#i love clean shaven marcus

[creedslove]

I think it's been a while since the last time i reminded you all that marcus pike is the best boyfriend and soon to be husband in the world and that teresa lisbon is worse than devil

[agentmarcuspike]

“t h e l o n g e s t n i g h t”

– a secret santa holiday fic for erin @perotovar ✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And you shocked me!” you accuse.

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

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

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

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

“Parched.”

“Drink?”

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

He turns towards you, looking down at your shoes.

“I mean, even with the platforms…”

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

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

“No, wait–” you begin.

“Wow!”

“I didn’t– That wasn’t what I–”

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s gonna be a long night if you keep this up,” you murmur, shaking your head playfully as you smile into the glass.

“I’ll drink to that,” Marcus grins back, finishing his drink in one go.

He looks at you expectantly, and with a grimace you down your own, before you let him grab you by the hand and pull you back towards the dance floor.

Marcus’ hands softly grip your waist as you move to the music. He gracefully guards you, quickly and easily twirling you out of the way whenever someone grinds too close. Your own hands rest on his broad shoulders, one of them moving slowly to the back of his neck, your thumb drawing small circles over the soft skin behind his ear.

He closes his eyes, leaning to rest his forehead against yours, and you swear you can feel the vibrations of him purring through his chest.

You’re no longer following the music, your bodies swaying to the steady pulse of your own hearts, which are beating in unison, a tango for just the two of you.

Marcus’ dark eyes flutter open, so close you can barely focus. His nose brushes yours as he leans in all the way, connecting his lips with yours. Soft at first, mouths closed, firmly pressed against each other. With your hands on his neck, you pull him down towards you, closer, closer, closer, and his hands on your waist grip you tighter.

He breaks away, nuzzling his nose against your cheek as he moves to your neck, where he presses open mouthed kisses to the sensitive skin, sucking lightly. A shiver runs through you, leaving goosebumps from your tailbone to the very top of your head. You turn towards him, seeking his mouth with your own.

This time you part your lips to invite him in, poking your tongue out ever so slightly. He accepts your invitation, feeding you his tongue back, the residue of whiskey coating it burning deliciously. It’s soft, your mouths working together instead of fighting for dominance, but it quickly grows more needy, two sets of hands grabbing and pulling, searching for something to hold onto.

Your hands settle on his lower back, finding the waistband of his pants, hooking your fingers in his belt hoops. With a quick tug, you pull his hips flush with yours, and he gasps into your mouth. He pulls away, just far enough to look into your eyes properly. A question between you, pulled tight like a rubberband. Requesting permission to move further. You nod at him once, giving him the green light, and the rubberband snaps as his lips once again connect with yours.

And he indulges. His hands travel to rest at your lower back, before sliding down to cup your ass, squeezing once. You catch yourself wishing, for the first time in your life, that you’d worn a skirt, so you could have felt his big hands against your skin. The cramped mass of people dancing around you are oblivious to your endeavor, only bumping into you every now and then, but Marcus doesn’t let you budge an inch, holding you tight, a hand on your ass and one arm sneaking around your back, holding onto your waist.

Your thumbs find the sliver of skin between his waistband and his shirt. With slow movements, in contrast to the quick blinking of lights seeping through your eyelids, you draw tiny circles on the soft skin of his narrow waist. One of his hands moves back to your face, thumb resting against your lower lip as he delicately pulls on it with his teeth, soothing the sting with his tongue immediately. You wish he’d have bitten harder, drawn blood. That he’d taste you, mix the fluid from your veins with the ones of his mouth. Swallow you.

He thrusts against you once, seeking friction, hard and impatient underneath his clothes. Had he shoved his hands down yours, he would have found you dripping as well; so slick and ready to take him. But all you can do with the crowd of people moving around you is hold on tight, and hope for an opening, however small, between atoms, letting your bodies move inside each other, the way his tongue does in your mouth, and your hand, secretly between your bodies, gently covering his protruding bulge.

You squeeze him gently, and you can feel his lashes flutter against your nose as he rests his forehead against yours, his mouth open in a silent moan.

The dance floor doesn’t exist anymore. It’s just the two of you now. Two hungry bodies, two lonely souls. You hear no more music, ears filled only with the sound of rushing blood. All you can taste is whiskey, and all you can see is him. You catch yourself wishing that this night, the longest one of the year, would last just a little while longer.

— happy holidays !!! x

[morallyinept]

A full character analysis on MARCUS PIKE from the TV show THE MENTALIST.

I've created this as a point of reference when writing for Pedro's characters, and I hope you find it useful. Even if you just want to learn more about the character. 🖤

FULL MASTERLIST OF PEDRO'S CHARACTERS ANALYSED

FULL CHARACTER STUDY:

Basic Details:

Full Name: Marcus Pike

Nickname(s): None mentioned

Appears in: The Mentalist, 2014 (first appearance on screen in episode 16, season 6, seen at approx. 01:55)

Age (if known): Unconfirmed, suspected mid-to-late thirties based on physical appearance

Sexuality: Straight - Marcus dates a female colleague, Teresa Lisbon. He mentions he was previously married and divorced, however the sex of his previous partner is not confirmed, but is widely presumed female

Nationality: American. Not confirmed which state. Currently works in Austin, Texas in the FBI headquarters building, and is later transferred to Washington DC for a promotion within the Art Crimes Squad

Family: None mentioned

Spouse/Partner: Dates colleague Teresa Lisbon

Relationship Status: Divorced from a previous marriage and single before dating Teresa Lisbon

Current Living Status: Alive

Languages Spoken: English

Education: Unknown/not confirmed, although it would be prudent to assume that as Marcus is a Special Agent in the FBI, he would have needed to have at least completed high school education and possibly college level education as a minimum

Occupation:

Job Role/Title: Special Agent in the FBI Art Crimes Unit

Special Skill(s): Investigative work, extensive knowledge of art, field work, intelligence and combat/firearms - standard policing training

Notable Colleague(s): Teresa Lisbon, Patrick Jane

Distinguishing Features:

Tattoo(s): None

Piercings: None

Scar(s): None notable

Other Markings: None notable

Prominent Feature(s): Clean shaven face, grows facial hair in his last episode which he claims was for undercover work

Injuries: None noted

Eye Colour: Brown

Hair Colour: Brown

Personality:

Traits: Smart, caring, romantic

Marcus has a soft spoken cadence to his voice, although his accent is does not confirm where exactly he originates from, he is American. He currently works in Austin, Texas, however it's not confirmed if he is native to Texas.

Marcus used to be in a band playing bass guitar and singing vocals. He confirms this on a date with Teresa Lisbon.

Marcus appears to have an interest in classic films, even quoting a line from Casablanca to Lisbon as they watch, and regaling her with a fact about the film. "Oh look, Casablanca’s on. “Here’s looking at you, kid.” You know Bogart made that line up? It wasn’t in the script." 

Despite the short amount of time he and Lisbon have been dating, he asks her to move to Washington DC with him, and later asks her to marry him, stating that "I’m not a kid. I’ve been married and divorced. I know when something’s real. And when it could get serious. I feel that way about us. Do you… feel that way?" Over dinner when he first reveals how he feels about her. Some fans argue that Marcus falls in love easily and this would be prudent to assume based on the short length of time he spends with Lisbon before he pops the question. However, the series spans an indeterminable amount of time, so there is case to argue that perhaps although it seems quick, in reality it probably wasn't. It's left open to individual interpretation.

Marcus appears to be a keen foodie; he is seen eating and mentioning food regularly throughout the episodes he is in. For example, eating take-out (vindaloo and rice) as he watches the operation unfold on the screen in the office, taking Lisbon for pancakes, taking her for dinner, mentioning restaurants she would like in DC on the phone etc...

