finally broke its way past your lips, and carefully tucked the blanket around your shoulders when you had fallen into a light sleep on the couch.

Though you weren’t fully conscious enough to recall all of it, a part of you had felt the shift of the couch, sensed his hands near and the sudden reassuring warmth of the blanket before slipping into a dreamless slumber. He was asleep and spread out beside you when you awoke a few hours later, hand stretched across the couch and resting on the cushion just shy of your covered feet, almost as if he were looking for you while lost in his own dreams.

“Marcus, why are you doing this?”

“Because it’s my responsibility—”

You’re shaking your head before he can even finish his sentence. He lets it hang in the air, body slackening as soon as your eyes meet his. The vulnerability that seems to work its way through his system displays openly on his face.

“Be honest with me. Tell me the truth.”

He huffs in wry amusement, face twisting. His head drops, he shuffles on his feet and then he sighs, resigned. “After your conversation with Jane, I think you know why.”

You can’t help but recoil from his words, a frown quick to pinch your brows in surprise. “You know about that?”

His small smile is sad, uncomfortable.

“Jane may be a dick, but Rigsby’s a good guy. He pulled me aside and told me about it when he heard you had dropped your involvement. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry you were put in that position—it must’ve been difficult for you. And it’s not something you should’ve heard from him, of all people.”

He’s not denying it. He’s not rejecting Jane’s words. He’s not standing there insisting it’s just another one of his silly little mind games, or that he was making a big deal out of nothing. He has feelings for you. Actual feelings, and not some strange little crush carried from the past, and from seeing you again after so long. You don’t even know how they could be there. He doesn’t know you, not anymore at least.

“You can’t have feelings for me,” you state plainly, heart suddenly beating at the base of your throat.

“Why not?” He fires back immediately, defensively.

“Because you—” you flounder for words, eyes darting around the apartment in an effort to string your thoughts together. “Marcus, before this investigation, we hadn’t seen each other since—”

“Yeah, well… I guess they never went away.”

“They weren’t real!” You cry out, a touch of anger seeping into your tone as you stand from the couch and face him fully. “You were working, I-I was just a lead! You couldn’t possibly have—”

“You were never just a lead!”

You’re taken aback by the sudden force behind his voice, and he must see the way you flinch at it. He calms almost instantly, chest heaving with a sharp exhale as he breaks away from your gaze and curls in on himself. You don’t know what to say. You merely wait for something more, hanging on the way he seems to be thinking so damn hard on his words.

“You—you weren’t just a lead. Not to me.”

“What are you saying? The whole time, you… the whole time?”

“The whole time,” he confirms quietly, and for a split second you just wish he would look at you.

He doesn’t, and your mind spins. The revelation hits you deeply, the stirrings of confusion, heartache, simmering in the pit of your stomach. It doesn’t change anything. It couldn’t. The damage had already long been done, but strangely enough there comes a wash of comfort that soothes the bitter sting, and the question slips free of your lips before you even comprehend it.

“It was real,” you choke out, eyes prickling from the build of tears, “wasn’t it?”

Maybe not the whole thing given the circumstances, but what you shared, what he felt for you—

“It was always real to me.”

And with those few little words, he shatters the perception you had built of him and the time you shared together. You feel it hit you—hard, your body taking a step back as your throat tightens until you worry you won’t be able to get a breath in or out. The tears slip free, spilling down your cheeks as your mind hurries to replay every memory of him in a different light, one not tainted with betrayal or hatred.

He follows your step back on instinct, one foot coming to move his body forward towards you before he stops himself short. He swallows, a hand finally leaving his hip to run over his face and collect the stray tear that had slid along his cheek.

“Someone will come to collect you soon,” he rasps quietly, leaving you to your chaotic mess of thoughts and slipping out of the apartment, the door clicking shut softly behind him.

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike x you #pedro pascal x reader #the mentalist fanfiction

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mountainsandmayhem · 1 year ago

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Just One More, Baby

18+, Minors Do Not Interact Pairing: Pleasure!Dom Pike x Female!Reader Word Count: 2.8k Summary: Just a casual evening with your pleasure dom husband and as many as orgasm as he thinks you can handle. There is zero plot here, people. CW: so many orgasms, light bondage, temperature play, use of pet names (baby, honey, etc.) praise kink (obviously, unless you're new here. In that case; hi, welcome, I have a praise kink), aftercare AN: I need this man more than I need food or oxygen or money. I'm out of my mind over him and I curse the day I decided to watch these random ass episodes of The Mentalist. Friendy reminder that I am phasing out my tag list, so please follow @mountainsandmayhem-updates and turn on the notifications to stay up to date. Thank you so much for reading, where's my Pike Army? XO Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Masterlist

The warm oil drizzles over your mound, spreading across your hips and cunt. You let out a pained hiss when it hits your sore and overstimulated clit.

“Ouuchh,” you whine, your breathing shudders.

“You’ve been such a good girl,” Marcus murmurs, watching the oil as it beads and rolls in every direction. “Just relax.”

You close your eyes and try to steady your breathing. Relaxing the muscles in your arms and legs that have been pulling at the soft silk restraints for god knows how long as Marcus pulled orgasm after orgasm out of you.

He is still dressed, he had only managed to remove his suit jacket and tie before he started. He has the sleeves of his crisp white shirt rolled to his elbows, still tucked into the dark blue dress pants you picked up from the dry cleaner yesterday. His belt is still on, too, shoes toed off at some point during his slow torture.

You, on the other hand, are completely naked. A delicate, white silk tie around your wrists that is then looped through the headboard, stretching your arms above your head. Your ankles are held much in the same way, one tie on each ankle, keeping your legs spread wide.

He’s used every means available to him to make you come tonight; fingers, tongue, your small purple vibrator, a dildo, or a combination of one or two of those things. He’s done everything except fuck you. At some point you lost count of the orgasms, lost track of when one would end and the next would start.

The oil starts to soothe the dull ache he’s caused at the apex of your thighs. Marcus’s intention is never to cause you pain, but tonight you learned that too much pleasure can feel like torture.

You let out a content sigh, muscles going gooey and pliant. “There’s my girl,” he says proudly, his strong hands coming to your hips, his thumbs needing the muscles along the crevice of your leg and pelvis.

He clears his throat gently. “I think I counted sixteen.”

You smirk and let out a small giggle, eyes still closed as you relax into his touches. He kisses the plush skin along your lower belly. His soft velvety lips are gentle, granted Marcus Pike is always gentle. Yes, he’ll tie you down or make you orgasm so many times you black out, but he’s always soft and warm. Always asking for permissions. Always explaining exactly what’s going to happen before it does - not that you have an option, or want an option if you’re being honest.

“Baby girl?” He mumbles, his breath hitting the oil, warming your most sensitive spots. You shudder, an icy shiver running down your spine at the feel of him. “Think we can get you to twenty?”

His hands move to massage the tops of your thighs, thumbs crawling closer and closer to your pussy. Your clit twitches at the promise of him giving you another orgasm, that blissful tingle causes the tired and overworked walls of your cunt to flutter. Pleasure followed by a dull painful ache waves across your center and mix of a whine and whimper fills the room.

“What’s the matter, baby?”

His thumbs come to carefully pull apart your puffy outer lips. Watching intently as the oil coats your glistening folds. A moan rumbled in his chest, “Beautiful.”

“I’m sensitive, Marcus,” you murmur, pulling at the silk ties he has your hands bound above your head with.

“I know, this perfect little pussy has taken so much. And you’ve been so brave and submissive. I’m so proud of you, honey.” He places a light kiss on the patch of hair right above your clit.

Your orgasm happens so quickly and without him even touching you. A lustful gasp leaves your lips as you shake under him. His voice is full of lustful admiration as he says, “Good job, baby.”

Your muscles tense, hands fisting, as the orgasm rolls through you. You whine his name, equally desperate for the orgasm to end but also for it to never stop. “Just relax, that’s my good girl.”

“Oh god,” your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath.

“Look at me, darling.” Marcus said sweetly, the soft pads of his thumbs running up and down the slick lips of your pussy.

You look down at him, the soft expression of his face riddling you with emotions. You can feel the tears prickle behind your eyes. Tears of what you aren’t sure. Happiness, that’s for sure. But also a sense of overwhelm and insatiable need, it’s all mixed together. You can stop it, a hot tear runs down your flushed cheek.

“It’s ok. I’m right here,” He says softly. “You can do this, baby. Just three more, then I’ll run you a bubble bath and give you my sweat pants and all the cuddles. Can you do that? Can you give me three more?”

“No,” you say through a shaky breath. He’s trying to kill you, you’re sure of it. And while death by orgasm might sound like a great way to go, your pussy is aching and tired.

His thumbs stop their ministrations.

“Do you need to use your safe word?”

You shake your head, “No.”

He lowers his mouth to your swollen clit, lightly feathers his tongue over the tender bundle of nerves. You pull so hard on the restraints that the delicate silk snaps and your hands card through his hair, pulling him back. He has you on that paper thin line of pain and pleasure, but the slight attention to your puffy clit slices through you. “Nonono - please stop.”

“Do you need to use your safe word?” He asks again.

You shake your head no.

“Do you need me to go get some ice? Make my tongue nice and cold, then make your pussy feel better?”

“Yes, please.” You pout, sticking out your bottom lip.

Marcus stands and removes his belt. “Ok baby, but first, my naughty little girl broke her restraints. Arms up.”

You put your arms back above your head and he expertly loops the belt around your wrists. He leaves the scraps of silk that are still around your delicate wrists and then wraps the belt around the headboard.

He stands beside the bed, looking down at you hungrily. “Fuck, I could torture you for hours,” his eyes flick to the alarm clock across the from you and then back to your flushed face. Smirking a little, he corrects himself. “I already have been, so I guess I should say that I will never be sick of seeing you like this. So submissive and sweet. Listening to my every word. Teetering on the edge of pain and pleasure. You’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

He runs the back of his hand down your cheek, you keen into his touch and smile at him. “Yes, I’m a good girl, Marcus.”

He bends down, kissing your forehead and then the tip of your nose before he walks out of the bedroom. You look him up and down, so sexy in his dress pants and white dress shirt, his strong, veiny forearms on display. You had no idea what you were in for when he ditched the tie and suit jacket the moment he walked in the door tonight. But you knew that look. When frustration etched his eyebrows and a hunger flashed in his eyes. You knew he needed an escape, and you knew it came in the form doing exactly as he says.

Marcus grabs a small bowl and fills it with ice from the freezer. He grabs you a bottle of water and then pops an ice cube in his mouth, letting the frozen water melt on his tongue as he walks back up the stairs. As he re-enters the bedroom he sees you lying there - spread eagle and arms bound, eyes closed peacefully, long lashes resting on your cheeks. Your swollen tits rise and fall, nipples hard and slightly purple from the rose gold clamps he had on them earlier. You look sinful and delicious. He meant what he said, he could do this to you forever and never get sick of it. But as your pleasure dom he knows he’s going to have to stop soon. The folds of your pussy are puffy and red, he sucks the ice cube harder, making it small enough so he can speak.

“Goddamn,” it comes out as groan. “You’re so fuckin beautiful.”

You flutter your eyes open, “So are you.”

You swear he blushes as a shy smile crosses his face. “I’m going to make it all better now, baby. I’m going to use my mouth to make you come again now. My tongue is nice and cool, it should help with that ache.”

He puts the water on the bench at the foot of the bed and then climbs between your legs, placing the bowl of ice on the bed beside your hip. “Are you ready, baby girl?”

You gulp before whispering, “Yes.”

His cold tongue licks a slow, flat, languid line from your entrance to your clit. The cooler temperature of his mouth soothes the burning heat between your thighs.

“Mmmm - Th-thank you, Marcus,” you hum as he repeats the motion with his tongue two, three, four more times.

He grabs a new ice cube and pops it in his mouth. As he sucks on it, he grabs a second cube and runs it down the right outer lip of your cunt. He hushes you as you cry out and then does the same thing to the left side. The cube in his mouth has melted enough now for him to continue tasting you. He places the flat of his tongue on your clit and presses down, his hand with the ice cube comes to your right nipple. Ice starts to combat the fire in your veins, and as he trails the ice cube around your nipple, his tongue mirrors the pattern on your swollen nub.

And then it happens again. For the eighteenth time tonight, your orgasm hits you out of nowhere. Your convulse under his cold tongue and as quickly as the orgasm starts it’s over. You’d think after coming this many times in the last two hours that you’d be satisfied and exhausted, but the quickness of that last one leaves you wanting more.

He stills his tongue and lets you grind on him, the ice cube he was trailing along your body has melted. He grabs a fresh one and traces it along your body as you shamelessly hump your husband’s face.

He brings the ice cube to rest right above your mound, the cold water running down your folds, causing you to hiss as it hits your clit.

Marcus pulls his tongue away quickly to say, “Come on, baby.” He lays his tongue out for you again and you push your hips into him harder.

“Fuckfuckfuck - Marcus, I - I’m, oh fuuuuuck.”

He slips the ice cube between his tongue and your cunt and you shatter around him.

“Oh god, mmmmm, yes.” Your voice is hoarse, throat dry from the combination of your rapid breathing and incoherent ramblings throughout the night.

He stays still, letting you control your nineteenth orgasm. His name spills from your lips as you circle your hips. The walls of your pussy clench and release around nothing, slowly and deeply, over and over. Sparks of pleasure light behind your eyes.

“Marcus. Yesyes - oh my god,” your legs start to tremble as you come down the other side of the most intense orgasm you’ve had so far tonight.

“Good girl,” he whispers, kissing up your hip bone to your stomach, your navel to your sternum, the swell of your breasts to your neck, and finally your lips. “You’re doing so well, baby. Just one more. Can you do just one more for me?”

You strain your neck to press your lips to his again. Kissing him deeply and slowly. “One more,” you mumble into his lips.

“I’m going to untie you for this one. I want to feel your fingers tug at my hair as I suck on that perfect little clit while pushing my fingers against that little spot inside of you that drives you absolutely wild. Is that ok, little one?”

“Mmm,” you hum. Mischievously adding, “Yes, daddy.”

Marcus laughs flirtatiously as he releases your wrists from his belt and the torn silk ties. “Are you okay, baby?”

You nod as he guides your arms down and then situates himself between your soft, plush thighs, sitting back on his heels.

“Do you need a drink?” He asks, grabbing the water from the foot of the bed.

“Yes, please.”

He cracks the lid and then helps you sit, guiding the bottle to your lips. You sip a little, the cool water soothes your throat. Marcus’s brown eyes bore into you, soothing the rest of your body. “One more, baby,” he whispers.

You hum in agreement before lying back down in the bed. Marcus leaves your ankles restrained as he unbuttons his dress shirt and then tosses it on the floor. You eye his hard chest and slightly soft belly, a line of dark hair that starts at his navel and travels down to his cock, which is rock hard under his dress pants.

He gives you a shy closed lip smile, “Do you need to use your safe word?”

“No,” you say breathily.

Marcus grabs an ice cube and holds it in his fist, his lips coming to place lingering kisses on your clit. Making out with one of his favourite parts of you. Kissing and kissing, occasionally running his tongue along it before kissing you deeply again.

Once the ice cube in his hand has melted, he teases at your entrance with two cold fingers. You cry out, as pushes them all the way in and then he curls them forward, turning you into a moaning mess. You wrap your fingers into his hair like he asked, holding his face against you.

“That’s my girl,” he says between kisses. “So good for me.”

He sucks your clit into his mouth, pumping his fingers against your g spot. A pained cry passes your lips, “aah, it hurts.”

“I know, baby. You’re so close.” He whispers encouragingly, pausing the suckling on your clit, keeping his fingers still.

“I - I can’t.”

“You can do it, baby. You’re almost there. I can feel you clenching me.” He curls his fingers forward slowly. “Come on, my love.”

“M - Marcus. It hurts, baby. I can’t. I can’t.” You whimper.

“Relax, baby.” His free hand presses on your lower belly and the pressure behind your navel becomes nearly unbearable. “That’s it, fuck baby. I can feel her fluttering for me. Can feel your orgasm building. You’re amazing, did you know that? Give me number twenty, pretty girl.”