Marcus grows facial hair in the last appearance we see him in, in episode 1 in season 7. He claims it's for an undercover operation when questioned about it by Jane, however some speculate it was probably also his way of dealing with the break-up. Despite the break-up, he still makes the effort to go and see Teresa when he is in the Austin FBI building giving a deposition after moving to DC, even though she is now with Jane. He confirms it was probably a stupid idea, indicating he might not be fully over her just yet.

Fashion/Outfits:

Outfit 1 - (Opening scene) Dark slate suit, light taupe shirt and striped/check grey tie, black belt, black shoes

Outfit 2 - (Following few scenes) Dark slate suit, light taupe shirt and blue and black striped tie, black belt, black shoes

Outfit 3 - (Undercover sting scene) Black leather jacket, grey round neck t-shirt, blue jeans, back boots

Outfit 4 - (Morning after scene) Light white/grey shirt, dark pants

Outfit 5 - Dark slate suit, light taupe shirt, brown/burgundy dotted tie

Outfit 6 - (Date night scene) Dark slate suit, light taupe shit, plaid check tie, black shoes.

Outfit 7 - (Cinema date scene) Mid-length dark blazer jacket, black shirt, dark pants, black shoes

Outfit 8 - (Thai food scene) Black suit, white shirt, dark burgundy tie

Outfit 9 - (Jane's jury chat scene) Slate suit, light taupe shirt, grey striped tie

Outfit 10 - (Watching Casablanca scene) Grey round neck t-shirt, black jeans, dark socks dark grey/black

Outfit 11 - (Teresa's house scene) White V neck t-shirt, dark jeans

Outfit 12 - (Lisbon's job decision scene) Black suit, white shirt, dark duo-chrome tie

Outfit 13 - (Marriage proposal scene) Slate suit, light taupe shirt, red and white dotted tie

Outfit 14 - (In DC on the phone scene) Slate suit, light taupe shirt, red burgundy tie

Outfit 15 - (Saying goodbye scene) Black suit, white pinstriped shirt, red and white dotted tie, black belt, black shoes

Accessories: FBI ID Badge clipped onto suit jacket worn on left side attached to breast pocket, and when he wears his badge on his jeans, it's also clipped on the left side.

Weapons Used:

Weapon(s): (Exact weapons pictured below)

Marcus is only seen drawing a gun once in the show, and it appears to be a standard issue Glock for FBI agents, possibly a Glock 19 specifically based on the shape and size. However it's not fully confirmed the exact model he uses.

Modes of Transport:

Vehicle(s):

Marcus is not seen operating any vehicles during his scenes on the show.

Dialogue:

🗨 See Marcus's full dialogue from the show, including deleted scenes.

Further Character Links (if any):

Marcus Pike Wiki Page

FULL MASTERLIST OF PEDRO'S CHARACTERS ANALYSED

[iamasaddie]

to hold you tonight

paring: Marcus Pike x f!afab!Reader

rating: explicit (18+ minors DNI)

word count: 1,9k~

summary: Marcus truly was your biggest fan. And now he wanted to become your only fan.

a/n: dead dove do not eat; i don't know what it is and why it is here. i'm drunk. this is unbetaed and unedited. do with it whatever. i will reread tomorrow and see if i like it at all lol.

warnings: NONCON turned something else; explicit sexual content, praise, obsessive behaviour, drugging, oral [f receiving], unsafe PinV, NO USE OF Y/N

MY MASTERLIST

ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴀ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴏꜰ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ. ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴅᴏɴᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱɪᴛᴜᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴅᴇꜱᴄʀɪʙᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ɪʀʟ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ, ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ꜰᴏʀɢᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ɪꜱ ᴀ ᴡᴀʏ ᴏꜰ ʜᴇᴀʟɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʀᴏᴄᴇꜱꜱɪɴɢ ᴛʀᴀᴜᴍᴀ ꜰᴏʀ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴɴᴏᴛ ᴅɪᴄᴛᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴘᴏʟɪᴄᴇ ʜᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴅᴏ ɪᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴛʏᴘᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴄʜᴏᴏꜱᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏɴꜱᴜᴍᴇ. ꜱᴛᴀʏ ꜱᴀꜰᴇ, ᴘʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴄᴇ ᴄᴏɴꜱᴇɴꜱᴜᴀʟ ꜱᴇx ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴘʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴏᴠᴇ.

"Oh, baby, look at this wet spot. Your panties are soaked already, and you’ve been awake for less than five minutes."

The man’s voice was calm and quiet, and strong. You couldn’t move your hands or legs, when you tried to at least move your he’d you realized that your eyes were the only thing that moved. You could feel every touch, could feel the warm air from his mouth and nostrils tickling the peach fuzz of your hair. But you couldn’t move. Not a single muscle listened to you. Your brain immediately succumbed to panic, but your heart rate refused to fasten, so the only thing that gave away your hysteria were your eyes.

The man above you finally stopped examining your  almost fully naked body, his hands were laying on top of your soft breasts as his face hovered above yours and he looked deep into your eyes. "Is it just for me?" One of his large palms let go of your breast and cupped your cunt. 

Is it just for me?

Is it just for me? 

Is it just for me?

You knew that man. You’ve already heard that voice, more than once. When the pizza place where you worked as a delivery girl fired you, you picked up the first job you could find. New York was never forgiving to poor people, but it was quite generous in terms of vacancies for all kinds of jobs. You stuck with being a live statue, something that worked well with your school schedule and wasn’t as emotionally exhausting. You loved watching the city, getting laughs and screams from unassuming tourists, plus the tips were always good. 

There were hundreds of people walking past you every single day, some faces would stick with you until the end of your shift, some you’d forget even before they passed you by. But him.You remembered that face so clearly sometimes you thought you could see it in the reflection of your mirror. Tall, handsome, clean-shaven, he was a picture perfect of a dream man. Everything about him was alluring, from the way his mouth curved as he gave you the compliments on your performance, staying after the crowds were already gone; to the way he smelled when he got closer to you one day - ripe cherry and bourbon.

You were flattered at first, you had a fan, but sometimes his eyes were too intense and would make you uneasy. When you stood still for an extra couple of minutes with him as the only witness, he’d laugh, the sound colder than the autumn wind ripping through your makeup, ‘is it just for me?’ he’d ask, and you’d feel the heat threatening to melt the silver paint on your cheeks. ‘Well, you seem to be my biggest fan.’

Now, laying in front of him, your body free of makeup and clothes, you knew your instincts didn’t lie. You should’ve changed the job. Should’ve found another pizza place. Too bad it was too late now. You could only remember him coming up really close, telling him he had something for you, and then an acidic smell followed by the darkness.

He was a psychopath, that was clear. 

When he looked into your eyes, his browns were gentle, but glazed with something. Was he high? You wanted to ask, to beg, but your mouth didn’t move, only your lower lip twitched a little.

"I am sorry, sweetheart, statues don’t talk. That’s the beauty of them. That’s the beauty of you."

He pressed his plush lips to your unmoving ones, his hot wet tongue licking a stripe inside.

"They don’t deserve you," he whispered into your mouth, "they’re so fucking dumb, they don’t understand art. And you… You’re art. I’m the only one who could see your true value. My Aphrodite, you finally came to me. I was afraid I would die alone, but not anymore, not with you by my side."

Did he… Did he actually think you were a statue that came alive? You weren’t even dressed like Aphrodite, just a fucking statue. He was insane, and you were fucked. 

You felt your heart start trembling, beating faster in the cold cage of your ribs. He heard what you felt. His lips pursed, "none of that, my goddess. Statues are calm, marble is quiet."

He put his hand on your chest, right between your breasts, and pressed. Somehow your heart listened to you, ignoring the fear-induced adrenaline coursing through your body. You were cold, and the room was dark. The table - judging by how hard it was beneath your spine and how high it was for the floor you guessed it was a table - was sticking to the parts of your skin pressed into it.

"Marcus and Aphrodite," he laughed quietly, "sounds funny, but we’ll make it work. When I make you mine, when every bit of your stone cold body belongs to me, it’ll work."

He lowered his head and started pressing soft kisses from the crook of your neck down. It was undoubtedly an uncomfortable position for him, having to crouch above you, but he didn’t seem jaded by it at all. His lips were warm against your skin, and you wondered how it was possible to feel both numb and on the verge of sensory explosion. You let yourself feel, just feel accepting whatever was going to happen to you. Your mind was as still as your body when he trailed his kisses down, unknowing that he was burning your skin through.

"So beautiful," his whisper sounded like prayer as he slowly tugged your panties off. "Every bit of you was created by a true master, even your cunt. So silky," he traced a finger through your weeping slit covering his index finger in your juices. "Blessing me with your grace."

His voice changed, becoming less gentle and more hungry, hands that were gentle mere moments ago were yanking your thighs apart and you felt more exposed than you ever were. Unable to move, to speak, just a conscious body for him to bless or to break.

You cried inside when he latched his lips on your clit without mistakes, two of his fingers finding home in your slick entrance as they pushed inside. You were lava around him, your marble exterior contrasting with the softness of your insides as he parted them and moaned. "Fuck, taste so good, so… divine." His tongue played with your clit, circling around it in precise movements as his thick fingers pushed in and out of you, spreading you further. If there were any thoughts in your head before it, now everything was completely gone. Every atom of your being surrendering to pleasure, to desperate want.

Your skin was tight, both with dried up paint and the upcoming orgasm, you needed to move, needed to slide your hands into the sickness of his hair and tug him closer into you. Marcus was ravenous, growls and slurping sounds echoing in the darkness of the room. He curled his fingers upwards, sliding the tips of them against the spongy part inside of you, sending you to the gods themselves as you felt your body internally ripping to shreds, goosebumps rippling under your skin.

"Good girl," he moaned into your cunt, immediately attaching his mouth to your pulsing and leaking entrance, shoving his tongue inside. When he drank enough of you, he reappeared in front of you, his face red, lower half of it glistening.  Marcus didn’t bother wiping himself, just grabbed your face in his hands and pressed a sloppy kiss onto your lips staining them with your wetness.

His hands flew to the zipper of his slacks, and he started quietly talking, you grasped every word through the blood pumping in your ears.

"I’m going to fuck you now, my goddess, I’m going to keep you full of my cum for hours, only this way we can be together. A part of me will sustain the life in you, and you will always belong to me. Always be grateful to me."

You heard his belt buckle clinking as he pushed his pants down. Part of you wished you could see his cock, but another part thought it’d only scare you and you didn’t want that. Not anymore. Not now.

"When you finally understand that it’ll be easier. For both of us." Marcus walked around, standing at the end of the table between your legs that were bent in the knees, and you thought you could almost feel the ground with your toes. His fingers spread your shining wet lips as the head of his thick cock notched on your entrance. "I want to hear you beg for me, like I begged for you night after night," he pushed inside in one easy stroke, your arousal mixed with his making his slide intense but painless. "Wanna feel you squirm and whimper," his cock parted you, and for a short moment you did feel like you were a statue and he was reconstructing you. Hammering your granite to create a new space. Something just for him. 

"I want to kiss the tears I spilled from your eyes," his movements were slow, but forceful, every time he pushed inside a rugged breath ripped out of you. Marcus pressed his lips to your neck, where the blood was pumping violently in your carotid artery.

"I want to break your stone and mark your marble." He hissed, and you felt his teeth closing around the soft flesh of your neck as he bit and sucked on it, making his wish come true.

He placed his arms around you, bracketing your body as his thrusts became more rapid. You didn’t blink, inhaling the intoxicating smell of his sweat and insanity. You felt the swell of his tummy sliding against your skin, you desperately wanted to wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him closer, deeper inside you.

His cock was painfully girth, every vein and ridge touching more of your nerve endings than you knew existed. Marcus breathed harder, he pressed his forehead against yours and as he licked his lips the wetness of his tongue touched your lips as well. "You’re so good. I’m going to fill you - oh, fuck, - fill you with life. You will not be a statue, you’ll be alive. Alive and always - fuck - always filled with my cock, my tongue, my fingers."

Marcus punched his cock into your cervix, a droplet of sweat collecting on the tip of his hooked nose as you felt his hips shudder, hot, thick cum spilling inside you and he could barely hold himself to not fall on top of you, his cock kept pushing in and out of you by inertia.

Heat rose from the inside of your body, you felt every muscle burning, the tips of your toes and fingers twitching. Marcus pulled out of you gently, placing one hand on your pulling entrance that was now spilling his cum, and gliding another one up and down your stomach and tits. You could finally move your head a little to see him spreading a sheen of sweat on your slick body, watching the leftover paint create intricate patterns on your skin. He didn’t look troubled, his smile was pure and genuine when he looked at you once again.

"I told you we’d make it work, my Aphrodite. Now you’re free. Free to be only mine."

—————

consider leaving a comment if you liked what you read 💙

[prolix-yuy]

I have never, ever asked anyone for an ask before so I don't know any of the rules for these things. For the pairing, can we ask for a pairing like Marcus Pike x Jack Daniels x Reader (cause Double Agents is a Mood™️ and a Vibe™️) or like either of those Singular x Reader.

And it's ME, so obviously I have to choose "CHAOS and order" as the topic. Chaos is my middle name after all.

Also please feel free to make this as explicit as possible. I mean, as you'd like.

If I did this wrong and I should change something let me know because like I said I've never done this before, so it is to YOU - Tumblr Crush Bestie - that I am losing my ask virginity. Seems fitting! 😉

Aynsley. Oh Aynsley. You come into my house and ask for filth? For chaos? To be as EXPLICIT AS POSSIBLE?

I am happy to provide, my dear Tumblr Crush Bestie!

Sorry it's taken so gosh-darn long, these three were taking their sweet time figuring out the threesome twister game. I hope you enjoy!

Two Truths and a Lie

Pairing: Jack "Whiskey" Daniels x F!Reader x Marcus Pike

Summary: If you said you didn't want what these two men have in store, you'd be a liar.

Word Count: 6.3k (YOU'RE WELCOME)

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, descriptions of male and female bodies, m/m dynamics, mmf dynamics, breast play, biting, oral sex (m and f receiving), handjobs, brief rimming, use of anal plug, anal sex (m receiving), face sitting, PiV sex, everyone's bisexual, aftercare, dirty talking because I'm a slut for it.

Notes: I've been teasing this for so long and it's finally arrived! And I'm embodying the 'chaos' in the request by barely editing this. Should I have? Maybe. Will I deny us any of the filth these three get into? Absolutely not. Enjoy my lovelies!

The first time you lied you didn’t even know what you were doing. Barely speaking full sentences and you pushed a boy over in the playground. He was loud, mean, and you were so full of emotions your little body had to retaliate. But when the teacher came over and asked what happened, you lied.

“He fell.”

The boy was too embarrassed to admit it was you, ushered away by the teacher. And you basked in a new feeling that would grow to be your constant companion: the elation of getting away with it.