You whimper again, willing your body to relax. Willing for the dull painful ache to blossom into pleasure.

“Good girl. Just relax,” he presses down on your stomach harder, his fingers still cold inside you as they tickle against the front wall of your pussy.

You tighten your grip in his hair and he hisses at the pain in his scalp before bringing his lips back to your clit. He sucks it into his mouth loudly, lewd sucking noises filling the room, only interrupted by your mumbles of building pleasure.

He releases your clit, “Let go for me.”

With a final steadying breath it hits you. Your last orgasm sashes over, erasing every thought until all you are is the pleasure Marcus gives you. Your abused pussy flutters weakly around his fingers as he pumps them inside of you. You gasp and squeal as your body breaks out in goosebumps, but simultaneously glistens with a fresh sheen of sweat.

Marcus slows his fingers and looks up at you through his lashes. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers in awe as the involuntary full body twitching of your orgasm starts to slow.

“So…” he kisses your mound.

“...Very…” he stops his fingers and kisses your hip.

“...Beautiful,” he starts to slowly slip his fingers out and your body goes slack.

You lay there panting, trying to catch your breath and find your muscles. Marcus unties your ankles and climbs beside you, pulling you into him and tucking your head into his neck.

“I love you,” he murmurs into your hairline, kissing you softly. “You did so well for me. Twenty orgasms. My good girl.”

You roll into him tighter and wince when your thighs squeeze together.

“Aw, baby. Is she sore?”

You pull back to be able to look at him. “A little, yeah.”

“Come here,” he pulls you closer. “Just let me hold you a little and then I’ll run you that bubble bath I promised.”

“Will you come in with me?” You ask sleepily.

Marcus laughs gently, “Of course. Whatever my baby wants.”

You nuzzle deeper into his skin and let your eyelids close. Completely and utterly surrounded by your beautiful husband.

#pedro #pedrohub #pedro is daddy #zaddy pedro #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #marcus pike x you #marcus pike fluff #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike #marcus pike smut #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike x female reader #pleasure dom #pleasuredom!Marcus pike

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noisynaia · 5 months ago

Text

𝑨 𝑯𝒐𝒍𝒊𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝑹𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒖𝒆

pairing: Marcus Pike x f!reader

word count: 3.0k

note: Fluff. Drinking. Colleagues to lovers. Mutual pining. Written for the lovely @pedrostories Secret Santa event ♥︎ My gift is for @always-andromeda , I hope you like it! It was so lovely to get to write for this blog again, and so exciting to share my first fic in a year and my first ever Marcus story! Thank you so much for the prompts, I tried to mix them both together, but it ended up dividing a bit from that first plan and turn into something else ♥︎

(This is the first fic I've written in a year and english isn't my native language, so I apoligies for any possible mistakes ♥︎)

The air hangs thick with the scent of pine needles and something suspiciously like cheap eggnog. The office is decked out in holiday cheer. Tinsel glints off the overly-enthusiastic Christmas decorations strung across the office, a jarring contrast to the usually austere environment. Twinkling lights are adorning the walls, and a massive tree stands proudly in the corner, its ornaments shimmering softly under the warm glow. Laughter fills the air as colleagues mingle, while festive music is playing in the background. It is the annual holiday party at the precinct, and the atmosphere is filled with a sense of camaraderie and celebration.

You are standing near the refreshment table, a glass of spiced wine in your hand, watching the cheerful chaos unfold before you. Your gaze drifts across the room, landing on Marcus, who is in the midst of animatedly chatting with a group of detectives, his smile infectious, and his laughter like music to your ears. You have harbored a crush on him since the day he started at the precinct, and tonight, with him looking so dashing under the twinkling lights, that crush feels more potent than ever.

Just as you’re lost in your daydream of Marcus’s charming smile, the sound of a familiar voice cuts through the festive din. It’s Harold, the department’s oldest and most verbose agent, and he’s making a beeline for you. “Ah, there you are! I’ve been meaning to talk to you about the new policies coming in next year,” he begins, his voice booming over the festive music. His passion for regulations is palpable, and his eyes light up as he launches into a detailed explanation of compliance protocols, the words spilling out like a torrent as you nod politely.

You try to interject, to steer the conversation towards lighter topics, but Harold is in full flow, oblivious to your subtle attempts at diversion. He recounts every last detail, his hands animatedly gesturing, as you mentally calculate the number of holiday cookies you could have consumed instead of standing here. You definitely need another drink to endure this conversation. Preferably something stronger.

As Harold continues his monologue, you glance over at Marcus again, still engrossed in his chat with the detectives, the laughter radiating from their group like a beacon. A small pang of envy hits you; how easy it seems for him to connect with others, while you’re trapped in this policy discussion. But just then his head turns and your eyes lock across the room.

Time seems to slow as you feel the warmth of his gaze wash over you, momentarily breaking through the haze of Harold’s relentless chatter. Marcus’s smile broadens, a genuine connection sparking between you like the twinkling lights around the room. He raises his glass in a playful toast, and for a heartbeat, it feels as if the chaotic buzz of the party fades away, leaving only the two of you in that shared moment.

You lift your own glass in response, the spiced wine glinting in the soft light as you return his toast. The world around you blurs as you focus solely on Marcus, your heart racing with excitement and a hint of nervousness. His gaze is warm and inviting, making you feel as though you’re the only one in the room.

You smile back at him, but not as broad as his. He seems to notice, raising a brow in a silent question. Just then, Harold’s voice breaks through the enchantment, his monologue picking up speed as he transitions to the next policy. You catch snippets about “streamlining processes” and “regulatory compliance,” but your thoughts are elsewhere. You can’t help but steal another glance at Marcus, who is still looking your way, seemingly unbothered by the raucous laughter surrounding him.

You let out a little sigh, which Harold doesn’t seem to even register, as you try to focus enough on the conversation to hum along at the right times and ad and “oh, really,” at the appropriate time. But you can’t help but look over in the direction of Marcus again. You heal how your heart softly flutters in your chest as you watch him make his way through the crowd in your direction.

“Hey there!” Marcus calls out, his voice cutting through the festive noise with a warmth that sends a thrill through you. He stops just in front of you, his gaze shifting from you to Harold and then back to you. a gentle smile lingering on his face.

“Hey,” you say back, your voice a mix of surprise and excitement, momentarily forgetting all about Harold’s policy monologue. You’re suddenly aware of how the spiced wine feels warm in your hand, and how the alcohol is warming you up from the inside.

“Am I interrupting something?” Marcus asks, his tone light and polite as he glances at Harold, who immediately seems to deflate under the charming weight of Marcus’s presence.

“Oh, not at all!” Harold replies. “Just discussing the new compliance protocols for next year. Absolutely riveting stuff, I assure you.”

“Oh, I can imagine. You must tell me about them after the holidays,” Marcus says, his smile is easy, and the way he leans casually against the table makes your heart skip a beat as he turns to you again. “I’ve been meaning to talk with you all night. I need to ask you about something for the report on the Sollery case.”

You can’t help but smile. There is no Sollery case, but you’re not about to correct him. Instead you play along, immensely grateful for Marcus’ graceful way of saving you from Harold’s relentless monologue. “Of course,” you reply, your heart racing as you revel in the attention. The warmth of the spiced wine seems to spread throughout your body, mingling with the butterflies flitting around in your stomach.

You say a polite goodbye to Harold before he can dive back into another detailed explanation of compliance, the relief washing over you as you follow Marcus to a quieter corner in the other end of the room. The festive music swells around you, but it feels like a distant hum compared to the electricity crackling between you and Marcus.

“So, what do you need to know about the ‘Sollery case’?” you ask, a teasing lilt to your voice, eager to maintain the playful banter.

He chuckles softly, his brown eyes shining as he looks at you, a slight flush is dusting his cheeks, from the alcohol you assume. He looks adorable.

“You looked like you needed a rescue,” he replies, his voice low and conspiratorial, “and I just couldn’t let you endure another second of Harold’s riveting lecture on compliance protocols. I mean, I love the guy, but sometimes it feels like listening to paint dry.”

You let out a genuine laugh, the sound buoyed by the atmosphere around you. “You have no idea how grateful I am. I was convinced I’d have to start counting the decorations on the tree just to stay awake.”

Marcus grins, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. “Well, I’m glad I could save you. I can’t let our brightest agent fall asleep at the Christmas party. That would be a tragedy.”

He nudges you playfully with his elbow, and you feel your heart race at the light touch.

“And uhm, speaking of saving,” he continues, his expression turning slightly more serious but still warm, the flush on his cheeks darkening just the slightest. “I was wondering if you’d like to come over to my place after this? I have a bottle of whiskey that I think we could both use after the year we’ve had.”

Your breath catches for a moment, the invitation hanging in the air between you like the lighted ornaments strung above your heads. “Whiskey?” you ask, feigning nonchalance while your heart races with excitement. “What kind?”

“Only the best,” he replies, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “I promise it’s not eggnog.”

You laugh, feeling the tension ease slightly. There’s something about the way he looks at you, something that makes you feel seen in a way that you haven’t before. “Well, I do like whiskey,” you say, your voice teasing.

“Great,” he says, his smile broadening, and you can’t help but feel a swell of happiness at his invitation. This is more than just a drink; it feels like a chance to finally connect with him outside of work, away from the watchful eyes of colleagues.

You take a sip of your spiced wine, trying to calm the excitement bubbling within you. You stay at the party for a bit, chatting and laughing with your colleagues together with Marcus, the warmth of his presence enveloping you like a cozy blanket. After about an hour Marcus leans in a little. “Ready to get out of here?”

You nod eagerly, a smile spreading across your face at the thought of leaving the crowded FBI office behind. “Absolutely,” you reply, your voice light with anticipation. The idea of spending time alone with Marcus makes your heart flutter, and you feel a rush of excitement as you both make your way towards the exit.

The cold december air hits you as you step outside, a stark contrast to the warmth of the office, but it’s refreshing. Marcus walks beside you, his presence comforting as you both navigate the snow-dusted sidewalk. The streetlights shimmer against the night sky. You make light conversation as you walk towards the metro station.

The city is alive with holiday lights, casting a warm glow over the streets. You can’t help but steal glances at Marcus as you walk next to him, the way he moves with a casual confidence, his laughter still echoing in your ears. The anticipation of what the night holds has your heart racing, a mix of nerves and excitement simmering just beneath the surface.

As you approach the metro station, the atmosphere shifts slightly. The previous bustle of the office party has now faded completely into the background of your mind, and the intimate setting with just you and Marcus now feels charged with a new energy. You both descend the steps to the platform, the sound of your footsteps echoing off the concrete walls.

“So,” Marcus begins, his tone light, “how are you spending your holiday season this year?”

You chuckle, leaning against the cool metal railing. “Alone,” you admit with a playful shrug, trying to keep the mood light. “Just me, some takeout, and a few too many holiday movies. It’s gonna be casual.”

Marcus raises an eyebrow, a hint of disbelief mixed with amusement playing on his lips. “Alone? What about family or friends?”

“I mean, I have family, but they’re several states away, and I’d rather not deal with the holiday chaos,” you reply, a hint of defensiveness slipping into your tone. “Plus, my couch and a good movie sound pretty appealing right now.”

“Fair enough,” he says, his expression softening. “I’m spending Christmas alone too this year—just me and a stack of books I’ve been meaning to tackle.” He chuckles, a genuine warmth in his eyes. “I guess we’re both in the same boat, huh?”

“You’re not going back to Texas over the break?”

“Nah, I decided to stay here this year. I love my family, and it would be nice to see them, but a lot happened back home before I transferred. Kind of left there heartbroken and I’m not sure I’m ready to go back just yet, even though I’m mostly over it,” he replies, glancing at you with a slightly embarrassed smile.

You nod in understanding, the weight of his words resonating with you. You open your mouth, you want to say something, even though you’re not even sure about what to say, but then the train arrives with a rush of wind and a clatter of metal on metal. You both step back, momentarily distracted by its arrival. As it slows to a halt, the doors slide open.

Marcus gestures for you to enter first, and you can’t help but notice the way he stands just a little closer than necessary, the warmth of his body radiating towards you. You step into the metro car and find a place to settle in, the metallic seats cool against your skin. Marcus sits beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours, sending a thrill of excitement through you.

As the train starts moving, the rhythmic clattering of the tracks fills the silence, and you glance sideways at Marcus. He’s looking out the window, the lights reflecting in his eyes, and for a moment, you just take him in. There’s something undeniably comforting about being with him, an ease that feels almost electric.

“Is it your first time spending Christmas alone?” you ask, breaking the comfortable silence, your voice soft. “It’s my first time, my first time spending the whole holiday alone… I’m starting to worry it might be a bit lonely.”

He turns his gaze back to you, his expression thoughtful. “Yeah, it is my first time, but it’s just a few days, right? I think it might be good though, to have some time to regroup. Plus,” he adds with a smirk, “I can’t wait to binge-watch whatever I want, I haven’t had time to watch a show in ages.”

You laugh, the sound bubbling up easily. “True! That’s a definite perk.”

“And, you know, if I’m lucky, I might even get to finish that book series I’ve been meaning to read,” he says, an excited, almost boyish, glint in his eyes.

“What series?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“It’s a fantasy series,” he replies, his enthusiasm infectious. “It’s about dragons and magic and all that good stuff. I know it sounds really nerdy, but it’s amazing!”

You can’t help but let out a little chuckle, hiding your mouth behind your glove covered hand. He really doesn’t have any idea about how adorable he is, and it warms your heart. “Of course, you’re a fantasy nerd,” you giggle, shaking your head gently.

Marcus feigns offense, his eyes widening in mock indignation. “I’ll have you know that fantasy is a very legitimate genre! It’s all about world-building, character development, and epic battles. Plus, who wouldn’t want to ride a dragon?” He leans in closer, a playful glint in his eyes, and you can’t help but lean in too, drawn by his enthusiasm.

“Okay, okay, you make a compelling argument,” you concede, laughter still dancing in your voice.

“Seriously, you should give it a try. I think you will like it actually.”

“I might just take you up on that,” you say, your heart racing with the idea of sharing something with him. “Maybe I’ll start it over the holidays,” you reply, smiling at him. “I could use some good escapism.”

He smiLes at you, but you don’t get to talk more about it. The train begins to slow as it approaches your stop, and Marcus shifts slightly, his arm brushing against yours again. You feel a warmth spreading through you, a sense of closeness that makes your heart flutter.

As the doors slide open, you both step out into the crisp night air. The walk to his place is short but filled with light-hearted banter and laughter.

Finally, you reach his townhouse. Unlocking the door, Marcus leads you inside, turning on the light of the hallway as he closes the door behind you. He takes your coat hanging it on the coat hanger while you take off your boots before showing you to the living room. The cozy setting, filled with soft light and comfy looking furniture, feels welcoming and familiar.

Marcus moves to the kitchen, and you take a moment to look around. The walls are lined with shelves filled with books, and a few framed pictures catch your eye—some of him with friends, others of family, and one of him as a kid with a goofy grin on his face.

“Make yourself at home,” he calls out from the other room, you can hear the clink of glasses.

You settle onto the plush couch, feeling a wave of contentment wash over you as you sink into the cushions. The warmth of the room envelops you, and you can’t help but smile softly as you take it all in.

Moments later, he reappears with two glasses in hand, a bottle of whiskey perched under his arm. “I hope you like it neat,” he says, pouring a generous amount into each glass and handing one to you. “Cheers to a surprisingly delightful holiday evening.”

You clink your glass against his, the sound ringing with a sense of promise. “Cheers,” you echo, taking a sip. The rich, smooth flavor warms you from the inside out, and you savor the moment. “Thank you for having me, and thank you for saving me from Harold earlier.”

Marcus chuckles, the sound warm and genuine. “Anytime. I’d take a night with you over compliance protocols any day,” he replies, leaning back against the couch, his glass resting comfortably in his hand.

“Ditto,” you smile in response. You watch him, the way his eyes light up when he talks, how he seems to genuinely enjoy your company. The atmosphere is relaxed, filled with the soft hum of distant holiday music coming from his speakers. The tension you felt earlier at the party has melted away, replaced by a sense of ease that envelops you both.