Now, much later in life, you’d perfected lying. You lied like you breathed. Tells well hidden, truths spread like jam on burnt bread, just enough to hide the taste. You didn’t want to be punished, or caught. It wasn’t about waiting for someone to call you out. Lying was a language you spoke fluently and without equal, and was a competition with only yourself as audience.

Take tonight, for example. You’d lied to your friends that you didn’t feel well enough to go out. You’d lied to the bartender about why you were here. You’d even lied to the Uber driver, who could care less why you were coming to a swank hotel bar this late at night. But that’s three unsuspecting participants and three more tallies on the invisible scoreboard. 

The truth, not that you’d ever say it, was that you were bored. Endlessly, achingly bored. If you had to listen to one more pregnancy story, or upcoming wedding plans, or theorize on whatever show everyone was watching this time, you might actually scream. So tonight you forewent the Mexican restaurant your friends love and came here.

The bar is lush in a way that makes you salivate. Burgundy velvet chairs flank dark leather Chesterfield couches, artfully arranged to create the illusion of privacy underneath the cathedral ceilings. Royal blue and black brocade wallpaper flanks you as you approach the bar, black walnut wrapped around a towering wall of liquor. The stools glint gold as you slide onto one, balancing delicately. It’s not until you put in your drink order and settle back that you see them.

Once you do, you’re not sure how they escaped your observation. Two men seated at a high top overlooking city lights, casually sipping from rocks glasses. One is clean shaven, short haired and neatly dressed. Corporate attire - a tidy suit, tie, crisp white shirt. His face is soft in the table’s candlelight, eyes crinkled in the corners enough to know he enjoys himself without reservation. 

The other man holds some of the same features - large hands swirling alcohol in his tumbler, dark hair and eyes, a broad build - but the similarities end with the confidence he’s exuding. His outfit is more cowboy chic, dark jeans and a gray suit jacket over a light pink shirt with a peek of suspenders under the lapel. His boots hook over a stool rung, tilted back as his companion leans forward. The smirk painting his face paired with his teasing eyes quirks a smile of your own. Definitely cocksure, and possibly for good reason if those tight jeans were anything to go by.

Then the cowboy reaches across the table and pinches the other man’s chin between his thick fingers, a softer look gracing his face. The other man flushes a light pink, eyes casting down as his smile turns bashful.

Suddenly you’re too hot, snapping your gaze back to your drink.

Not for you.

Not that you’d assumed either of them would turn their attention your way. They were both your type in a room with surprisingly few options, but the night is young, and your drink has barely been touched. You lift it to your lips for a small sip, letting the liquor burn in the way good sex can light you aflame (an experience you’d been low on lately) when a voice murmurs at your shoulder.

“Drinking alone?” 

The blushing companion is now at your elbow, respectful but close enough that it makes your skin tingle. He leans on the bar, nodding once to the bartender with a smile before redirecting his attention back to your purposefully neutral expression.

“For now,” you reply cryptically, taking a sip of your drink as you peek at him over the rim. His smile widens, a glint of teeth between soft, kissable lips. Shouldn’t have been fantasizing about a conquest tonight, now you’re too keyed in to a man who’s out of your league in several ways. 

“Would you like some company while you wait? My partner and I have a table,” he says as two glasses slide into his grasp. You shrug.

“My friends will be here soon.”

Liar.

“Of course. One drink.”

“Only one.”

Liar.

“As the lady wishes.”

One drink turns into two, your wits still about you but your attention pleasingly bewitched by the couple. Marcus, the one who approached, is an FBI agent specializing in art crimes, which you unabashedly question him about while the cowboy smirks in your periphery. 

“You can tell the difference between a fake and an original on sight?” 

Marcus chuckles into the rim of his glass, tongue peeking out to stop an errant drop. 

“Only the very bad ones. The good ones need analysis, imaging, carbon dating. But it’s amazing to see how far someone will go.”

His knee knocks into yours and remains there.

The cowboy’s name is Jack Daniels, which makes you scoff until he raises an eyebrow at you. He even works at a distillery, though he was a field agent in a past life. That’s how he and Marcus met, the mention exchanging fondness that makes you gaze into your own drink for distraction. He orders a round of Statesman as proof of his fine taste, and you have to agree it’s much better than the whiskey most men offer you as though you know nothing of liquor. 

He lifts his boot to catch on the low rung of your stool, opening the span of his thighs to you. If you didn’t know better you would think these two were…

“We have a question for you, darlin,” Jack says when the drinks run dry, pinning you with a smirk. You straighten your spine, chin lifted to pre-empt your refusal.

You didn’t want to see what these men might offer.

Liar.

“Marcus saw you come in and thought you were about the prettiest thing he’d laid eyes on. But I’m a little more discerning. I like women to be smarter than me.” You roll your eyes but he keeps on running that smooth Southern drawl. “Which you are. Clearly. So I’m gonna ask you this for the both of us, and it only goes for the both of us. Package deal.”

Your eyes dart between Jack and Marcus, observing their drastically different postures. Marcus is nervous, hands folded tightly in front of him, eyes locked on them as he worries at his lower lip. Jack, on the other hand, is a man negotiating a deal and has all the confidence in the world, though he’s tuned in to Marcus’ discomfort. You wonder briefly if this is how they work best, Jack taking the lead. The thought blares heat across your chest.

“What would you like to ask?” you reply cooly, even though your heart hammers so loud you’re sure they can hear it. It’s under control until Jack’s eyes flick down to your hand worrying at your glass. His gaze flits up - caught.

“We’d like to invite you up to our room,” Jack says simply, leaning back in his seat. Marcus finally tears his eyes from his hands and watches for your reaction. You smirk at them both.

“For a nightcap?” you ask innocently, but the dark humor that spreads over Jack’s face shakes your resolve.

“No, darlin, we’d like to invite you into our bed. If that’s favorable to you, of course,” Jack says, the game ping-ponging between you as Marcus watches. 

“I assumed I wasn’t your type,” you stall, interrogating yourself about the offer. Did you want to let them lead you away from here? 

You’re definitely not bored anymore. If anything you’re aching at the thought.

“You are,” Marcus interjects, pulling your attention from Jack’s intense stare. His face is open, eager, kind. He seems like the kind of man who wears soft sweaters and asks you how your day was and actually listens. What a pair they make. 

“I’d like to have an idea of what I’m getting myself into before agreeing to anything,” you say, but your voice is getting shakier by the minute. Marcus slides his hand across the table, fingertips lightly grazing the back of your hand. It’s grounding, comforting.

Electric.

“Safety for everyone, of course. Protection all around,” Jack says, speaking in a low voice that urges you to lean forward. It gives him the opportunity to graze his fingers along your thigh in a featherlight touch that burns you with arousal. “Marcus likes it when I take charge, but you’re our guest so whatever your comfort level is, we’ll respect. If you’d like to take a break or end it at any time, we stop.”

Then Jack leans in and destroys the final barriers between you and your decision.

“We both like to eat pussy, and will make you cum several times before fucking you. Marcus likes to be inside while I fuck him, but I’d like to feel you squeeze around me too. I won’t leave marks if you ask, but I like to use my mouth, and my teeth. Marcus wants to kiss you, often, and very thoroughly. He might be quiet now, but he’s vocal as hell when you get him riled up. I’m likely to never shut up unless my mouth’s busy.” 

Your breath is coming in quick pants now, Marcus’ fingers sliding along the back of your hand to open your fist and slip inside. Jack’s heavy hand on your thigh feels like all that’s keeping you held to the earth. Sensing your hesitation, Marcus leans in and breathes into your ear.

“Would you like that, sweetheart?”

You don’t hear your agreement over the rushing in your ears, but their twin smiles of satisfaction confirm it.

Staring into the mirror and psyching yourself up to leave the bathroom, you adjust your lingerie for the eighth time. Mauve lace clings to your breasts, your hips, just opaque enough to be pretty instead of lewd. In this moment you wish it was more exciting, more daring for these men who offered you a spot in their bed. How tame you must seem after all the bravado you showed in the bar.

You’re not ready for this.

Liar.

Gathering up your last bit of courage, you saunter into the hotel bedroom. You’d left Jack and Marcus there fully clothed, knowing smiles and the beginnings of flirty touches the last thing you’d seen. Now, you’re treated to a much more mouthwatering sight.

Jack is seated on the edge of the bed, jacket discarded and suspenders loose by his thighs. His shirt is messy and untucked, one final button around his stomach holding on for dear life after all the others abandoned their posts. His pants are open, and as you come to a stop you’re treated to Marcus’ deep groan as he swallows Jack’s cock to the base. His throat works as Jack tips his head back and sighs, hips gyrating a fraction against Marcus’ eager mouth. 

Fuck, it’s hot and drives a spike of arousal straight to your cunt. Marcus’ strong back, bare and rippling across Jack’s lap, begs for your fingers to dig into his meaty shoulders. You catch him palming at his crotch, big brown eyes opening to look up at Jack. He’s rewarded with thick fingers carding through his short brown hair, pulling back to breathe heavily on the tip of Jack’s cock before descending again.

“Gorgeous, isn’t he?” Jack rasps when you realize you’ve been staring too long. His hand extends to you, and for a moment you think it’s better to leave them to it. They clearly have history, and chemistry. You don’t belong here.

Liar.

You slide your hand into Jack’s, letting him lead you to sit beside him. Sinking into his side, he gives you the perfect view to look down at Marcus’ thorough deep-throating. His eyes drag up, and the hand gripping Jack’s thigh now comes to rest on yours. He’s firm but gentle, kneading the flesh there.

“I’d like to kiss you, sweetheart,” Jack whispers into the shell of your ear, dragging his lips just to your neck to press a featherlight kiss. You’re hesitant, but he lets you breathe against his mouth before leaning forward just enough to press your lips together. The wet mouth noises Marcus is choking out below you are a strange soundtrack to the sweetness of Jack’s kiss. He plies you with a few more, fuller, more forceful, before dragging his tongue over the seam of your lips. You part eagerly for him, meeting his full stroke with your quicker tongue. Jack groans into your mouth, the beginning of a smile curling against the corner of your lips. 

“Now him,” he says, leaning back and guiding your head down to Marcus. He slips off Jack’s wet cock, jutting thick and proud, and rises on his knees to take your head in his hands. There’s less hesitation here; you melt fully into Marcus’ kiss. Jack was right, Marcus kisses thoroughly, patiently, diving deep before pulling back to let you breathe. It builds a fire under your skin, your nails digging into his shoulders. 

Distantly you feel Jack’s thick fingers unclasp your bra, then his hands - callused in places that made you wonder if he was a real cowboy once - guide you to lay back on the bed. You part from Marcus with a small sigh, but Jack follows you down, the scrape of his mustache on your throat as he slips his thumb over your kiss-swollen lips. Settling on your back, Marcus’ hands slide under your knees and soon the smooth expanse of his back surges under your calves. 

“Look at this,” Marcus hums, stroking down your thighs. Jack hums in agreement as he slips your bra off, the cool air tightening your nipples. “Anything you don’t like, sweetheart?” Jack’s mouth distracts you as he blows across the swell of your breast, making your back arch at the sensation.

“No teeth,” you say, finally hazarding a look down your body at the men driving you to madness. Jack looks visibly disappointed, which makes you tug at his well-coiffed locks. “For him, not you.” Marcus breaks into a smile and honest-to-goodness chuckles between your legs, and Jack winks up at you before a slip of pink tongue wraps around your nipple. Any further instruction is wiped from your mind as you arch into the clever heat of his mouth, paired with the squeeze of his other hand around your neglected breast. His teeth graze your nipple, hips rolling involuntarily before getting pressed firmly into the bed.

“Can’t wait to taste this,” Marcus murmurs, and two fingers slide underneath the gusset of your panties, knuckles dragging through your folds. He leaves open-mouthed kisses below your bellybutton, dragging his nose down to smell you through the thin lace. You want so desperately to focus but so many hands pulling you apart so effortlessly has your eyes rolling up into your head and your body writhing. 

Finally, Marcus licks a wide path along your lacy slit as Jack rolls your nipple between his fingers and you keen out a desperate moan.

“Oh, baby, sounds like someone needs you to make her cum,” Jack teases into your neck, sliding his hand down and into your panties to tease your aching clit. Marcus is still licking along the lace, pressing his tongue at your entrance just enough that their touches light up every nerve carrying pleasure to your lust-soaked brain.

“Let me take these off you and get you all over my face,” Marcus purrs, lifting your hips to drag the last scrap of clothing off your body. They’re both still half-clothed and looking at you like a goddess draped across the bed, and it almost makes you balk.

Liar. It makes you even more excited.

Jack removes his fingers, sucking them into his mouth with a low hum while Marcus noses your inner thigh. You can’t stop your legs from trembling, but Marcus’ firm grip steadies you as he finally licks a slow path through your folds.

“Oh fuck,” you gasp, arching into the pillows as Jack presses your hips back on the bed. 

“He’s good, ain’t he? Wicked tongue on him, and I swear he’s half fish, never needs to come up for air,” Jack teases, pressing his body against your side and stroking through Marcus’ short hair. He nips at your earlobe as Marcus begins lapping rhythmically at your entrance, his nose firm on your clit and his jaw bobbing against you. The waves of his tongue, the jolt of that hawkish nose, the dark pride simmering in his eyes as he watches you, all burn under your skin. Your orgasm is fast approaching, nipples tight and aching. Sliding your thumb over one, you coax the honey-sweet ache of arousal out against Marcus’ tongue. Jack notices and joins you, stroking his rougher ones over the sensitive buds. His cock ruts lazily against your hip, and you slide your hand around him to pump him in time with your rolling hips.

“Oh, sweetheart, you’re so good,” he praises, sinking his teeth into the top of your breast just hard enough that prickles of pain pull you away from your heady arousal. It slams back into you the moment he releases the sensitive flesh, laving his tongue over the indents his teeth left behind.

“C’mon baby, that’s it, you’re so close,” Marcus encourages between your legs, lips barely leaving before doubling down. His whole head rocks against your cunt, long licks and drags of his lips and nose and chin through your messy sex. He must be coated in you, thick and tangy across his clean-shaven face. If Jack did the same, he’d carry you in that perfectly groomed mustache.

That image, Jack with his mustache dripping with your release, tightens your core as Marcus urges your hips to roll against him, chasing your orgasm frantically as he growls into your cunt. 

“Give it to me, baby, cum on my face, I know you have it right there for me, fucking give it to me. Cum on me. Cum on me now,” he orders, and with Jack’s whispered “He’s been so good, cum for him sweetheart,” you’re tightening around Marcus’ head and shaking through a fucking full-body orgasm. Faintly you hear Marcus chanting, “Yes, yes, that’s it baby, that’s it,” and Jack purring a diatribe of, “Good girl, you’re cumming so good for us, look at that, fucking gorgeous.” The room fades around the edges, the boys all you can focus on. Marcus’ eyes are shining with triumph, wiping his face as he beams up between your legs. Jack hovers over you, pride and sinful promise in his smile.