“You know…” Marcus’ expression changes as he leans forward to put his glass down on the coffee table. “I was thinking… Since you are spending the holiday alone, and I’m spending it alone, and you said you were scared that it might get lonely…” He takes a deep breath before continuing and you feel your heart fluttering in your chest as you realize where this is going. “Maybe... we could make it a little less lonely together?” His voice is soft yet hopeful, and you can see the sincerity in his brown eyes.

Your heart skips a beat at the suggestion. “That sounds nice.”

“It does?”

“Yeah, it really does,” you respond, your voice steady despite the fluttering excitement beneath the surface. “I’d love to spend the holiday with you. It sounds… perfect, actually.”

A smile spreads across Marcus’s face, a mix of relief and joy that makes your heart swell. “Yeah, really perfect...”

Unbeknownst to the two of you, this would be the first of many, many holidays spent together.

#pedrostoriesgift24 #pedrostories #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike #marcus pike x you #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike fic #marcus pike fluff #marcus pike x f!reader #the mentalist fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader

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qveerthe0ry · 1 year ago

Text

Your Ride, Best Trip

Summary: You sleep with your boyfriend Marcus for the first time Word Count: 9,001 Pairing: Marcus Pike x f! afab! reader Rating: 18+ Explicit Warnings: 18+ mdni, first time, vaginal fingering, oral (m! and f! receiving), unprotected PIV, squirting, creampie, dirty talk, so much fluff, so much kissing Betas: @for-a-longlongtime and @perotovar as ALWAYS. Love you homies I'm kissing u both <3 A/N: I have nothing to say for myself this time

Marcus Pike is perfect.

He’s your dream man.

He’s sweet. He brings you flowers just because, and he’s remembered your go-to coffee order, and he never goes to bed without texting you goodnight.

He’s effortlessly kind. He offers to walk your dog for you when you aren’t feeling well enough to get out of bed, and he always does the dishes when you cook for him, and he makes sure his bathroom is stocked with all the personal products you use at your own place.

He’s fucking handsome. His smile is straight and pearly white, and his big brown eyes warm you up, and the way his broad shoulders fill out those suits he wears to work never fails to make you weak in the knees.

He’s so smart, and he’s so funny, and he’s all yours… finally.

See, when he hadn’t so much as kissed you by your third date, you wigged out a bit.

How could you not? He’d been so thoughtful and caring and all you wanted was to feel those pillowy, soft lips against your own.

So you asked him what was up, and he told you.

Divorced. Broken engagement. A whole year of therapy to pinpoint what went wrong, what he could change, and how he could do better, how he could feel better. And then, he said, he found you— like fate— when he wasn’t even looking, when he least expected it.

You had no problem taking it slow. You’re still convinced you’d wait forever for him, as perfect as he is.

After too many little dates to count, he told you he wanted to be your boyfriend, if you’d have him.

You told him you’d love for him to be your boyfriend, of course. You’d be crazy not too.

And then he finally kissed you.

It was slow and hesitant, but it still made your heart race, made your stomach do flips. He cut it off before it could become anything more than chaste, and left your front door with a sheepish goodnight.

You’ve kissed a lot since then. You never really enjoyed kissing that much, before. It always just seemed like a means to and end, a formality before moving on to other things.

But now it’s one of your favorite ways to pass the time with him. Waiting for an Uber to take you downtown, finally getting to his place on Friday after a long work week, cuddling in bed together with an old movie playing.

You haven’t made out with anyone this much since high school. And you enjoy it, you do, but Jesus Christ, he’s been your boyfriend for three weeks now and you need him.

It doesn’t help that he touches you like you’re the last person on earth. His hands are so big and they’re gentle and electric when they find the bit of skin just under the hem of your shirt.

You think it’s going to happen, this time. Friday night takeout has long been abandoned in the living room. You’re in his bed, in his clothes, and his pinky is teasing at the waistband of his sweats that you’re wearing.

His tongue in your mouth is making you dizzy, and there’s no more blood in your brain with all of it rushing between your legs. You whimper, and you arch against him, and you want him so bad but you can’t say it. You’d feel bad, making him rush when he’s made it clear he wants to take things slow.

When his lips leave yours, you open your eyes, and find his pupils obstructing all the deep, dark brown you adore.

You have to squeeze your thighs together for a miniscule amount of relief. He notices. Of course he does. Damn that Quantico training.

“Sweetheart—”

His eyes flicker down to your lips. You’re sure they look obscene, red and slick from nearly an hour of him sucking and nibbling on them.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

You don’t know why you say it, but you are sorry. You feel so bad for wanting him like this, desperate and aching in his bed, over eager.

“Don’t be,” he shakes his head and gives you a reluctant smile, a smile that tells you you’re going to fall asleep extremely sexually frustrated.

But it’s fine. He’s so worth it.

You give him a soft smile back, and lean in to peck his lips. But he pulls away with his brow furrowed.

“What do you want?”

His voice is gentle when he asks. So is his hand on your back, under his shirt you’ve claimed. But it doesn’t stop that fight or flight response from kicking in.

“Nothing! Nothing, Marcus, I’m okay— I’m great. Just wanna cuddle.”

But the creases in his forehead don’t smooth out, and his hand ceases the soothing circles across your spine.

“You’re lying.”

You sigh and close your eyes.

“I’m not lying, I’m just— I don’t want to push you to move too fast.”

You expect him to be angry. But when you open your eyes again, his own have taken on that puppy-like quality you usually love. Right now, it just makes you feel guilty.

“I’ve been lying, too,” Marcus whispers.

It’s your turn to scrunch your face up. Your blood runs cold, waiting for him to elaborate. A million scenarios run through your head at lighting speed— all worse and worse until your breathing picks up and you beg him with your eyes to just get on with it—

“I have a small dick.”

His face is so flushed. He can’t meet your gaze.

He’s staring at the bedsheets between you, and you’re both just silent for a long, awkward moment.

“I mean— the divorce and all that, it’s all true. And I did want to keep from moving too fast. But— the last few weeks I guess I’ve just been… stalling?”

He finally looks up from the threads to gauge your reaction.

“Marcus…”

“I get it, okay? If you wanna go. I know I lied, and you didn’t sign up for—“

“Marcus.”

You watch his shoulders raise and his mouth snap shut, and he looks terrified.

“I don’t want to leave. You didn’t lie. It’s just— you really think that would bother me?”

He lets out a big breath, and the tension in his body eases up a little.

“I don’t know. Most people were… bothered. I guess,” he shrugs.

You cradle his jaw in your hand, let the day-old stubble tickle the pad of your thumb as you think about how to best navigate this conversation.

Because saying ‘I don’t care’ seems too dismissive. But you don’t. You couldn’t possibly care less about what’s in his pants, when everything else about him has made you fall so, so deep already. But you don’t want to make it sound like it’s something you have to even bargain with, like the pros outweigh the cons, like it even is a con. Because it’s not.

“I’m not bothered,” you finally tell him.

He still doesn’t meet your eyes, in fact, he rolls his.

“You don’t have to lie to me. It’s okay, I’ve heard it all. I know I’ve lead you on—”

“Jesus,” you cut him off, “what did— who made you feel this way?”

He finally looks at you. His eyes are wide and he looks vulnerable and hesitant. You swipe away some hair that’s fallen flat across his scrunched forehead.

“Everyone?”

You sigh his name, and you’re tentative when you lean forward to kiss him, softly, when he lets you.

He looks less terrified when you pull back. You try to smile, but this whole interaction has left such a bad taste in your mouth that it feels more like a grimace when your lips turn up.

“That’s— Fucking awful, to be frank. Pardon my French.”

He chuckles, but his gaze falls away from your face again. His sheets are not that interesting to look at.

“Really, Marcus. I mean— maybe if someone’s just looking for a hookup, then I get it. You want something specific, whatever. But why would you ever think you were leading me on?

All you’ve done is be sweet to me, and shown interest in me, and taken care of me. Unless you’re like, secretly an ax murderer, or committing some kind of major tax fraud, you haven’t led me on at all.”

He’s still not looking at you. Why won’t he look at you, and believe you?

“I don’t want to sound dismissive. I understand you’re insecure about it. I’m insecure about some things too. I don’t want to invalidate that. But I need you to know that the last thing I care about is how big your dick is.”

There. He’s looking at you. He looks a little mortified, but he’s finally meeting your gaze.

“Really?”

You scoff.

“Really really.”

A reluctant smile tugs on the corner of his pretty mouth.

“Why?”

“Because— now, don’t go getting a big head about this— you’re perfect. Like, everything about you. You’re sweet and you make me laugh and you’re gorgeous.”

His face flushes, but he lets you continue.

“And I’m in this, with you. I want this to go somewhere. And I think we’re super compatible.”

“Me too,” he whispers.

“Good, so… we’re on the same page then.”

You watch him lick his lips, and his hand that’s been loosely draped over your waist finally starts back up, drawing little circles across the base of your spine.

“And… There’s other reasons,” you mumble, voice low with a hint of mischief.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah… For one, your hands.”

“My hands?”

He emphasizes his question with a squeeze of your hip, and you giggle at the way it tickles, and also with a bit of embarrassment.

“Yeah… They’re uh… big. I look at them a lot. Honestly surprised you haven’t noticed.”

He huffs, lets his big hand travel further up the shirt on your back.

“Your nails are always trimmed, and— your fingers are long and thick. I’ve thought about them a lot.”

He breathes your name, and now you realize you’re the one avoiding eye contact. When you look back, his pupils are all blown out again, and it spurs you on.

“And I love to give head.”

“Jesus.”

“And the bigger it is, the quicker I get tired. I could stay down there all night, if my jaw didn’t get sore.”

“Sweetheart—”

“Really, it’s one of my favorite things, making someone fall apart under my mouth. But I hate gagging and choking my way through it. It’s tedious.”

He says your name again, this time with a warning tone.

You bite your lip to keep anything from tumbling from your mouth unwarranted.

“You’re not lying.”

His eyes dart back and forth across your face, and you shake your head in lieu of opening your mouth again.

“Fuck.”

It’s the first time Marcus has cursed in front of you. Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and your clit throbs.

“I’ve thought about you so much. Your lips, you have to know, right? How plump and full they are… I think about them at night, when I’m touching myself.”

That’s convincing enough, apparently. Before you can embarrass yourself any further with your confessions, he surges forward to press those plush lips against yours and groans into your mouth.

His hand flattens against your back and pulls, manhandling you closer to him. Your fingers find his silky hair and tangle in the strands, holding on for dear life at this shift between the two of you.

You can’t muster up an ounce of shame. Finally, you have Marcus where you want him, pressed against you. You hike a leg over one of his, getting it between your thighs for even the smallest amount of friction.

You feel him gasp, chest inflating to press even closer against yours. It’s a rush, finally getting this after waiting so long.

Your hands scramble to get under his white t-shirt. His skin is hot, even against your sweaty palms. There’s so much to feel, the slight swell of his stomach, and the muscle of his flank, the soft but firm pecs.

You whine when he pulls away from your lips. He shushes you gently, and you open your eyes to watch his slick lips and his hooded eyes and flushed face disappear briefly, just quick enough to shed his shirt.

Smooth, is the first thing that comes to mind. His tan skin has no hair above his belly button, just the errant freckle here and there. His nipples are peaked, and you reach out to press your thumb against one before your mind catches up to the action, before you realize you’re gawking.

But when your hand stutters against his skin and you look up at him, he’s smirking, amused and turned on. You falter a bit, mouth open while you search for something to say, some sort of excuse as to why you’re devouring him like you’re starved.

He saves you though, with his low, grumbled voice.

“I think about you, too. All the time.”

You dig your nails into his soft skin at his admission, scraping against his chest.

“You know that? You think I haven’t had you a million different ways in my head?”

Your heart stops beating, and you stop breathing, and the heat between your legs only gets heavier and wetter.

“You want me to show you, sweetheart?”

Your heartbeat comes back as a rush in your ears, and you squeeze the meat of his pec as you nod.

He kisses you again, licks at your lips until you suck his tongue into your mouth, and now it’s just filthy. No more pretense, it’s been months of pretense, and neither of you have any more patience.

His fingers seek out your own nipple, a tight bud protruding through cloth, and he rolls it between his fingers gently over the material of his shirt.

“You come over and wear my clothes like this, and you think you don’t drive me crazy?”

The words are grumbled into your mouth, against your cheek, then your jaw and your neck as he seeks out more of you to kiss.

“I don’t wash them when you leave. I wear them and I smell you all day and it makes me feel insane.”

You mewl at his admission. Everything he says now is so fucking raw, now that you’ve broken down his walls. He shushes you again, grabs the hem of his shirt to help you pull it over your head.

He curses when he sees you. It’s the first time. You’ve both been toeing this line of modesty, and maybe you’d be more nervous if you weren’t careening toward the pleasure he’s promised you.

He coaxes you to lie on your back beside him, and his mouth works a slow trail down the side of your neck, nipping and suckling until he finally gets your nipple in his mouth. You arch into it, encouraging him with a hand tangled in his thick hair. You feel his groan reverberating around your rib cage when you scrape your nails back and forth across his scalp. You need him, like nothing you’ve ever craved before.

“Marcus—”

“I know, I know.”

His syrupy voice isn’t as soothing as his lips, though, when he cranes his neck back up to kiss you again. He nips there, a sneaky distraction from the way his fingers trail down to circle your navel, and then even farther, teasing the hem of his sweatpants you’re wearing. His featherlight touch makes you jolt when it finally registers, your stomach jumping under his fingers.

“Can I?”

You’re nodding against his lips, into the kiss, and then whining when his hand breaches the waistband. Those thick, long fingers flutter across your mound. Your breath catches on every wiggle. But when his fingers splay out, half on one side of your slit and half on the other, teasing your lips, you exhale hard and press up into his touch.

“Oh, are you that sensitive?”

His voice is half-teasing, half-shocked, as he mumbles into the tingling skin of your neck.

“It’s just you.”

And it’s true. There’s no ego-stroking here. You’ve waited too long to get this and now you’re fiending, any touch is a relief.

And he’s huffing into that skin under your ear, like you’re playing it up too much, but he bites down on the skin anyway and groans.

“So sweet, huh?”

You make a disgruntled noise but there’s not enough blood in your brain to get your point across. Instead, you wrap your hand around his meaty forearm and force his fingers lower, where you know your underwear is a soaking, sticky mess.

He curses and pulls away from his assault on your neck to look at you. You’re certain you know what he sees, blown out pupils and sweat-slick forehead and bitten, shiny lips.

“That’s all for me?”

There’s a sly smile tugging at one side of his mouth, just barely there, but you see it in the way one dimple grows more than the other. You nod in answer, scrape your nails up the hair on his arm and watch him shudder.

But he retreats from between your legs, and chuckles when you squeeze his forearm tighter in protest. The sound makes you shiver, all low and gruff and teasing. But he softens the blow with another one of his kisses, heated and sloppy and needy. His hands, always so gentle and careful and big, find the creases between your hips and thighs. It makes you arch up into the touch and whimper again, and you wonder briefly if you’ll ever not be desperate for him again.

He watches your face twist up when he pulls away from you, watches the way your breasts move with every heave of your lungs. His dark eyes travel lower, where his thumbs sear circles into your hips, and his tongue swipes across his lower lip.

“Can I take these off, sweetheart?”

The tenderness in his voice fills you with a completely different warmth, white hot flames simmering into a blaze of feelings you aren’t sure you’ve ever truly experienced before. You let it consume you.

“Yes, please.”

He hums a satisfied little noise as his fingers hook under the waistband. He takes his time, making sure to catch your underwear as well. It’s a sight, his huge hands working your only remaining cover down, down, until you’re bare to him and he’s gently cradling each of your calves to fully remove the last of your clothes.

Those hands work their way back up, attentive, memorizing the valleys and peaks of your flesh, the nuances of your skin, the way it bends over your joints. Before you know it, he’s propped himself up beside you once again, one arm supporting his weight so his other hand can work its way between your thighs.

You drag your eyes away from his fingers to look at him, only to find him focused on your face.

It’s a few long moments before either of you move or speak or breathe. It’s you who breaks the spell, only because you know you’re at the very edge of control.