“That was a very good one, Marcus. Gonna give me a run for my money,” he says, stroking your cheek as you try to come back to the real world from your sky-high journey. The comforting warmth at your side fades as Jack sits up on the bed, tugging Marcus by his hair. Blearily you watch them kiss, tongues peeking out from their pressed lips as Jack tastes you on Marcus. He reaches down and deftly unbuttons Marcus’ pants, shoving everything down to reveal his weeping cock. Jack’s palms it, nodding to Marcus who leans over just enough to spit on his own cock before Jack gives him a few slow, firm strokes. You can tell how much Marcus is affected, mouth dropping into an O as his eyes drifting shut. Jack indulges him a few passes more before pulling a condom out of his pocket.

“Fill her up, pretty boy, she’s been so patient.”

You prop yourself up on shaky elbows as Marcus rolls the condom on, hazy gaze kindling the remains of your orgasm into a new possibility. He slots his hips between your thighs, crawling up your body to kiss you with the remains of your taste on his tongue. Jack stole most of it, but you can still relish in your tang.

“I want to fuck you, baby, can I? I’ll stretch you out good first,” he asks against your lips, the head of his cock resting just on your mound. He fists it and draws circles on your clit with the tip, your spine pulling tight up under him.

“Yes, Marcus, want you inside me,” you gasp, but before he fits his perfect cock inside he pumps two gloriously thick fingers into your cunt, stroking at your velvet soaked walls before curling them wickedly.

“So tight. Fuck, Jack, you’re gonna love this,” Marcus husks, scissoring his fingers and swirling his thumb over your sensitive clit. 

“Want to show her what you’ve been hiding, handsome?” Jack asks innocently, but you see goosebumps raise along Marcus’ arms and shoulders when the cowboy nips at his ear, winking at you. “Reach back here, darlin’, and feel,” Jack instructs as you follow the path of his hand around Marcus’ hip. He guides you to the smooth base of the plug in Marcus’ ass, making him shudder when you press your fingers against it.

“He’s been waiting all night for this, would you let me fuck him while he fucks you?” Jack asks. You trace a finger around Marcus’ stretched hole and he drops his head to your shoulder with a choked groan.

“You want that, Marcus? Want to fill me while Jack fills you?” His stuttering breath warms your neck as he nods. Reaching back, you prop yourself up with a couple pillows so you can better watch, your hands cupping Marcus’ face as Jack slowly works the plug out of him. When his mouth drops open you stroke your thumb along his bottom lip, pulling his attention from any discomfort back to you. Marcus empties out a sigh when Jack pulls the sensible black plug from him and places it on the bedside table. He returns with a slim bottle of lube that he dribbles onto his fingers.

“Now Marcus, I want you to put the tip in her and get yourself good and hard while I slide into your pert little ass. Once I’m in and you’re settled I’ll set the pace. Don’t want you hurting yourself.” The gentle instruction warms your skin as Jack smooths his hands over Marcus’ back and sides. He nods and you stroke your fingers through his hair reassuringly.

“You’re gonna feel so good inside me,” you say, circling your hips against his cock as he fists himself again. 

“You’re beautiful,” Marcus whispers, and as he wedges just the tip of his thick cock inside you he presses open-mouthed kisses to your neck and shoulder. The shallow stretch makes your toes curl, one of Jack’s hands massaging your calf as his mouth smacks against Marcus’ spine.

“Ready?” he asks one last time.

“Yes, Jack, please…”

The litany of moans and gasps Marcus litters onto your skin lights your arousal further aflame as Jack curses and pushes in. You’re enraptured by the concentration on his face, the tick of his jaw and swipes of his tongue over his lower lip as he thrusts shallowly into Marcus’ tight channel. You can feel every jolt in your cunt when he presses Marcus just a little further forward, burying himself just a little deeper inside you. It’s slow as cold molasses and driving Marcus to bliss. When he begins backing up against Jack you stroke his back, and Jack’s larger hand covers yours.

“Fuck, feel so full,” Marcus manages to say, and Jack leans over to kiss along his shoulders. Your mouth is already at the juncture of his neck, and Jack meets your lips with his own. Marcus turns his head enough to kiss you behind your ear, and to catch the hinge of Jack’s sharp jaw with a scrape of teeth.

“Okay sweethearts, I’m gonna fuck you now. Slow to start. Get our rhythm.” Jack then pulls back and thrusts forward hard enough to bury the rest of Marcus’ length inside you.

“Oh fuck,” you gasp, Marcus already being guided back out before Jack fucks him back into you. “Oh holy shit, ohhhh fuck, yes, please, oh fuck it’s so good,” you moan brokenly, Marcus cupping your cheek and pressing his mouth to yours. You open for him, his tongue plunging into you as he pounds your cunt over and over again. The wet slaps are offset by the slick squelches of Jack’s cock fucking into Marcus, timing his thrusts just right to let you both feel every ridge and vein inside and around you. 

“Fuck, you both are so fucking hot,” Jack grits out, one hand gripping your hip, the other Marcus’, as he set a faster pace. Marcus drops to his elbows and rolls his hips harder, snapping into you and back onto Jack. The quiet moans he was hiding before erupt into full-throated shouts, which Jack muffles by shoving his fingers into Marcus’ mouth. He drools around them, and when his glazed eyes meet yours you lick the back of Jack’s knuckles and over Marcus’ lips.

“Filthy girl, knew you were,” Jack pants. “You close, handsome?” 

Marcus nods frantically, eyebrows pinching and fisting the sheets as he speeds up from Jack’s rhythm to chase his orgasm. Jack chuckles before folding over you both, crushing Marcus to your chest.

“I’ve got you, baby boy.” With that Jack pounds into you both, Marcus buried so deep you can feel Jack’s thrusts nudge him against your g-spot. You grip their hair, Jack’s eyes locking with yours as he growls through each thrust. 

“Call him a good boy, sweetheart.”

“Fuck, Marcus, you’re so good for me, feel so good inside. Cum for me like a good boy, Marcus.”

That’s all it takes, and Marcus is howling into your neck as Jack grinds deep. His cock pulses heavily inside you, the force of his orgasm shivering through his limbs as they lock and release. Finally he lets go, slumping his full weight onto your chest. Jack kisses the back of his neck, fingers stroking down his arms and soothing him through the aftershocks.

“You’ve got a way with him, darlin’, he rarely cums that hard,” Jack coos, sliding his arms around Marcus to guide him off. Rolling him to his back, Jack peppers Marcus’ face with soft kisses as he weakly throws an arm around Jack’s back. His other hand searches for yours, twining your fingers together as he blinks sleepily between you both.

“Shit, that was amazing,” he croaks, sending Jack to the bathroom for a glass of water and to dispose of the condoms. “C’mere, wanna hold you,” he adds, tugging you to curl up against his side. His hands roam your back, nose pressed against your forehead as his rapid heartbeat begins to slow. It’s oddly romantic, happy to give and receive this moment of comfort. But you’re sure it’s the end of the night, and you’ll be fine going back home soon.

Liar.

“Now darlin’, as good of a time as it looks like you were having, I don’t think you came,” Jack says once Marcus has had a good long drink and settled back into the pillows. 

“I had plenty of fun,” you say lazily, stroking Marcus’ chest as it rises and falls. Jack tuts and shakes his head, moving to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Told you I wanted to eat your pussy too. Come sit on my face and let me give you another. Then, if you’re not too tired out, I’ll have you sit on my cock too.” 

Heat races over your body, and Marcus unwinds you from his arms. 

“Go on, gorgeous, Jack’s tongue is a treat you should never turn down,” he teases. “I’ll be along as soon as I catch my breath.”