“You sure you’re ready?”

You reach up to cradle his neck in your hand. It’s hot to the touch, and so are his ears, the tips of them burning a cute pink where your thumb grazes them. His eyes get softer and crinkle even more around the edges.

“I’m positive… can’t believe I psyched myself out for so long.”

He huffs and shakes his head at himself. You’re ready to kiss that apprehension away again, but his hand on your thigh pulls, as gentle as everything else he’s done, to spread yourself open for him.

The cool air makes your breath catch in your throat. Or maybe it’s the anticipation. So close to what you’ve thought about every single night for weeks. Months– since the day you first met, if you’re being honest.

He keeps his eyes on you, and you hold his gaze even though it burns. But only until his fingers brush you. Your eyelids flutter shut at the feeling, mouth open wide in shock at how electric just one simple touch feels.

His finger glides so easily around your opening, and you hear him gasp as he explores all the slick.

“You’re soaked.”

His voice is thick with awe, as another finger joins in on the fun, gathering up your arousal. But they don’t breach, and you feel like he’s teasing, readying a whine in protest.

The noise gets stuck in your throat when they trail up, gliding through your swollen folds. They find your clit, full and begging for attention, and circle with hardly any pressure.

Oh, he’s fucking good at this.

There’s no apprehension in his movements. It’s like he’s read a fucking manual on how to press all your buttons. The light, slick touches are building up that heat in your gut quicker than you can ever remember with anyone else.

You’re stunned silent, eyes pinched shut and your head tilted back into the mattress, digging in for even an ounce of grounding.

“That feel good, sweetheart?”

Your vocal chords come back to life, finally, as you whimper from the gentle drag of his fingers.

“You have no idea.”

He chuckles, and you open your eyes to see his own still trained on your face.

“I think I do,” he mumbles.

He shifts, presses his hips into you, and the hard line of him digs into your side.

You clench around nothing, and your clit pulses under the pads of his fingers. He curses and responds to the needy little bud, applying more pressure and speeding up those little circles.

All the while he grinds his hips into you, soft little movements that sync up with his hand, and you want him so bad. You’re losing patience by the second, the only thing keeping you from pouncing is the way his fingers work you over so perfectly it’s like you’re touching yourself.

You’re not, though, and that becomes perfectly clear when one thick, long finger presses lower and slips into you. It slides so easily, despite how much girth it has on one of your own. You both make stuttered noises at the feeling, and Marcus’ lips capture your own to let them mingle together.

Your hips egg him on, lifting and shifting, but he is teasing now. It’s a slow drag in and out, his finger pin straight, and if he hadn’t been so diligent this entire time you’d think he didn’t know what he was doing.

But you whine, a soft plea of his name into his mouth, and he obliges. That thick finger crooks up, just as the heel of his hand flattens against your clit, and stars bloom behind your eyelids.

You groan, and he laps it up before his lips leave yours.

“That’s it. This what you needed?”

A pathetic whimper comes out in response as you nod your head. His finger presses harder into that perfect spot, and his palm slides over your wet clit. You’re clenching around him, savoring the feeling of being filled by him, working your hips down and back to meet his motions. It grows and grows, that feeling in your gut, so close that you can’t be bothered to worry about what needy noises you’re making.

He mutters another frantic curse, and his hips jump to press his cock into you harder.

“I gotta taste you, sweetheart. Can I? Will you let me?”

You nod so fast you’re surprised your head doesn’t detach from your neck. He soothes that frenzied part of your brain with another kiss, slips his finger out of you, and moves to get between your legs.

You thread your fingers through his hair to keep him still, even if it’s just for a moment. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, and the drag of his sweatpants across your sensitive center makes you arch up into him for more, to seek out more friction.

He just huffs a laugh against your lips and angles his hips away, denying you the simple pleasure of grinding against the tent in his pants.

“Not yet. Let me take my time with you. You’ve waited so long, right? I’ll make it up to you, you just gotta let me.”

You huff.

You should’ve known Marcus would be just as much of an infuriating tease in the bedroom as he is outside of it. The trivia dates and the cocky smirk he always sported when he won, the little bets he’d make on how a movie’s plot was going to twist, the refusal to ever let you pay for dinner— it’s all adding up now, and you can’t believe you didn’t expect it.

Marcus Pike is a smug little prick underneath the humble, sheepish grins, and it’s hot and it’s yours.

“Put your money where your mouth is,” you breathe.

He chuckles and trails said mouth down the length of your naked body. You watch his plump lips explore your skin and leave wet patches littered in their wake, shiny little stakes claiming you. His five o’clock shadow is just long enough to abrade your skin a bit, delightful little pricks that make your muscles jump involuntarily.

He makes it to your mound before looking up at you. His brown eyes are mostly obstructed by his pupils, but they shine all glassy in the dim lamplight of his bedroom. His shitty grin has faded and he looks determined, and it steals the breath from your lungs.

He teases some more, of course he does. His lips peck and tickle the creases of your thighs, the skin of your outer lips, and the very tip of your hood before you finally see his pink tongue slip out.

All of a sudden you can’t watch, can only let your head fall back and close your eyes and drown in the anticipation.

The pointed tip of his tongue just barely grazes you, tracing a razor-thin line from your dripping hole all the way to your mound. It tickles, and your breath comes in faster as he does it again, and again, and again.

Just before you can beg for more, he flattens his tongue and drags it up your slit. He laps at your folds, slow and calculated, and the satisfied noises tumble out of you as you feel his taste buds glide against you.

All you can think to do is find his hair and use it to hang on. Your legs spread wider, and he takes the encouragement. His tongue finds your clit, so swollen and sensitive with need by now. He circles it, then wiggles his tongue back and forth, playing with it, playing with you. He shakes his head from side to side to give you more, presses even more firmly, and the heavy feeling in your gut tightens tenfold.

Your hips start to move on their own, rocking up into his face, helping his motions along. He groans with it, muffled and wet between your legs.

A delirious thought gets stuck in your horny brain. You don’t know how you’ll ever let him leave this spot between your legs now that you’ve finally got him here. It’s so wet and warm and incredible, and your nails dig into his scalp to drive the point home, to try and lock him here forever.

His voice snaps you from your reverent thoughts, thick and deep.

“Fuck, sweetheart. You taste so good, looks so fucking pretty.”

You brave a glance down at him, his red soaked mouth and his dark eyes that are boring holes into your pussy. One of his hands releases its grip on your thigh to glide across the dripping mess of your center. He toys with you, spreading you open with splayed fingers, watching the way your folds bend to his whim. With it exposed and protruding and aching for his touch, he leans down to wrap his plush lips around your clit and suckle. Curses fly from your lips at the concentrated attention, and it’s so so so fucking good you’re sure you’re going combust.

His hand slips lower, and his mouth doesn’t stop, and you’re dangerously close to tipping over the edge. And then two thick fingers slip easily into you, immediately seeking out that spot inside you and tapping there.

It’s blinding pressure overwhelming the two places you need him most. He drums up a rhythm that would remind you of a dance, maybe, if your brain were cognitive enough to form a coherent thought. Down with his head, engulfing your clit, and up with his fingers, squeezing that spongy spot inside you. Over and over, he works you with soft grunts against your cunt until your fingers lock up in his hair and your hips start to shake.

“Please don’t stop,” you pant, “I’m so close.”

To his credit, and this is more than you can say for the majority of men you’ve been with, he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t slow down, nor does he speed up. He keeps at you exactly how you need it, moaning strung-out little noises into your center until you’re dropping.

All the wind is knocked out of you. Your hips jolt into his face and he takes it in stride, lapping at your clit when the seal of his lips is broken from your erratic movements. You tremble through it, clench around his fingers, and squeeze his head between your thighs as you ride it out on his tongue.

As the shivers roll through you, Marcus’ fingers slow, and though he can’t remove his tongue from you because of how your legs have him in a headlock, he stills his tongue so you can take the last bit of what you need from him.

His breathing is just as heavy as yours, wheezing out moans and muffled words of encouragement. When you feel yourself slipping down from your peak, you let go of the death grip on his hair, and open your legs, and grant yourself a few deep breaths before you dare to look down at him.

He carefully, cautiously pulls his fingers out of you. A comforting ‘shhh’ is cooed into the sweaty skin of your thigh when you make a strangled sound. Both of his hands splay out on either hip, a light and grounding touch accompanied by the kisses he’s dropping all over the skin he can reach.

Finally, you grant yourself a peek down at him. The first thing you notice is how his broad shoulders are, heaving with baited breath. Then, his normally pristine hair, sticking out every which way and then some from your frantic fingers.

His face is red, you guess from exertion. Or maybe you really did restrict some blood flow. Christ. That’s what he gets, being so goddamn good at that.

And then his lips. His lips. Those lips that up until now you’ve only ever kissed or dreamed of. They’re even more plump, swollen and slick with you, shining just like his chin is.

You don’t know what to say. You know you want to kiss him. Funny, considering that’s how all this started, but you’re dying to see what you taste like on him.

Luckily, he breaks the silence, after licking those delectable lips and clearing his throat.

“So… How’d it compare?”

Your face contorts on its own, surprised at the sudden and intrusive question.

“Pardon?”

But then he laughs, pressing those wet dimples into your heated skin to hide them.

“To all those thoughts you told me about. How’d I do?”

You laugh too then, a weary huff of breath as you sit up.

“Don’t go fishing for compliments,” you tease, though there’s not much heat behind it with how out of breath you still are.

He goes to respond, but you get a hand in his hair again and coax him up. You meet him halfway, swallowing his surprised noise when you finally get those pillowy lips against yours and lick at them, his tongue, his teeth, until you aren’t sure what taste is you and what is him. Until you realize you’re flat on your back again as he hovers over you, still between your thighs.

You both hum when the kiss breaks, and you rest your forehead against his, nuzzle his nose and sigh at the floaty feeling in your limbs.

“Better,” you whisper.

You feel his grin bump into your own. You nip at it, playful and languid as you finally begin to get some of your bearings back.

And then you’re shocked back into the realization that there’s all this smooth skin right in front of you, this hunk of a man hovering above, the one who just melted your brain into a fuzzy little mold of itself. You grab his hips as he licks into your mouth and scrape your nails up his flanks, unhurried, while the touch makes him shiver.

You feel out the strength in his pecs, those broad shoulders you often daydream about, and then you push. Catching him off guard, he gasps as he loses his balance and tumbles to the side, and then laughs when you press him into the mattress and straddle his hips.

You laugh along with him, but it slowly tapers off as his hands find your naked skin— your stomach and hips and back and then your ass, where it hovers just above that bulge in his sweatpants.

He’s looking up at you with what you can only describe as horny apprehension.

His eyelids droop over his dilated pupils, but his brow is all pinched up in the middle. His mouth hangs open, like he wants to say something, but nothing comes out.

So you kiss him, soft and gentle, as gentle as he’s been with you all night. His sigh washes heat across your cheeks, and you feel him relax under you just a little.

But then you shift in his grasp, lower your ass, and press your soaking center to his crotch. You whimper at the feeling of his sweatpants dragging across your sensitive, wet cunt. He moans and bites at your bottom lip maybe a little too hard.

But it’s okay. He pulls away and pants your name and you settle there, your weight pressed down on his cock. Your lips find that smooth patch in his stubble, biting that chiseled jaw, licking down the curve of his neck, his shoulder, up to his ear. You delight in every goosebump you draw, and breathe in his scent before you speak up.

“Will you let me suck it?”

All his breath rushes out in a big gust. His fingertips dig into your naked sides, and he nods.

“Please.”

It’s a barely-there whisper. You pull away from that silky soft skin where his pulse is hammering to check his reaction.

He’s begging with his eyes. It makes you smirk, sitting up straighter, trailing your fingers down the front of his body until you reach the drawstring of his sweatpants.

You’re still sitting on his groin, though. You give a little playful wiggle, and his hips rock up to grind harder. But you don’t want to tease any more. Every moment spent teasing him, you’re also denying yourself, and you’ve been patient for long enough.

So you shift down the bed, nestled between his legs, and get to work on the tie of his pants. Every time your fingertips brush the hair below his belly button, he sucks in a breath. You finally get the thing untied, and look up one last time for permission before you start to drag the material down, grabbing his boxers as you go.

Your eyes stay trained on his face instead of staring at his crotch, especially as he wiggles a bit and lifts his legs to remove his pants. You don’t want to stare, and you also don’t want to not look, you don’t want him to be uncomfortable at all with you.

You want it to be perfect. You want to make him feel the way he makes you feel.

He nods his head, and you cease averting your eyes to trail down his body, the bushy happy trail and the neatly trimmed hair above his cock and his cock.

His little cock.

It is, indeed, on the smaller side. Probably one of the smallest you’ve seen in real life. Three and half or four inches long, if you had to guess.

And it’s so pretty, cut and on the thicker side, the slightest upward curve that makes your pussy tighten around nothing.

You dive right in, press your nose to all the hair while you kiss at the base of him, humming when his cock twitches against the side of your face. He smells so good and clean, like always, but down here there’s even more of that Marcus smell that always lingers beneath his soap and cologne, salty and warm.

When you drag your eyes up to him, his head’s thrown back against the pillows, not looking at you. You want him to look, you want him to see how much you’re going to enjoy this.

You’ll make him look, one way or another.

For now, you just lathe your tongue up the underside of him, then back down to tickle his balls, all the while enjoying how his prick jerks under the attention.

He’s making little noises, mostly puffs of breath and gasps, and his hands twist up in the sheets beside you. You grab one of them, slow and steady, and lead it to the back of your head.

And then, you finally get your lips wrapped around the head of his dick, and you slowly sink down until he’s entirely in your mouth.

It’s not until your nose presses against the flatness above his cock do you hear him release a strangled groan. That’s when you look back up at him and find him staring down, mouth agape, locked on your mouthful of him.

You pull back up, wiggling your tongue as you go, memorizing the ridges and hairs and veins. Your eyes are locked on his, and his are locked on your lips, so you try to give him a show.

You open your mouth and stick out your tongue, nod your head up and down to let his cockhead tickle your tastebuds. A gruff noise leaves him, hearty and hoarse, and you want to smile but you’re not in a position to.

Instead, you flick your tongue against that little band of tissue just under his slit, and his hips stutter as his grip on the back of your head tightens.

“Fuck, sweetheart.”

Now you do smile, your lips upturned against the head of his cock, and it jerks against your mouth while you kiss it, until you envelop it once more.

You hum around him, at the weighted feeling of him occupying your mouth, how smooth it feels against your tongue and how nice it is to take him all the way in and not gag or choke or drool.

It makes your cunt ache, makes you crave him even more, makes you want to be full of him everywhere.

You reach a hand down to touch yourself. You’re still dripping, can feel it all slipping from your entrance and cooling your skin in the air conditioning. You’ve had just enough time to recover from the mess Marcus made of you. You’re sensitive but not too sensitive, when you trace your clit with your fingertips and moan around the mouthful of cock.

“Oh fuck, are you touching yourself?”

Your eyes flicker open and look up to him. He’s clenching his jaw, grinding his teeth as his nostrils flare. You hum and nod your head to answer, his cock slipping back and forth through the ring of your lips. He whimpers, and his head tips back against the mattress again, and it makes you speed up the efforts on both him and yourself.

He curses, soft little chants, kneading the back of your neck in his big hand as you suck him in over and over. You close your eyes and lose yourself in it for a bit, the way he slips so easily in and out, the way his hips move just a little, like he’s trying not to but he can’t help it. The sounds, his grunts and your sloppy mouth and your fingers working over your slick folds.

He says your name.

You hum, use your free hand to play with the fuzzy skin of his balls.

He says your name again, and this time it’s urgent, almost panicked.

“Sweetheart, stop, please.”

You do, immediately. You open your mouth wide and let him fall from your lips and unhand him while you look at his exerted face.

“Are you okay?”

He huffs, and his cock bobs beside your face.

“I’m so okay. I just— did you want me to…? It’s okay if you don’t, I just didn’t want it to be over—”

“Marcus.”

His heated babbling stops as he clamps his mouth shut. His broad shoulders lift and drop with his heading breath.

“Do you want to fuck me?”

You smooth your hands across the scattered hair on his thighs when you ask. His prick twitches again at your question.