Sitting up, you scoot closer to Jack as a strange nervousness settles in. Marcus is so open and easy to read, while Jack’s expressions always seem veiled behind a layer of showmanship and bravado. You find yourself worrying that you won’t be enough for him, for what he wants.

“What’s going through that pretty head of yours?” Jack interrupts your racing thoughts as he strokes his palm up your thigh. You shake your head, forcing a smile on.

“Nothing,” you say, your voice catching in your throat. Jack chews on his lower lip for a moment, then wraps his arms around your waist and guides you onto his lap. Straddling him, you hover as he pets your hips, smooths your back, and noses your neck with a gentle kiss along your collarbone.

“If it’s nerves, honey, then know that I have been looking forward to tasting, and fucking you all night. I want your tits in my mouth, your pussy, your tongue. I want to devour you, you’re so delicious.” He guides your hips down to press against his cock, hard and hot as he slips the soft skin against your wet folds. “You cannot possibly disappoint me, I could cum from your voice alone.” 

“Jack…” you breathe, and he leans back, pulling you along with him. Once flat on his back he guides your nipple into his mouth, humming indulgently as he teases the bud with his fast tongue and harsh sucks. You arch into his mouth, the length of his cock grinding against your clit. Switching to the other one, he nips lightly and chuckles when you jolt against him. His large hands paw at your ass, spreading your cheeks and kneading at the supple flesh. He cracks his hand against one with a sharp slap, soothing it with a stroke after. You’re dripping on him now, grinding along his length.

“Perfect, sweetheart, now climb up and put that hot little pussy on my face,” he orders, and all self-consciousness drips away as you climb up his body. Before you settle around his shoulders he taps your hip and guides you to swing around so you’re facing his neglected cock, hovering over his greedy mouth.

“Want your hand around my cock while I eat you out,” he says before pulling you down on his face. 

No matter the thorough fucking you just endured, Jack’s thick tongue sends a shudder up your spine, needing to grab his wrists. He hums into your folds, faster flicks than Marcus against your clit.

“I’m gonna drink you down, darlin’,” he purrs into your cunt, canting your hips so he can better seal his pouty lips around your clit. Falling forward, you loosely stroke Jack’s aching cock, throbbing with need after being denied his orgasm. Letting a dribble of spit drip onto his length, you slick him up to take a tighter grip. When your fingers glance over the ridge of his head his stomach tightens, hips rocking up to meet your strokes. 

“Your cock is gorgeous, Jack,” you praise, leaning down to place a soft kiss on the tip. The groan he lets out vibrates against your sex, eliciting your own pleasured sigh as he slips his tongue inside you.

“He’s very good at using it,” Marcus says just next to your shoulder, sliding off the bed to kneel between Jack’s knees. He replaces your hand on Jack’s cock, urging you to sit back up on Jack’s face. He worships your breasts with soft sucks and nibbles, working you both up higher and higher. You can feel Jack’s movements getting sloppier, distracted gasps bursting between your legs when he takes a moment to bask in his own pleasure. You weave your hands into Marcus’ hair, scratching along his scalp as he kisses his way up your neck and back to your waiting mouth. 

“Mmm, sweetheart he’s not gonna last much longer, and I know he wants to cum in you too. Let me wrap him up and then you can fuck his cock.” Marcus takes a moment to tear open a condom as you shuffle down Jack’s body. His mouth leaves you with a parting lick to your back entrance, the ticklish sensation making you giggle and scratch your nails down his flexing stomach. When you’re hovering over his cock, Marcus’ hand on the base guiding Jack in, he sits up behind you. 

“Most beautiful thing I’ll ever get to experience,” Jack murmurs, plastering his chest to your back and wrapping his arms around you. He guides you down as Marcus steadies him in, filling you so differently but so completely. 

“Fuck, Jack, you feel amazing,” you croon, head thrown back against his shoulder. Marcus lifts up on his knees to kiss Jack, clever fingers petting at your clit as you lift up just enough to let Jack feel the drag of your tight cunt, then back down to his base to elicit a wanton groan.

“Darlin’, you feel like heaven. Don’t know how Marcus didn’t bust immediately.” Marcus nips his Adam’s apple and switches to mouthing at your throat, both of their lips dancing along the expanse of your sweat-slicked skin. Sandwiched between them, the slide of their bodies against yours is addictive, intoxicating, endless in the pleasure it brings. Your cunt clenches around Jack, and he chuckles darkly in your ear before snapping his hips up into you.

“There’s my good girl, so tight around me. I’m gonna fuck you as hard and long as I can, but fuck me if you don’t feel like the best thing I’ve ever put my cock in.” Jack grabs the back of Marcus’ head and pulls him back to meet eyes. “Lick her clit, pretty boy.”

You didn’t think your arousal could climb any higher, but looking down to see Jack’s length sliding in and out of you paired with Marcus sinking down to lick a stripe from the base of Jack’s cock to your clit almost kills you. Marcus’ boyish smile would be your gravestone if you didn’t remember to breathe.

“Holy fuck,” you choke out as he lays out his thick pink tongue to stroke over and over along your joined bodies.

“Damn right, you’re doing so good for us Marcus,” Jack grits out, pulling you down on his fat cock so you don’t bounce away from Marcus’ talented tongue.

“Could do better,” Marcus says thoughtfully, reaching for the bottle of lube. Slicking up his fingers, he slides his hand down to tease Jack’s rim.

“Fuck, baby, you know how I like that,” Jack groans, bringing a wicked smile to Marcus’ face. Kissing your mound, Jack tenses hard under you with a broken gasp. “Fuckfuckfuckfuck, yes baby, that’s fucking perfect, you keep your fingers right there while I cum in her. Just like that, sweet boy.”

Leaning down you grab Marcus by the jaw and devour him, teeth clacking briefly as you fill his mouth with your tongue. He whimpers below you before you part, lips spit-slicked and slacked.

“Gonna cum, sweetheart, Marcus you better…” Jack threatens but Marcus is already latching his mouth onto your clit, sucking hard and fast while his fingers flex inside Jack. The relentless grind against your g-spot, the ruthless pressure on your clit, the overwhelming ache that can’t build anymore before it needs to go somewhere washes over you, and you cum with a wail on these two gorgeous men. Jack follows as your walls flutter around him, with a litany of, “That’s it baby, your pussy’s so fucking good, I’m…oh shit, I’m cumming, M-Marcus baby don’t stop, don’t you fucking stop, oh shiiiiii…” You faintly wonder if Marcus came again before a spurt of hot cum against your calf answers your question.

The silence that follows, filled with gasps and panting and weak hands on skin, is the moment you dread. It’s the last moment before the peace and quiet in your mind fades, urging you to gather up your clothes and go before you say something or do something that will ruin this. But with Marcus wrapping his arms around you, resting his head on your shoulder, and Jack pressed against your back, you have no place to go. 

“Thank you, darlin’, that was the most fun I’ve had in a long time, wouldn’t you agree?” Jack says, pressing a line of kisses from behind your ear to the curve of your shoulder. Marcus leans back and thumbs your chin, tired eyes and a loose smile.

“Definitely. Can we take care of you now, sweetheart?” 

Your eyebrows must have pulled up into a frown, because Marcus chuckles just a little and cradles your head.

“What, you thought we’d fuck you and make you leave?” he teases, and you have to school your face carefully. You didn’t expect them to be this caring, or kind.

Liar.

Then you didn’t expect them to want more than your body once they were through.

Liar.

Then what did you expect?

Marcus thankfully speaks, similar to that that soothing way Jack enticed you here.