“I— Yeah. Yes. I do.”

He looks almost guilty about it, with his wide eyes and the bashful expression spreading across his face.

“I want you to fuck me so bad,” you tell him, “I’ve wanted it for way too long.”

His breath leaves him in a shuddery exhale, something like relief or awe.

“Yeah? You still want it?”

His hand skates from the back of your neck to your jaw, his thumb brushing the apple of your cheek.

“Please, Marcus. Give it to me.”

You turn your head to kiss his thumb, a sloppy little peck before you take it into your mouth. You smile around it when he groans, and bite it before it slips away.

“Can you get on the edge of the bed for me?”

You can, but not without throwing a cheeky ‘yes sir’ his way. You’re not sure if the noise he makes is from arousal or a lack of amusement, but there will be plenty of time to explore that later.

For now, you do as he says. You scoot so your ass is just about to fall off the side of his bed. The wooden bed frame is the perfect height to rest your heels on, and as Marcus slips a pillow under your head, you’re as comfortable as ever.

The mattress dips when he gets up to stand in front of you. The lamplight from the nightstand is really doing things for him. The slight sheen of sweat on his chest glistens, as does the wetness at his temples where his hair is starting to curl up. All those lean muscles have never been more apparent than they are now, the golden glow creating beautiful shadows across his naked body.

He’s so hot.

It doesn’t help that his big, warm hands snake up your bare thighs as he gets between them. His small dick stands at attention, pointing toward the ceiling, and you feel your pussy spasm with anticipation.

“Please,” you whisper.

He nods, steps closer as you spread your legs wider and wiggle even further off the bed.

“Perfect, sweetheart.”

He leans over you with one hand on the bed to brace himself. The other is wrapped firmly around the base of his cock, and he looks down to watch it as he glides it through your slit.

“Are you ready?”

You nod and hum your affirmative. He takes the go-ahead and his cockhead slides across your clit, down, so slowly, until it catches on the rim of your hole and you both gasp at the feeling.

You look down to watch too, lifting up on your elbows to see the moment your pussy lets him sink inside, fluttering around him, engulfing his prick one inch at a time.

You knew it. You fucking knew his cock was perfect but still you’re shocked at the way the curve makes him drag across your upper wall. And when his hips are flush with yours, all that pressure is concentrated at that bundle of nerve endings inside of you, and you’re going to lose your mind if he doesn’t move.

“Oh fuck.”

You let yourself flop back in the bed, but reach for his hand that’s supporting his weight. Your nails scrabble for purchase against the skin of his wrist as you curse again, your walls contracting around him as you tense.

“Fuck, Marcus, please.”

You’re so far past caring about how desperate you sound. You need him, the textbook definition of it; it’s an absolute necessity that he fucks you.

He curses, and you realize you’ve closed your eyes. When you open them, his jaw is hanging and he’s looking at you, your face, like it’s something he’s never seen before. Like he’s shocked you’re here in front of him.

But his hips are still, and you’re helpless to the way your own cant up to urge him, and finally he’s pulling back out. The slow drag against the most tender spot inside you rips a noise from your throat, involuntary. He pulls almost all the way out, until the head of his dick is kissing your opening and you can feel how he stretches the tight ring of muscles.

And then in again, almost as slowly, and you’re already out of breath. The feeling steals all the wind from your lungs. It’s setting you on fire, perfect friction against just the right spot, the one that’s still tender and alight from your previous orgasm.

“It’s so fucking good,” you manage to choke out.

Marcus moans above you, and his hips snap into you, and his free hand finds your waist so he can dig his nails into your flesh.

“It is, fuck, sweetheart, you’re so fucking good.”

A bead of sweat drips from his nose and lands on your belly, and that seems to make you snap out of it.

“Fuck me. Fuck me hard, please, make me come.”

You watch his mouth quirk up into a pretty smirk, dimples on full display.

“Yes ma’am.”

Your giggles only last for a moment, dissolving into a high whine when he slides out of you and back in, a harsh thrust of his hips that doesn’t let up.

He fucks you. You try to watch; it’s too hot not to. His biceps flex respectively, one with his effort to hold himself above you, and the other where he holds you in place by your waist.

His neck, the one vein there that’s protruding as he bares his teeth. The way his chest is rapidly rising and falling as he drives into you. His big brown eyes, even darker now as he succumbs to the feeling of you.

But you just can’t keep your eyes open for long. It feels too good, you’re too close to the edge. Your insides are so tender and alight from the first time you came. Every single thrust inside you is taking you apart and building your second so quickly. Your eyelids droop closed and there’s already stars blooming behind them.

His little noises are louder, like this. Grunts and gasps and moans, falling over you, all for you.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you warn him.

Your back arches to encourage his pace. His skin slaps into yours faster as he groans.

“Thank god, me too. What do you need, sweetheart?”

Without a verbal answer to his strained question, you slip your hand down to press against your throbbing clit.

“Shit, yeah, play with your pussy for me. I wanna— fuck— let me see you come. Looks so gorgeous.”

His voice is thick in his throat, and you work your fingers over yourself faster. You’re clenching wildly around him, you can’t help it. Every thrust in sets your nerves on fire, almost too much, but not quite. His grunts are turning into growls, uninhibited and primal. You feel the mattress shift and open your eyes to find him standing up straight.

Both hands grab your hips now, and that little angle change makes him grind even harder into your g-spot, and you’re tumbling over the edge. It’s been building under the surface for so long that when it hits, it’s blinding. There’s static in your toes that washes over you, up, up, dragging a fiery heat with it that consumes your center and makes your head fuzzy.

There’s screaming.

You’re screaming. Your eyes are clenched so tight, as are your fingers, all your joints, your pussy, around Marcus as he fucks you through it with sloppy thrusts.

“That’s it, oh my god, sweetheart, you— fuck. I’m gonna come, I’m— where?”

“In me.”

Your throat is scratchy when you answer, and you don’t have any time to elaborate on why that’s not a bad idea. You’re still coming, wave after wave of warmth rolling across your body, and you’re vaguely aware of how wet everything is, the sound of him fucking you even more obscene.

His shout doesn’t quite rival yours, but you feel it when he empties inside of you. His cock jerks and and twitches, wringing out every little bit of pleasure from you, and you think you’re still coming, the pinpricks of pleasure are still too intense to be aftershocks.

He stays pressed as deep as he can be as his stomach convulses and his thighs shake, just like yours do where they’ve somehow wrapped around him. Your eyes open again, and the lamplight is so bright now, his breathing is so loud. He grunts and pulls out a bit, then presses back in, and again, until it falters and his whole body slumps.

His top half collapses onto you, his little breaths huff and tickle the tingling skin of your belly. Your own breath comes out in a weak moan, and it takes all the strength you can muster just to run your fingers through his sweaty hair.

“Jesus,” he says.

Your name cascading off his lips in such a strung out voice that it makes you clench around him again.

“Huh?”

God, how are you ever going to move again?

“You uh… Is that a common occurrence?”

Christ, why is he using such big words?

“What are you talking about?”

He clears his throat.

“You like— You squirted?”

You laugh, one delirious huff. It makes his head rock on your jiggling belly.

“I what?”

You gather the will to look down at him. His mouth is open, surprised and amused, and his eyes are shiny and bright.

“Yeah, like, a lot.”

He’s still inside you but softening, and his own chuckles make him slip out.

You lift up on your elbows as he stands up straight and the evidence is clear. The hair above his dick and high on his thighs is all dark and soaked.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

The sheets on the edge of the bed are absolutely ruined, and you pray he’s one of those men that has a mattress protector. You’re more than a little mortified, and the way he’s staring at you, silent, is beginning to make you squirmy.

“What?”

“Why do you seem so surprised?”

His fingertips are feather-light across your thighs, and you shiver.

“I’ve never actually… done that? I would have warned you.”

He makes a pained sound, and those fingertips turn into a tight grip just above your knees.

He doesn’t speak up. Instead, he lies on the bed beside you. He holds himself by his elbow, but that hand strokes your scalp while the other traces up and down your thigh, your hips, your breasts, anything he can reach. You avoid the topic at hand to relax into it, and you think you’re finally coming down as that boneless feeling washes over you.

You’re vaguely aware of his cum dripping out of you, but the sheets are a lost cause anyway. You just watch his lax face, the way the wrinkles in his brow are all smoothed out, the way his eyes follow the patterns he’s drawing on your body.

He catches you staring. His gaze meets yours and he smiles and it’s sunny. It warms you through, despite all the sweat that’s cooling on your body.

“Hi,” he whispers.

You giggle, and he does too. He tries to hold it in by biting his lip, but it’s no use. You will your exhausted bones to shift and face him, and he presses his lips to yours and they meld together.

It’s languid, unhurried, just reacquainting after too long apart. It feels a little goofy, with how you’re both smiling so wide, but it calms you into settling down after such a high.

Both of your breathing seems even, when you part.

“That was—”

“It’s never—”

You both chuckle.

“Ladies first.”

You feel shy now. You can’t imagine why, but a fluttery feeling overtakes your stomach.

“I was just gonna say… That was better than all those times I imagined it.”

You didn’t think it was possible, but his smile grows even wider. His eyes flicker from yours to the sheets between you, and you think maybe he feels as bashful as you do.

“It’s never been that good.”

A sigh escapes him when he speaks, and his nervous gaze lands on you when his face falls into something more earnest.

It takes your breath away. Because it’s never been that good for you either, and isn’t that such a perfect coincidence?

You tug him to you by the back of his neck, eat up the surprised little sound he makes against your mouth.

“When can we go again?”

#Pedro pascal #Pedro pascal x reader #Pedro pascal smut #Pedro pascal fanfiction #Pedro pascal characters #x reader #marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike smut #the mentalist

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absurdthirst · 2 months ago

Text

Undercover Love {Marcus Pike x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 12.2k

Warnings: Heartbreak, danger, undercover work, lies, derogatory language, voyeurism, sleeping with the enemy, fear, graphic violence, murder, guns, arrests, needy sex, unprotected sex, cock riding

Comments: Going undercover to escape heartbreak from Marcus Pike proposing to Teresa sounds like a good idea. Until you realize you are in deep and then one day, the man you are trying to escape walks into your undercover op.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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

|| MasterList || Marcus Pike MasterList ||

When you got called into your superiors office, you never imagined you’d be asked to go undercover within a well known mafia. You glance back at the door, knowing that Marcus has gone for lunch with Teresa. His fiancé. The words make your heart clench and you are sold on your decision. You’re going undercover and you will try to forget about Marcus Pike…the man you’re in love with.

Marcus sighs as he comes back to the office. He is trying to stay optimistic, but Teresa doesn’t seem to be as eager as he had hoped she would be. Although she always plays her cards close to the vest, unless they are in bed. He taps on your door, frowning slightly when he doesn’t hear you call for him to come in. He says your name and Johnson tells him as he walks by. “She’s left.” He hums. “Got called into the boss's office. Wouldn’t say where she was going.” That’s odd, and concerning. Marcus is your partner, your friend. He pulls out his phone and dials your number.

You are deep into the brief, whisked away from the office to speak to your superiors about your mission and who you are going to meet, you have to forget about Marcus and focus on your job. It’s dangerous and you could be killed. He’s starting a new life in D.C with Teresa. You have to forget about him. When his name appears on your phone, you ignore it. It’s time for a new start.

****

“Sir, excuse me, May I talk to you for a moment?” It’s been two days since he’s seen you, heard from you and he’s starting to get worried. You’ve never not called him back. He says your name and doesn’t notice the way that the field manager’s face changes. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but she’s been out for two days and she’s not answering her phone.” He is worried, and hopes that it’s something simple. He knows your grandmother has been ill, hopefully she didn’t pass.

“Pike….” The tone is compassionate, understanding, making him look up from his phone. “She’s undercover.” His jaw drops in shock. “What? How could she-“ The other agent is in awe of Marcus sometimes. He’s an intuitive agent, smart, dedicated and focused. But he couldn’t see what was right in front of his nose. “She had to immediately leave, it’s a deep cover. No contact. And you’re leaving for D.C. in a week.” He pats his shoulder. “It’s better this way.” That makes him frown, but he nods. “Sure, um, thanks for letting me know.” He bites his lip as he turns away, feeling more upset than he probably should about not getting to see you one more time before he leaves. He has loved working with you.

****

You’re not sure how long you’ve been undercover. You don’t even remember the last time you heard your real name. You stare out the window to the city when his arms wrap around you. “Hey baby. You been a good girl?” He asks as his lips press against your neck and you suppress your shiver. “Try to be for you.” His chuckle puffs against your skin. “Want you to meet one of the new guys. Gonna be running a few routes. He squeezes your hip and you turn around, fully expecting to see a rough and ready gangster but you barely suppress your gasp as your eyes meet Marcus’s.

Marcus nearly blows his cover when he sees you. It’s not a look alike, it’s you. He knows that face. He knows the curve of your lips and how your eyes change color slightly when you are wearing different colors. You’re here. Obviously undercover and he quickly makes sure that the man he’s gone undercover to bust, seemingly your boyfriend, doesn’t notice that he’s bothered by your presence. “How’s it going?” He asks casually, jerking his head up in a greeting.

You fight hard to not react to seeing Marcus here of all places. The man you tried to escape from by going undercover is here and he looks just as shocked to see you even though he’s trying to conceal it. You see it in his eyes. “Hi.” You offer him a small smile and Tony pulls you into his side, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “He is here to help with the new route. Got a shipment coming in next week.” He says and you hum, caressing his chest. “I’d better go check in with Sally.” You say and he nods, leaning in to kiss you. You cringe internally and he smacks your ass as you walk away from him. You use all your effort to not turn back to look at Marcus and you try to focus on the op.

“Prime piece of ass.” Tony chuckles, turning and watching you walk away. Marcus wants to grimace at the way he manhandles you, but he’s more shocked by how easily he touches you. How are you sleeping with this douchebag? “Your girl.” He grunts, shrugging a shoulder as if it doesn’t matter to him. “I don’t touch someone else’s girl.”

Tony smirks, walking over to smack Marcus on the shoulder. “That’s what I like to hear.” He appraises Marcus as a loyal soldier who will work his way up the ladder fast. “She’s a freak in bed. Can’t keep her hands off me. She lets me do whatever the fuck I want.” He boasts, crossing his arms.

He wants to throw up, or throw a punch. His stomach flips as he thinks about what he has imagined, before Teresa and after, when he realized that he has pushed you away in favor of someone who obviously never loved him. It seems vulgar when it’s voiced out loud, because he knows that Tony doesn’t respect you to talk about you like that. “Those are the best kind of women.” He chuckles. “Does she have a sister?”

Tony chuckles, “I fucking wish. I’d have them both at the same time. Imagine that? Both sucking your cock? Goddamn.” He shakes his head at the thought. “I can tell you’re gonna be a good addition to the team.” He decides as he lowers his arms, “just stay away from my shit.”

“Not a problem.” He nods, mind racing because no one let him know you were here undercover. Why? Were you in too deep, had you flipped? He didn’t think so, because you hadn’t ratted him out to Tony. “I’m gonna go make some calls.” He tells the boss. “Make sure our shipment is on time.”

You slump down onto the bed as you process the fact that Marcus is here. He’s undercover and you haven’t seen him for months. You rub your eyes, feeling yourself tear up as you realize you’ve tried to escape the man only to realize that he’s probably still with Teresa. He’s probably still in love with her. You tried to escape him and you can’t. He’s here.

Once Marcus gets away from Tony, he immediately heads back to the apartment he had set up for this operation. Needing to talk to someone about this development and get some clarification on exactly that the fuck going on. Reeling from the fact that you are here undercover and he’s even farther away from you than he has ever been.

Your supervisor sees the contact from Marcus and snorts, “that was fast.” He picks up the phone and sighs, “Samson speaking. What’s up Pike?” He asks, knowing they are on a secure line right now. Marcus isn’t in too deep yet. Not like you.

“You gotta tell me what the fuck is going on.” He paces the small apartment as he talks, almost wishing that he smoked or something. His nerves are jittery and he feels guilty for some reason. He says your name. “Is- am I supposed to be her contact? Why did you send me in if she’s already here?”

Samson knew he’d be getting this call and he sighs, rubbing his cheek, “she’s in deep. We haven’t been able to get in touch with her without them getting suspicious and we wanted to know if she was okay. She needs someone else to help her close this down and get out alive. We didn’t brief you on her being there because we knew you would refuse the op. You need to work together to get this shut down. We can’t afford to put more resources into this.”

Marcus frowns, wondering why they would believe he would turn down the op. He loved working with you and was more than a little hurt that you left without saying goodbye. “Get her out alive.” He agrees, hoping that it’s just as easy as it sounds. “When was the last time she reported in?”

“Two weeks ago. She was supposed to report every few days. We wanted to know she hadn’t gotten in trouble…or worse…fallen in love with that asshole Tony. She knew what she’d have to do to get in with him but we hoped she didn’t fall for his bullshit. Do you think she’s gotten too deep?” He asks Marcus, knowing the last time he spoke to you you’d told your superior about how much you hated Tony but you are working hard to take them down from the inside.

“I don’t think so.” Marcus would never voice that kind of thing to your handler, knowing how detrimental it could be to your career. “She didn’t give me up and she was just as shocked as I was.” He sighs softly. “She’s doing what she has to do in order to get these assholes.”

“Yeah. Yeah. You’re right.” Samson nods, knowing you are a dedicated agent. “Keep an eye on her and when you get a chance, talk to her and tell her to get in touch.” He orders and Marcus says “yes sir.”

****

You are reeling from Marcus’s appearance and you pray you don’t see him often as you try to gather enough evidence against the Romano mafia to take them down without getting yourself killed. Fucking Tony was an inevitable but you loathe it. You would never admit it but you imagine Marcus when he’s inside you, closing your eyes and trying to imagine the man you love is fucking you. Tony expects you in his club later so you start to get ready, knowing he won’t allow you to leave the apartment without looking “like a fucking million dollar prostitute.” His words not yours. You’ll be expected to sit on his lap at the club but that’s good, you can observe at the club, find out the comings and goings of the shipments without seeming obvious.

“Hey boss.” Marcus answers the phone easily when Tony’s name flashes up. “Get ready.” Tony demands. “We are going out to the club tonight. Be a good time for you to meet the rest of the guys.” He chuckles. “And for me to see how you hold your liquor.” Marcus chuckles, although he’s not looking forward to drinking with this scumbag. He will have to make sure that it appears like he’s getting drunk, without imbibing too much. “Sounds good.” He agrees, listening to Tony rattle off the location of the club like Marcus doesn’t know it. He has a full file on all of Tony’s hangouts and it’s still annoying that they didn’t include information on you in that packet. “Be there at nine.” His boss demands before he hangs up without saying goodbye. Marcus sighs and wonders if you will be there tonight.

The club is busy when you and Tony arrive. Nearly stumbling on your heels when he drags you along to the VIP section. Some of his men are already there and you sigh in relief when you don’t see Marcus there. Tony sits down on the sofa, grabbing your waist to drag you into his lap and you giggle despite your skin crawling, his hand finding your bare thigh as your dress rises up. Tony orders your drink and you lean back against him just as you see Marcus speaking to the bodyguard who oversees the VIP section. He looks good in his jeans and leather jacket, his stubbled cheeks making him look rougher than the sweet and mild man you worked with.

Marcus wants to look at you. Your dress is nearly up to your waist, showing off legs for miles and you look sexy. But he can’t seem too interested, especially with Tony’s warning. Instead he glances around the club, clocking guards and security positioned around the VIP area. The mob boss keeps himself protected, so you being so close is actually a good thing. He hates it when he sees the bastard’s hand move up between your thighs and he hopes that giggle is just an Oscar worthy performance. “Busy night in here.” He comments, reaching out to shake Tony’s hand so he has to let you go.

Tony shakes his hand and you wrap your arm around the mob boss’s neck, making it look like you’re leaning in towards him. “Glad you could join us, Frankie.” He uses the name Marcus was given to go undercover. “Get yourself a drink. We got some top notch whiskey over there.” He gestures to the bar where a nearly naked woman is making the drinks for the men who work for Tony. Marcus nods, “thanks. I’ll definitely get a drink.” Tony smiles, his hand squeezing your thigh and he leans in to kiss your neck, making you giggle. You’re not sure how much time passes but soon Tony is talking to one of his men about a delivery happening in the early hours. From Russia. It makes your ears prick up but you pretend to play with Tony’s buttons, making him playfully squeeze your ass. “Baby, I gotta go powder my nose.” You announce and Tony snorts, “sure thing doll. Why don’t you have the new guy escort you?” He suggests and he snaps his fingers at Marcus who comes over, “yes boss?” He asks and Tony helps you stand, his hand smacking your ass. “My lady needs the bathroom. Escort her and make sure none of those assholes out there touch her. If I hear of anyone - anyone-” His eyes narrow at Marcus, “touching my girl, I’ll fucking kill them…and you. Understood?” He asks and Marcus nods, keeping his hands to himself and letting you guide the way to the bathrooms. The club is busy and you are glad to have this moment with Marcus to explain which is why you drag him into the women’s bathroom and lock the door. There’s no cameras in this area…Tony likes to do his exchanges here so no cameras means no evidence. “What the fuck are you doing here?” You ask Marcus when the door is locked.

“I was sent in to help you.” Marcus immediately cups your cheeks, as if touching you will help. He needs to make sure you are alright. “You didn’t- you just disappeared on me.” He huffs, knowing that he doesn’t have much time. “When you stopped checking in, they needed to make sure you weren’t in too deep. They called me in from Washington.”

You bat his hands away from your cheeks, confused by the touch and the concern in his eyes. “Why - I couldn’t check in. Tony basically has me with him all hours of the day or I’m guarded. It’s been impossible to make contact. Fuck, why did they send you? It’s dangerous, Marcus. They are dangerous. They are going to make you do things you don’t want to do.” You warn him, reaching for his hands, “why did Teresa let you do this?”

He’s not upset that you push him away, now when you take his hands almost immediately and he can feel how upset you are by the idea that he’s in danger. He smiles ruefully. “That’s not an issue.” He promises and you frown. “Why?” He didn’t really want to get into it, but he owes you an explanation. “She never came to D.C.” he tells you. “She stayed with Jane.”

Your eyes widen, “she - she left you for Jane?” You scoff, “is she fucking crazy?” You ask and Marcus just shrugs one shoulder. You can see he’s hurt and you squeeze his hands. “Fuck her. She’s an idiot. What are you doing here? It’s not safe. I- I am trying to get what we need but it’s taken time.”

“To help get you out in one piece.” Marcus doesn’t tell you that they’ve not told him about you until now, but that didn’t matter. “I can check in. I’ll have more freedom to pass intel.” He knows the two of you have been in here too long and it will be suspicious if you don’t go back out. “Powder your nose.” He tells you before he unlocks the door and slips outside.

You sigh, turning back to the mirror to reapply your lip gloss and you check your appearance, giving Marcus some time to return back to the VIP area before you make your way back to Tony. Your boyfriend smirks and reaches for you, “got your drink ready baby.” He gestures to the cocktail and you settle back on his lap, leaning in to softly kiss you.

Marcus looks away, feigning disinterest but his stomach churns as he looks out over the club. People are dancing and there’s plenty of beautiful people around, but he doesn’t care about that. You are too good for that scumbag to touch and it makes him sick that you’ve had to act like you like it. “Thank you, baby.” You coo, making Marcus realize he’s never heard that sweet, affectionate tone before. He’s never seen you with a boyfriend. “You are too good to me.”

Tony smacks your thigh playfully and you pray you can’t get him drunk enough that he passes out. You’ve fed him booze before so he falls asleep and you sleep naked, waking him up so he thinks you had sex. He’s fallen for it many times but sometimes he wants to go again so you’ve had to handle him fucking you in the morning. He leans in to kiss your neck as one of his men comes over to speak to him. You hum to the music, listening to the man, and you tilt your head, glancing around at Marcus.

He’s talking to one of the other men. The one that sets up the buyers. Trying to get some information from him in the hopes that this case will quickly be put to bed and you can get out of this situation.

You listen as Tony speaks to each man who approaches him. You pretend to bop to the music and caress Tony’s chest as you settle in his lap. This is the best way to learn information. No one pays attention to the lap candy. You’re just an accessory. You see Marcus mingling with the guys who run the goods and you are worried about him. He’s a good agent but he has no idea how intense this cover can be. Tony is violent and quick to kill. You’ve seen it with your own two eyes and you don’t want to see anything happen to Marcus. “Come on baby, let’s dance.” Tony says, dragging you out of your thoughts and you nod, standing up and holding your hand out towards him. He takes it and escorts you out of the VIP area. Everyone here knows he owns the club so they part and allow him to guide you into the middle of the dance floor, his hands gripping your waist to drag you back into his chest.

Marcus watches you for a moment. “Don’t look too interested.” Another Tony, his nickname Little Tony, grimaces. “Boss doesn’t like that. Even if he talks about her so you do want to look.” Marcus pulls his eyes away. “Don’t want to piss him off. He knows he’s in charge.” He agrees.

Tony is handsy and you spin in his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pull him closer. His hands slide down your back to squeeze your ass, his cock hardening against your hip, and you internally groan, not looking forward to him being horny tonight. You’ve been lucky that he has been too drunk to fuck you the past few nights. You glance over his shoulder to see Marcus standing there and you know this will be dangerous.

Marcus sips on the club soda he had gotten from the bar. While he knows that it might be back to Tony that he’s not drinking, he wants to stay as sober as possible, not willing to put you at risk. “Heeeeeey sweetheart.” A hand curls around his arm and he looks down to see a very perky blonde hanging off of him and batting her heavily mascaraed eyes up at him coyly. “You look lonely and you’re too cute to be lonely.”

Marcus looks sexy in his leather jacket and styled hair, making your heart flutter but you know he’s off limits but apparently not to the blonde who is now hanging off him. Your heart clenches and twists but you remind yourself of the hard truth. He doesn’t want you. He never did. He wanted Teresa and right now, he’s going to want to focus on the mission and apparently the cute blonde. Tony smirks and squeezes your ass to bring your attention back to him, grinding against you, and eventually he takes your hand to guide you back to the VIP area. “Baby girl, I got some business to take care of. Go entertain yourself.” He orders when his men approach and you pout, bending down to kiss him and he smacks your tit through your dress before you sway away from him, heading towards the bar where Marcus is standing with the blonde who is clinging to him. You ignore her and wave the bartender over but she is practically dry humping Marcus. “You got a problem?” She scoffs in your direction and you snort, “not at all, honey. Just watching you act like a desperate chihuahua.”

Marcus chuckles as the girl on his arm bristles, obviously spoiling for a fight. “That’s not nice, sweetheart.” He chides you playfully. “This is the boss's girl.” He tells the poor woman before she gets into some shit she can’t get out of. “Might not want to start that fight. Besides, I’m not the man for you.”

“That’s right, babe. You mess with me and Tony will make sure everyone you know suffers.” You warn her and she gulps, clearly having family that works for your boyfriend. You smirk when she backs down, lowering her hand from his arm and she offers you a narrowed glare when she pushes past you. “That was harsh.” Marcus murmurs when you lean against the bar and he turns towards you. “She deserved it. Sniffing around like a horny dog. Women can be worse than men.” You confess and Marcus chuckles, “didn’t know you were so protective.” You lean closer, “this world is dangerous. It’s dog eat dog and I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“I’m a grown ass man.” Marcus snorts. “You think I can’t handle this? That I’m too soft?” One of the things that his ex wife had said was that he was too sweet. Now that Teresa had walked all over him, the idea that you think that too grates on his nerves. Tony glances over at the two of you and Marcus frowns. “You don’t fuckin’ know me.” He sneers, turning to walk away.

You watch him stride off and your stomach clenches at his tone. You’re worried that he will get found out while trying to protect you. Tony soon appears behind you, his hands on your hips as he leans in to ask what that was about. “Oh nothing. One of the girls questioned me and he told her to fuck off. I told him I didn’t need protection and he stalked off. I’m fine, baby.” You promise him and Tony chuckles, biting down on your shoulder, “my possessive baby. I fucking love it.” You giggle and spin, pressing your lips to his and you wonder where Marcus went. Hopefully you’ll see him soon.

Marcus works his way around the club, buddying up to some of Tony’s men. Making it seem like he’s trying to feel them out when he is probing for information. They open up to him, a few of them at least, others brush him off. Not wanting to let anyone closer to the boss than they are.

****

“Tony!” You moan, your voice breaking as he fucks you while you lay on the edge of his pool. You squeal, but in reality you are bored out of your mind. You hate the man and you have faked every single orgasm you’ve ever had with him. This is part of the job. The way to get him to relinquish information so you can eventually take him down. It’s mid morning, anyone could see you out here but Tony doesn’t care as he fucks you after you decided to have your morning swim. Little do you know that Marcus has arrived and Tony’s men are watching you on the cameras.

“Hey man, is the boss around?” Marcus asks. “Gotta talk to him about this next shipment.” He glances around, curious to see you here. He feels guilty about that night in the club, knowing that you might have taken it personally. He doesn’t want that. He overreacted and you don’t deserve that. Not when you are already stressed from being undercover. Little Tony snickers. “Yeah, he’s around. Wanna see him?” He waves him on and walks towards an open door, the room filled with TVs and shows security cameras of every single inch of the property. The one in the middle with the biggest screen is a feed of the pool. His eyes widen when he sees you splayed out, legs up as Tony pistons in and out of your pussy. “Fuck.”

You moan, pretending to be enjoying this when you want to stab the man above you and end this bullshit undercover op but you can’t. You have to play the long game. Sacrificing your body to get the truth you need to take him down, you watch Tony grunt above you. Your ass is sore from the hard tile beneath you and you clench around him, needing him to finish. “That’s it, baby. Fuck. Cum for me. Cum for daddy.” He demands and you nearly gag. “Oh fuck daddy!” You cry, squeezing his cock to pretend you’re cumming, slumping onto the tile and your chest heaves.

Marcus swallows harshly, wanting to turn away, but Little Tony slaps his arm, looking at him. “Fuck, don’t you wish you were him?” He grunts. “Look at those tits shake. He said she’s tighter than a fucking glove, and the boss talks a big game, but my dick is bigger.” He hates how you are being displayed, watched, talked about, but he just nods. Unable to take his eyes off of you and feeling disgusting for the way his cock actually twitches as he imagines himself in Tony’s place. “Lucky bastard.” He manages, being honest for once.

You watch Tony move above you and finally he pushes deep to fill you up. You moan his name and he grunts, painting your walls and you are grateful you have your IUD and you’ve gone to get checked. You caress his arms, squashing down the urge to push him away and you pant, resting your head on the tiled floor as he works himself through it.

“Fuck I love when Tony gets tired of his girls.” The other Tony hums. “We get to play for awhile before we get rid of them.”

“Getting rid of them?” Marcus frowns and the men chuckle. Little Tony nods and says “yeah. We get to fuck then to death. Kill them so they don’t yap about what’s going on around here. Tony doesn’t like unresolved messes. Some of the girls get a little heartbroken, start talking to the police. Shit gets messy. He likes things kept clean.”

He’s got to get you out of here. He didn’t know that women were going missing, it wasn’t in any of the reports and files. “That makes it easy.” He grunts. “Although I’m sure that you’d want her to last for a little while longer.” He hums. “Enjoy her.”

Little Tony nods, “I’d take my fucking time with her don’t worry. Can’t do shit right now because the boss would chop my dick off but when he’s done? Shit, she’s gonna be fucking split in half.” He chuckles and Marcus chuckles but his eyes are dark in anger.

****

You scrub your skin, desperate to wash his touch from your body, and you wrap your robe around you when you are dry, making your way out into the bedroom. You gasp when you see Marcus standing there. “What are you doing here?”

Marcus frowns, trying to forget the way your body had looked on the security camera. “We need to talk.” He tells you quickly, aware that there are too many cameras around to spend much time around you. “I’m looking for Tony.” He tells you, looking around.

You shake your head, “he’s left. Gone to the warehouse to oversee the latest shipment.” You reveal knowing that’s too much information but you want him to pass that on to the handler. “Is there anything I can help you with?” You tilt your head to show him there’s no cameras in this room. Tony would never allow that.

Marcus relaxes slightly and reaches for your arm to pull you closer. Even if there are no cameras, he can’t risk someone overhearing him. “You have to get out of here.” He hisses quietly. “Tony kills the women when he gets bored with them. After letting his men have them.”

You swallow harshly, seeing the terror in his eyes, and you nod. “I know about that. That’s why - it’s why I’ve had to do what I’ve had to do with Tony. To buy time. I need to be a freak in bed to keep him interested.” You confess shamefully, “I am buying time to take him down. I need that one big break.”

“Fuck.” Marcus swallows harshly and shakes his head. “We need to take him down, now.” He insists, not wanting you in any danger. “You shouldn’t have taken this assignment, sweetheart.”

You nod, knowing he’s right and you sigh, shaking your head, “I’ve tried so hard to get this closed but Tony is ruthless and he seems to change his plan every time I manage to get the information across. I need you to help me but it’s going to be dangerous. You need to be careful and don’t trust anyone.”

“I don’t trust anyone here but you.” Marcus promises, reaching out and taking your hand to squeeze it. “We’re going to take him down and get you out of this. I promise you.” He sighs. “I want you to be careful too. Don’t make him suspicious. Act like you hate me or I annoy you.”

You look down at your hand in his, your heart thumping in your chest as you think about how dangerous this is and you hope nothing happens to him. “We will take him down. There’s a shipment happening tonight. Find out about it. Pass the information on.” You order quietly, “and you need to go. Before anyone finds us.”

He nods, looking into your eyes. “You are so fucking brave.” He murmurs softly, wishing he didn’t have to leave you here. “Let me know if you need me.”

You offer him a smile, your heart clenching at his soft eyes and you pray he is safe as he dives deep into this underworld you’ve been immersed in.

Later, you are sitting down with Tony, running your fingers along his arm while he examines the new routes available from his scouts. Marcus is standing across the room, not yet privy to this delicate information but you will inform him when you can.

You lean in to kiss Tony’s neck, your stomach twisting with disgust but you hum when he squeezes your thigh in his hand. You smirk, “once this business is taken care of, we can sit in the hot tub. Enjoy that new whiskey you bought.” You murmur and he chuckles, sliding his hand higher, “let’s get this shit settled.” He points at Marcus, “get your guy ready and let’s get this done so I can come back to some pussy.”

Marcus nods. “Right away.” He agrees, stepping out to make a call to the field agent that is covering him on the outside. They will set up a sting operation, but this one will actually be the evidence they need to send this asshole away. They need to show him selling the stolen goods, not just receiving them.

You watch Marcus step out and you hope the drop goes off without a hitch with the field agent. You need to get out of here before Tony realizes who you really are or before he grows bored of you. Either way, you’re dead. Tony turns his head to kiss you, “gotta go take care of business but you know I’ll be back and you’d better be naked and waiting in the hot tub for me.” He smirks and you giggle, watching Marcus come back into the room moments later.

“Tony, we’re ready.” He nods at the other man, his eyes flickering over to you briefly. “Why don’t we go out after the drop?” He suggests, wanting to keep you from having to put up with Tony’s touch. Or at least delay it some. “Celebrate?”

Tony hums, unsure until he sees the eager faces of his men so he nods, “let’s go to the club. Dress up, baby. Dress to impress.” He orders and you almost snort like you don’t wear what he wants you to wear. “Let’s go out.” You agree, caressing his arm.

Marcus flashes a pleased grin. “Good, now maybe we can get lucky too.” All the other men chuckle and Little Tony slaps him on the back. Soon enough, the men are filing out of the room to leave you alone. Marcus never looked back at you before he left.

****

The music is loud as you glance around the club. The VIP section is full of Tony’s friends and men and you watch your “boyfriend” as he jokes with his men. Marcus is leaning against the bar and your eyes meet his for a moment as you sip your drink. You’ve been left alone on the sofa and you sigh, knowing that once this mission is over, you will need to handle your feelings for Marcus once and for all. You sip your drink again and Tony notices, striding over, “don’t get drunk.” He warns you and you scoff, feeling a little rebellious. You’ve had this asshole ruling your life for far too long and you want him taken down. “I’ll do what I want.” You retort, feeling emboldened and spiteful.

Tony frowns, not liking the way you are talking back. “Don’t piss me off, baby.” He growls. “You won’t like the consequences.” He warns, reaching down and snatching your drink away from you and slamming it down on the table. Marcus sees the confrontation and he quickly pushes away from the bar with the drink he’s not even taken a sip of. “Here boss.” He slaps Tony on the back, interrupting him before he can say anything else to you. “Bought you a drink.”

Tony turns back to Marcus, eyebrows raised as he takes the drink from his hand. “Thanks man.” He says and turns to look back at you, “you need to go home.” Tony demands and you scoff, “send me home. I don’t care.”

Tony raises his hand, and for a second, Marcus thinks he’s going to backhand you. Tensing slightly because he knows he can’t just watch him hit you. Except, the man thinks better of it and chuckles as he brings his hand down. “You must be on the rag.” He snorts, turning towards Marcus. “Take her the fuck home.” He orders. “Make sure she’s not fucking around.”

You want to slap Tony, almost wish you had your gun, but you huff and glare at him, “I just wanted a drink baby.” Tony shakes his head, “I don’t wanna hear it. Just go home. Take her home.” He orders Marcus, knowing the new guy won’t want to be on his bad side and risk his ass so he trusts Marcus to get you back safe and sound. “I’ll see you later.” Tony raises his eyebrows and you nod, standing to walk with Marcus out of the club.

Marcus huffs slightly as he waits for you to gather your purse and your coat. Making it seem like he’s impatient as he shoves his hands in his pockets to keep from helping you into the jacket. He would if he wasn’t undercover. “That sucks man.” Little Tony snorts and Marcus grunts in agreement, “there goes my chances to get some pussy thought.” Marcus tells him, clapping him on the back. “So get your wick dipped for me too.”

You scoff, “you’re both disgusting.” Little Tony chuckles and winks at Marcus, “she’s just jealous.” You smirk, leaning closer, “you better not let Tony hear you talking like that otherwise you don’t have dick to get wet.” You warn and Little Tony nods, gulping a little. You chuckle and adjust your coat, glancing back at Marcus, “well come on then. The naughty girl has to go home.” You click your tongue and stride ahead, ignoring the glances from the club goers as you leave without Tony by your side.

Marcus doesn’t touch you, knowing that there are plenty of eyes on you as you exit the building. Walking towards his car beside you and reaching for his keys. “In you go.” He huffs, snorting to himself when you roll your eyes and shoot him a glare. Playing up your roles perfectly.

You huff as you slide into the passenger seat after he opens the door and he slams it hard before he makes his way around to the driver’s side. When he’s inside and pulling out of the parking lot, you turn to look at him. “Thank you. You bought me some time tonight.” You sigh in relief, tilting your head back against the headrest.

“I thought I was going to blow my cover.” He admits quietly. “I wouldn’t have been able to stand by if he hit you.” He guides the car towards Tony’s house. “The exchange went well, we are close.” He tells you, giving you all the details from the drop. “Now we just need to catch him moving the goods so he can’t claim he didn’t know they were stolen.”

You can’t wait for this to be over. “Let’s get the bastard. He’s, uh, not really physically violent but he’s verbal…some of the things he’s called me.” You confess and you notice how Marcus grips the steering wheel a little harder. “It’s okay, Marc. It’s all part of the op. I knew who he was when I took the mission. I just never expected it would take so long. I can’t wait for it to be over.” You confess softly, looking out the window.

“Why did you take it?” That question has been haunting him. You used to talk to him about everything, right down to what to have for dinner that night. “You didn’t say anything about it and then just….disappeared.” His tone is hurt, because that’s how he feels.

His question makes your throat tighten and you look down at your hands, “I, um, I took it to escape. I didn’t want - it doesn’t really matter now.” You say but he tuts, not accepting that answer, “of course it matters.” You sigh and tangle your fingers together, “I took it to get away from the office…from you. I couldn’t - it was too much to watch you be with Teresa.”

“Teresa?” That surprises him and he frowns as he twists around to look at you at the next red light. “What did Teresa have to do with anything? We were friends, partners.” He huffs.

You sigh, knowing that this mission is dangerous and the best way to navigate getting out alive is to be honest. You’ve had a lot of time to think about Marcus since you’ve been away from him. “It’s hard to watch your partner…your friend, be with another woman when you’re in love with him.” You confess softly, bracing yourself for rejection.

His mouth drops open in shock, surprised by that. He had never known, had an inkling that you had any feelings for him beyond friendship. “What?” He manages. “You- why, why didn’t you tell me?” He asks finally, jumping slightly when the car behind him honks the horn after the light turns green. He has to look away from you, but he’s desperate for you to answer him.

You swallow harshly, your throat clenching, “I- I was scared and I didn’t think you wanted me. I didn’t know - we are partners. Friends. You have always been dating and I haven’t. I figured you don’t feel the same way so I kept quiet. It breaks my heart but I can’t - I had to get away from you when you were marrying her.” You confess softly, “I had to go before my heart broke.”

“Fuck.” Marcus reaches over and takes your hand, threading his fingers through yours. “Of course I was attracted to you. Halfway in love with you from the first week. But I didn’t-“ he shakes his head. “We were partners, I was afraid of fucking that up, so I - it’s why I asked Teresa out.” He admits. “I liked her, but I knew that if I didn’t start focusing my attention somewhere, my feelings for you would get me into trouble.”

You blink to stop yourself from crying. You’ve had to put your body on the line to save your heart when really it would’ve been safe with Marcus. “I love you.” You murmur, “I still do. I was scared. Scared to get hurt by you because you - you’re so amazing and you deserve the world. You deserved better than Teresa.”

“When you left, I was so hurt.” He admits quickly, his voice low. “You were the first person I wanted to call, about anything.” He sighs softly. “I should have known that it wouldn’t have worked out then, but I’m stubborn. And an idiot.” He snorts, squeezing your hand gently. “I love you too.”

“You must be so ashamed of me. Giving my body to a criminal like I have.” You close your eyes as he drives you back to Tony’s. “I need to get out of here. I need to take him down.” You choke, opening your eyes and you look down at your joined hands.

“Ashamed of you?” Marcus frowns and shakes his head. “Never.” He promises, his voice slightly stern. “I would never be ashamed of you for giving everything you are to take this bastard down. You are so brave and I’m in awe of you.”

You shake your head, “the things I’ve had to do. I need - I want to replace his touch.” You confess, “I hate him. I feel sick when he’s inside me but I am fighting to take him down.”

“I saw.” Marcus admits quietly, shame lacing his words. “That first day I came to the house, the guys were watching on the security cameras. Then they were talking about when they got to have you.” He hisses. “They aren’t going to fucking touch you, I promise.”

Your eyes close in shame and you hate that Marcus saw you like that. “I’m not stupid. I've heard the comments. I know what they want. That’s why I’m trying to take Tony down as fast as possible. That’s why I didn’t check in. I couldn’t risk it.”

“I know.” He lifts your hand and kisses the back of it gently. “We will take this bastard down and get you out of here.” He bites his lip. “Then we can see what happens between us?” He asks hopefully, knowing you might need some time to process being undercover.

You nod and smile, knowing you definitely want to see where this goes with Marcus but you’ll need time to process being with Tony and immersed in this world. You squeeze his hand and let him continue driving you back to the house that’s become your home for the past three months.

He sighs as he pulls up to the large house. “I’m going to call in tonight,” he promises you, “see when we can get a ‘buyer’ set up through one of the other guys to keep it from looking too suspicious. I want you out of there.” He stops at the gate. “I wish I was taking you somewhere, anywhere, else.”

You sigh, “me too. Sometimes I lie in his bed and wonder if it would be easier to just stab him in his sleep. Sneak a knife in from dinner and end it all but that doesn’t end the business. We need to stop the shipments and the only way to do that is to discover his contacts. It takes time.” You murmur and watch as the gate opens.

“We are close to the end.” Marcus promises softly. Although he’s concerned about how deep you are, how quick Tony could tire of you. He’s not going to sit back and let you get killed for this. He pulls through the gate. “At least you will have the house to yourself.”

You sigh as he pulls up, turning to look at him, and you don’t want him to go just yet. “I know where the cameras have blank spots. You can come inside if you want. Tony won’t be back for hours. He will probably be drunk and high off his own supply. Can you - can you come inside? I don’t want to be alone just yet.” You murmur, looking down at your joined hands.

It’s dangerous and he knows that. But he also knows that it’s dangerous for you to feel like you are alone. “Yeah.” He agrees, looking around. “I can ‘leave’ and park down the road so it looks like I left.” He murmurs. “Where can I get back in?”

“There’s a back door in the alley. That’s where the goods are brought in and out the house. Tony doesn’t like that to be recorded on camera. You can go through the garden which only has cameras on the perimeter and come to the back door. I’ll open it for you.”

“Okay.” He doesn’t hesitate even though you are both playing with fire. He tells himself that it will be a chance to search for things that would incriminate Tony even more, although he knows that he’s not thinking about that. He’s thinking more about making sure you are okay, knowing the toll of playing someone else for so long is taking on you. He’s been undercover for months to get to this point and you’ve been under longer than he has. “Give me five minutes.” He murmurs.

You nod, “be careful. Tony has guards patrolling but they usually are fucking around instead of walking around.” You tell him and he nods, putting the car in park so he can get out and open your door. You take his hand to get out and you squeeze it, “I’ll see you in five minutes.” He nods and you watch him drive off, your heart pounding as you walk inside the house and wait for him to return.

Marcus makes sure that he is off the cameras before he parks, tucking his car between a couple of others in a parking lot and quickly locking the door before jogging around towards the back of the property. He makes it seem like he’s lost, but looking for something in case he runs into one of the guards, but luckily no one is around. Jumping over the fence and to the back door quietly to wait for you to open it.

You are glad the house is quiet. Most of the men are at the club or occupied so you quietly open the back door and Marcus walks in, glancing around. “It’s clear.” You promise and take his hand, escorting him through the house to an area you know will be safe in case anyone comes back. “We are good here.” You promise, shutting the door to the small living room.

“What is this place?” Marcus asks, looking around at the surprisingly cozy room. “This is where Tony goes when he’s talking business.” She explains. “That’s why there are no cameras.”

Marcus nods and you guide him over to the sofa, squeezing his hand once you’re sat down. You shuffle a little closer to him, looking down at your joined hands, “so we need to talk about what happens next. I need you to forget that you love me. You can’t react when the guys say shit or when Tony is a little rough with me. Or he touches me. I’ve worked hard to make sure Tony trusts me and I don’t want you to get into trouble. Tony is possessive so if you start looking pissed, he’s going to cotton on.”

“I know.” Marcus nods. “I won’t put you in any more danger, baby. I promise you that. You and I don’t know each other until this is done.” He reaches out and caresses your cheek. “But you remember that I’m here. That I love you, that I’m proud of you.”

You smile, tilting your head into his touch, and you murmur his name. He leans closer to nudge his nose against yours, giving you a moment to pull back but you close the gap. Your lips meet his and it’s like electricity sparks through you as he tilts your head to deepen the kiss.

It’s stupidly dangerous to do this, but he can’t help himself. The taste of your lips is instantly addictive and he needs to feel you just a little. To show you that he was honest about not being ashamed of you. His hands wind around you and pull you close, groaning into your mouth when your tongue touches his.

You cling to him, loving how he tastes and how he feels. You moan into his mouth, sliding your tongue against his, and your heart is pounding. You know it’s unlikely that anyone could walk in but the possibility has your pulse racing.

Marcus closes his eyes, holding you as tight as he can without suffocating you. Feeling his cock starting to harden as you press yourself against him. Huffing in embarrassment as he pulls away so you don’t feel it. “I’m- I’m sorry, baby.” He pants softly.

You shake your head, caressing his chest, “I want you, Marcus. I’d ride you right here right now but I love you too much to do that. Tony - we don’t use condoms and I need to get tested. I respect you too much to risk you. Soon. I promise. Soon.” You vow, pecking his lips.

“I don’t want you to think I’m like those other animals.” He grunts, kissing you back. “I don’t just want you because you are sexy. I want everything with you. Your joy and pain, your fears, and happiness. I want to build a life with you after all this.”

You grin, cupping his cheek, “I want that too. I want to see what we can be. I want everything with you. A whole life.” You promise and he grins, nudging his nose against yours. “You need to go. Before he comes back. I don’t want them to find you here.” You say, shifting to stand from the sofa.

He doesn’t want to leave you here, but he has to. Getting up, he pulls you close again and presses his lips to your gently. “I’ll be by tomorrow morning.” He murmurs. “I’ll check in and hope they have good news for us.”

You nod, silently hoping that your team will come in and handle Tony sooner rather than later. Marcus winks at you and you guide him through the house until he’s at the back door. “I love you. Stay safe.” You demand and he nods, dragging you close to kiss you until you’re breathless. Your heart flutters when he winks at you again and disappears. He loves you. Marcus loves you and you need to get out of here so you can see what you can become.

****

It’s been weeks since that night and the case is starting to stall. Tony seems hesitant to move the product and Marcus feels like he’s beating his head against the wall. He’s been aloof, spending more time in the club and there’s a sincere fear that he’s starting to get bored with you. He sips his drink as he watches you curl around Tony and cuts his eyes away so he doesn’t give anything away.

You see the way Tony looks at the woman hovering near the VIP area. Her dance moves clearly meant to entice him and it’s working. His grip on your thigh loosens and his eyes trail along her form. Your days are numbered. He’s losing interest and you know what that means. You’ll be given to his men. You still have a few days but you need to act fast. Your eyes find Marcus hovering near the bar and you can see how tense he is. He knows too. Time is running out and you need to do something before you both end up dead.

Marcus turns towards Little Tony. “How’s your contact feeling?” He asks casually. “I’m ready to make some money off this deal already. We’ve been holding onto everything for too long.”

Little Tony taps his fingers against the bar, “I reckon we can get the contact to move in a few days. I’ll get a time and place to meet up. I wanna get rid of this shit and Tony is getting distracted by new toys. Good fucking news for us. Looks like baby doll over there will be our next hand me down. We can strap her down, take our fucking time with her.” He waggles his eyebrows, “I’ve seen you watching her. You wanna get your dick wet in that pussy. I can tell.”

Marcus knows he can’t deny it, but he shrugs. “She’s a prime piece of ass.” He grins, even though he hates talking about you like this, he has to sell it. “If the boss is tired of her, I want to see if she’ll squeal for me like she does him.” He takes a sip of his drink as Little Tony chuckles.

“Don’t worry man. She will be ours soon.” He promises and Marcus smirks, letting his gaze drift back over to you and you are sipping your drink. You need to get away from Tony and soon.

****

“Baby, I’m going to have my nails done.” You tell Tony and he nods, not even looking up from his phone. “Get red.” He demands and you smile, “of course, baby. Wanna see my new nails while I jerk you off later?” You coo, leaning against his desk and he grunts, typing away from his phone. You sigh and push away, leaving him in peace and you know your time is limited. Tony doesn’t care about you right now so you manage to drive yourself to the clinic. You want to get tested - you’ve gotten tested regularly during this op to make sure that asshole hasn’t given you something. You greet the receptionist and soon you’re on the way to the nail salon, awaiting the results of your tests. You pay to have them expedited to give you peace of mind. You check your phone and the message from Marcus comes through on the burner phone you gave him to text you. “Heading to the location now.” He says and you swallow harshly, nervous for this to go off without a hitch. “Be careful.” You reply, “Tony is getting restless. We need the team to be there tonight.” You reply, knowing that you need Tony to be taken down tonight.

“Got it.” He replies and closes the phone to tuck away in the car. He’s nervous and he’s never really been nervous when it comes to a bust. Something feels odd but he can’t put his finger on it. Something small but he shakes it off, thinking that it’s just relief that the end is in sight and worrying about getting you out of the op unharmed. The cars pull up and the warehouse is empty, making Marcus frown as he gets out of the car and walks over to where Tony is getting out of his. “Looks like we are early.”

Tony nods, cracking his knuckles as he walks towards Marcus. “Yeah. Early. Looks like we gotta hang around and wait for them and you know how much I fucking hate waiting…especially when it’s waiting for the fucking feds.” Tony looks at Marcus with raised eyebrows, letting him know that he knows.

Dread swirls in Marcus’s stomach but his eyes narrow and he frowns. “Feds?” He asks, feigning confusion as he tries to play it off. Hoping that the team is closing in. His cover has been blown. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Tony scoffs, “don’t play fucking dumb. I know who you are. You’re a fucking fed. Little Tony saw you texting on some fucking burner phone and what a surprise when I found out who you’ve been texting. The whore that has been sharing my bed. Little Tony has been my right hand man. He realized you’ve been talking and I thought it was a fucking affair but then I did some digging and guess what I found? You’re a fucking fed.”

Shit. Marcus shakes his head, holding his hands up. “I don’t know what he’s been feeding you, but I’m no fucking fed.” He lies. “I’m the one who gave you this deal. Your right hand man is jealous of you. Fucker probably set this up to get rid of me and make you give him your girl. He’s been talking about how he’ll make her scream better than you ever could.” He tells him, playing against his vanity. “Fucker watches you with her every time on the cameras.”

Tony turns to look at little Tony who shakes his head, “I swear boss. I was gonna take your sloppy seconds. I just - I like to watch, okay? I’m a freak. But this motherfucker? He’s a fucking fed. He’s working for the goddamn FBI. I saw him meeting a fed. You know my cousin, Big Anthony? He has a guy on the inside and he recognized this fucker but couldn’t figure out where from until we did some digging. Listen man, I want your girl but this dude is trying to take you down.”

“So you admit that you’re watching.” Marcus snorts. “But you should have heard him. Talking about how he could run things better. How you aren’t good enough to keep your girl. He’s trying to undermine things and I’m telling you he wants to eliminate the men who actually have your back.” Tony looks torn, and it’s a good thing. If he can plant a seed of doubt, it might save his and your lives. “He wants to be you. He tells all the guys to stop calling him Little Tony.”

Tony is fuming, torn between believing Little Tony and believing Marcus. There’s no hard evidence that he’s seen that proves Marcus is a fed. He turns to look at the shorter man, his eyes a little wild, and he has seen the hunger in his eyes. The desire to take what is his. To be him. It happens in a blink of an eye but one second Little Tony is standing there pleading his case and the next he’s on the floor, blood pouring from the bullet wound in his head.

Marcus jumps, startled by how quickly Tony had turned on his faithful right hand man. While everything Marcus had said was true, Little Tony was too much of a coward to ever challenge his boss. He continues to hold up his hands when Tony turns towards him, his heart pounding as the gun is still raised. “Tony- man-“ he starts to try to talk the man down, but there is a shout from outside and the sounds of gunfire erupts.

Marcus ducks as the vans squeal into the warehouse, feds jumping from them with guns raised and Tony isn’t dumb. He raises his hands after dropping the gun. Marcus raises his hands and the feds rush him, grabbing his arms to slap cuffs on him to keep up the image that he’s not a fed. He doesn’t need anyone hearing he works for the FBI if Tony talks.

You are leaving the nail salon when a van pulls up and you immediately tensing up and wish you had your gun on you but you relax when Agent Johnson gets out of the van. “Agent. It’s over. We got him.” He tells you and you feel like your heart is going to explode in relief. “Marcus? Where’s Agent Pike?” You ask, worried and Johnson chuckles, jerking his head, and he walks around to the back of the van to open the doors. “Agent Pike is under arrest.” Johnson jokes and gestures for you to get in. “Could you-?” Marcus asks, looking up at his cuffed hands. Johnson had made a show of cuffing him to the grab bar. “Not yet.” Johnson teases and you get into the back of the van. The car you’d driven to the nail salon will get seized with the rest of Tony’s assets. You sit opposite Marcus as Johnson slams the doors shut to take you both to debriefing and you look at Marcus. “It’s over.” You whisper, almost unable to believe it.

“Even if Tony gets off on the original charges, he executed Little Tony right in front of me.” He tells you, making your eyes widen in surprise. “He’s never going to get off on those murder charges.” He promises. “You are free.”

“Shit.” You murmur, processing the fact that Little Tony is dead. You’re free and you’re safe. You will get the details later but for right now, you surge across the gap to press your lips to Marcus, his hands still handcuffed and you straddle him to kiss him, cupping his cheeks.

Marcus grunts in surprise, eyes widening when you kiss him. Only to flutter closed in pleasure as he realizes that he can kiss you. Sure he might get some shit from Johnson, but he doesn’t care. Letting you take care and feel like you are in control, knowing that you need this to feel like it’s real. He kisses you back, chasing your lips when you pull away.

You whimper when his tongue pushes into your mouth and you feel him hardening beneath you. Both of you are running on the high of catching the criminal and you are getting wet from the fact that you can be with Marcus now.

You grind down on him so deliciously that Marcus can't help the soft moan that is breathed into your mouth. euphoric that you both made it out, he feels you start to rock your hips as you dig your fingers into his hair.

You whimper into his mouth, pulling back a moment later, “I need you. I got tested today. I’m clean. Can I - can I fuck you?” You whisper, kissing his jaw and you stop grinding down onto him, knowing you need him to think clearly.

He should say no, wait until you've had some time to visit the therapist that will be mandatory for you to see after being undercover. But he sees the desperation in your eyes, the need to feel anything else other than the stress and disgust you have been feeling during this op. "I'm yours." He promises, turning his head and pressing his lips to yours. "Do whatever you want to me, baby."

You moan, shifting off of him to stand up, nearly falling but you manage to shove your panties down, kicking them aside until you straddle Marcus. Your hands fumble as you work on his belt and unbuttoning his pants until you can pull his hardening cock out. “Fuck, Marcus.” You marvel at how thick he is in your grip.

“Shit.” He hisses, twitching in your hand and groaning when you squeeze him before slowly pumping his cock. “I- I’m clean.” He promises you. “Got- fuck- got tested before going undercover and I haven’t slept with anyone.” He confesses, knowing that you might have thought he had taken someone home at least once.

You nod, shifting to lift yourself and position his cock at your entrance. You are wet for him, the very idea of him, and you start to sink down onto him as you cup his cheeks, pressing your lips against his.

He knows you can’t be too loud, the agents up front would be able to hear you. Still he wants you to moan. The soft inhale of breath drives him crazy. He wants to snap his hips up and bury himself in the hot clutch of your warmth, but he lets you slowly sink down on him. “Fuuuuuuuuck.” He breathes out quietly.

Your breath mingles as you pull back for a second and you nod in agreement, “you’re stretching me out. She was a fucking fool.” You murmur, starting to rock your hips. “I love you.” You whisper before you kiss him.

He’s not thinking about Teresa right now, so your words confuse him for a moment. Grinning against your lips when he realizes what you are meaning. “I love you too.” He promises, knowing that Teresa leaving him is for the best, he could help you out of this op and get to be with you.

You cling to him, the van jostling you, and you moan into his jaw when the angle makes your walls clench around him. His fingers flex in the handcuffs and you wish his hands were free so he could touch you but you kind of like having this power. You bounce on his cock, your hands caressing his neck as you watch him.

It’s wild, primal and scandalous, but he loves it. His jaw is clenched as you fuck him, his cock aching every time you clench around him. “Fuck, baby.” He groans quietly. “Use me, ride my cock.”

You won’t deny him or yourself and you rock harder and faster, your moans smothered as you bury your face in his hair. The van jostles you but you reach up to grab his cuffed wrists to keep yourself steady as you ride him.

Marcus grunts, loving how frantic you are. Later, he will spread you out and take his time, but right now you both need this. “Good girl, that’s it.” He croons.

You are getting closer just from the thought of being with Marcus like this. His croon makes you gasp as you rock down onto his cock, getting closer and closer to your high. “Oh fuck, Marc.” You choke, letting go of his wrists to cup his cheeks, pressing your lips to his to stop your cry reaching Agent Johnson as you clamp down on Marcus’s cock.

Marcus groans against your lips and wishes he could wrap his arms around you. Wanting to draw you closer. “Cum for me, sweetheart.” He begs softly. Needing to feel you come apart for him. This isn’t some lurid show on a camera where Tony is railing you, you are taking your own pleasure from him.

It’s impossible to deny his plea and you whimper, clamping down on his cock and your thighs shake as you cry against his mouth, unable to stop yourself from letting him know how good this feels. “Marcus. Cum for me.” You beg breathlessly, barely able to rock your hips.

Marcus shudders, his hips bucking up as he gives in to your demand. Body stiffening and his cock starts to throb inside your pulsing walls. He moans your name and starts to fill you. Hot ropes of cum start painting your walls.

You gasp at the feel of his hot cum filling you up and you press your lips to his, rocking your hips to work you both through your highs until finally you slump against him. Panting to catch your breath, you gasp his name and kiss his neck.

“Fuck. Fuck.” He chuckles quietly as he tries to catch his breath. “That’s something I never thought would happen.” He admits, turning his head and nudging his nose against yours before kissing you softly. The van is still moving and he hums. “Go out with me tonight.” He asks. “Let me take you out to celebrate.”

You jostle when the van goes over a pothole and you cling to Marcus as he starts to soften inside you. “We are gonna have a shit ton of debriefing and psych evals, but yes. I’ll go out with you.” You grin and you realize you’ll be back at HQ soon so you reluctantly shift off of him, reaching for your panties to pull them on so his cum doesn’t leak down your thighs and you work on tucking him back into his pants.

He watches you closely, admiring how you are so poised. You are strong, really strong. “I don’t deserve you.” He tells you. “I was such an idiot, and I’m sorry I hurt you. I didn’t- I wish I had known. It could have saved us both so much heartache.”

You sigh, your palms resting on his thighs, “we didn’t know how the other felt and it wasn’t - neither of us wanted to risk our partnership…our friendship. I didn’t want to be the reason why you looked at me like I had ruined everything so I decided it was easier to leave. We are here now, baby. That’s all that matters. There are so many “what ifs”, but we can’t change the past.”

“No we can’t.” He wishes he could hold you, but he settles for leaning forwards to kiss you again. “I’m going to kick Johnson’s ass for keeping me handcuffed.” He snorts, smiling when you giggle.

You sit opposite Marcus when Johnson opens the van after stopping and he grins, "fuck me, it smells like sex in here. What did you two get up to?" He teases, seeing Marcus's ruffled hair. Your cheeks burn but you wink at Marcus, "just doing what we should've done a long time ago." Johnson nods, "amen to that. Everyone had a fucking bet going until Pike fucked it up and proposed to Teresa. Anyway, let's get you two debriefed." He says, stepping in to uncuff Marcus.

Marcus snorts. “Coulda let me know, pal.” He tells the other agent sarcastically as the key unlocks the cuffs. “What would be the fun in that?” He asks, shooting Marcus a grin and stepping back. “Might want to wipe the lipstick off your neck, Pike.”

You giggle, licking your thumb to wipe the lipstick away from his skin, and you gasp when he smacks your ass as you get out of the van. His arm wraps around your waist as you walk into the building and you know you are safe with him. "So dinner later?" You ask and he nods, "anything you prefer?" You hum and look at him, "I want to do take out back to yours so you can do whatever you want to me."

Marcus groans, his spent cock twitching in interest. “Then you better plan on spending the night.” He tells you, knowing he won’t want to let you go home after. “You can see the place I bought.” He frowns slightly, remembering that you are technically still assigned to the Texas office. “You should transfer to D.C.” He murmurs. “You can’t work for me, but I could ask about getting you on a team?”

You nod without hesitation knowing you want to be with Marcus and you can't ask him to come back to Texas when this promotion was a huge deal. "Absolutely. I'm all in." You promise, squeezing his hand. You've known Marcus for years, been his partner for most of the time you've known him, and you know you are completely in love with him.

“We’ll work everything out, sweetheart.” Marcus promises, smiling over at you. He might have been shocked to learn that you were undercover, but he’s happy that he’s managed to find his way back to happiness with you. “Let’s go get this done so we can start.”

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