“Well then, I’m going to take you into the shower to clean you up, and Jack’s gonna make the bed and join us after. Once we’re clean and hydrated, I’m going to put on The Thin Man and we’re going to get into bed together. If you’re not comfortable spending the night, I understand. But I - we - want you to. Not just because tomorrow morning I want to wake you up with both of our heads between your legs.” Jack slides out of you and holds you in his arms, nuzzling into the back of your neck. 

“I don’t…” you try to say, both men waiting patiently. “I didn’t expect this. I don’t know what to do now.”

Liar.

You know exactly what to do. 

Stay.

Marcus’ lopsided smile and Jack’s pressed into your skin are promises you never asked for, but would gladly accept.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. We’ve got you.”

END

[simpingcowboy]

Lovelight

Pairing: Marcus Pike x GN!Reader, established relationship

Word Count: 2k+

Warnings: Being aggressively in love with Marcus Pike, light use of pet names, getting almost stood up, feeling of romantic inadequacy, just a teensy bit meta, The Wizard of Oz spoilers?

Summary: Even the worst of days are made better with your boyfriend Marcus Pike around

A/N: Another one down for my Year of ABBA as part of the "Year Of" Creations @yearofcreation2023 February edition!!! I've been on a Marcus kick so here we are!

It was a miserable day. A long, terrible, tiresome day. Even your room, your personal sanctuary, felt dreary and gloomy. The wide window offered no comfort either. The rain falling over D.C. clouded the skies. The whole world looked dark from inside your apartment. You let out a sigh of exhaustion; surrendering to the comfort of your bed. As you stare up at the blank old dirty ceiling, a soft knock is heard from the door.

"Babe?" The voice calls, slowly unlocking the door.

You perk up at that voice. Marcus…you smile to yourself, realizing your partner is at the door. Finally, using the spare key you'd given him ages ago.

"I'm here! Come on in." You call back to him.

You sit up on the bed, and make your way over to the door. The two of you practically bump into each other as you meet in the narrow doorway. Marcus looks as perfect as ever. Nicely clean shaven, hair just a bit tussled from the day, in his usual black suit and blue button up combo, a beautiful bundle of flowers in his hands.

"Woah!" Marcus says, trying not to knock you over. "Hi Baby," he says cheerfully, "I heard you had a bit of a day so I uhh thought I'd surprise you." A big smile overcomes his face as he tilts the flowers towards you. "Tada!"

Your eyes shift down to the bouquet. You find yourself giggling at the barcode still peeking out from the top. Imagining Marcus running out from the office to the corner store to grab these. Still, the colors are vibrant. Your favorite. The smell is bright. As you gaze back up at Marcus, the whole world feels brighter too.

"Do you like them? Sorry I couldn't go to the usual florist but I-" Marcus rambles on.

"No." You answer with a smile, taking the flowers in your arms. "They're perfect. You're perfect."

A tinge of red flushes his cheeks at your statement. "Far from it but I'm glad you like them. I also-" he reaches around the still open door to grab a bag from the hallway, "got take out! It's your favorite." He smiles bashfully. Suddenly concerned he'd gone a bit overboard. "I hope it's okay."

"You really are perfect, huh?" You tease, pulling him in and shutting the door behind him.

"I try." He concedes with a shrug. Moving the take out over to your table. Carefully pulling the food out of the bag.

You go to the kitchen, grabbing a vase and filling it with water. Dropping the bouquet in and rushing it over to show Marcus. "Look how pretty they are!" You can't help but smile at them. They fit perfectly. Suddenly, you could ignore all the old stains on the table top.

He chuckles at you, "They look good in here." He agrees.

You inhale, getting a sniff of the food. "That smells so good!" You exclaim, taking your seat across from Marcus.

"Ugh you're telling me! I had to stop myself from just eating it all in the car." He laughs, taking the plastic utensils in his hands.

You eagerly dig in. The flavors hitting your tongue like a firework. It was so rich. Cooked to absolute perfection. Though you know it had likely been some fifteen minutes of waiting in Marcus's car, it was somehow the perfect temperature. "Oh Marcus…I swear the food is never this good when you're not there! Are you sure you're not tipping off the chef or something?"

He scoffs, smiling at the absurdity. "Babe, the first time I went there was with you. There's no way I would have been able to do that."

You squint your eyes at him, a look of fake suspicion on your face. "I'm onto you Agent Pike."

"Yeah yeah," he rolls his eyes, taking another bite of his dinner, "eat your food!"

You continue chatting through dinner, airing out all of the day's frustrations. To which Marcus dutifully listens. He then goes on to talk a bit about his day. Nothing exciting, just writing up reports on his latest sting. Though he just so fails to mention how he left most of them piled on his desk when he heard of your bad day. Still- you cling to every word. At times it felt like Marcus could be talking about nothing at all, and you'd still be totally fascinated about it. Eventually you both finish. Marcus is quick to insist on cleaning up. Claiming as he always did that he had "brought the mess over" and therefore was responsible to clean it. Knowing that fight was yours to lose, you allow it. Watching from the table as he neatly stacks the takeout boxes before throwing them in the trash.

"All done!" Marcus claps his hands together celebratory. "Any ideas for how you'd like to spend the rest of the night?"

You pause to think, "Maybe a movie?"

He smiles with a nod. "Sounds good." He pulls on his tie, loosening it from around his neck. "Do you mind if I change first?"

"Be my guest. Your clothes are in the second drawer where they always are."

Marcus rounds the corner to your bedroom to change. You take the opportunity to get comfortable on the couch. Your body sinks into the soft cushions. A relaxed sigh leaving your body as your hands trace over the smooth material. Everything felt so cozy.

"This look alright?" Marcus steps out into the room giving you a spin. A white V-neck t-shirt on, paired with his comfy grey sweatpants.

You smile up at him, he just looks so snuggleable! "You look great. Now, come here!" You reach for him with outstretched arms.

Marcus, never one to keep you waiting, is quick to join you on the couch. Sitting besides you, pulling you into his chest in a tight embrace. "Alright, what are we watching?"

"No clue." You shrug.

"Channel flipping it is!" Taking the remote in his hand, he begins scouring for something to watch. "Ohh here's something, The Wizard of Oz?"

You watch him with wide eyes. A sense of sentimentality taking over you. "That's the first movie we saw together."

Marcus pauses for a moment, remembering. "Yeah…it is, isn't it? Though, I think we missed the opening of it."

"Which was your fault by the way!"

"Traffic was bad!" He defends.

You can't help but tease. "Excuses, excuses!" You huff as the memory of that date.

You stood impatiently on a corner downtown, across from the movie theatre. Tapping your foot and struggling to stop yourself from sending another text asking if Marcus was standing you up. It'd been about ten minutes since the movie started, and another twenty minutes since Marcus was supposed to have been there. Suppressing the tear in your eye, you bite the bullet and turn to head home. A hand grabbing your waist from behind to stop you.

"Wait-" the man pleads with a voice you recognize, Marcus. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. The traffic was so bad and I- I got here as fast as I could. I didn't see your texts until I was here. And I-" he pauses.

You turned slowly, with half a mind to tell him off for almost making you cry. But you can't. As soon as Marcus was in view, all your frustrations disappeared. It didn't matter that he was late. Only that he was here. And that those big brown puppy dog eyes were all yours again.

"Fuck-" he cuts himself off, leaning in to kiss you unable to resist the urge.

You relax even further into his touch. His hands still on your waist pulling you closer. Your hands wrapping around his neck, holding him to you. "Marcus…" you murmur softly, pulling away briefly.

"I'm sorry." He repeats against your lips. "I should have been here." He kisses you once more, pulling you tight against him.

Suddenly, the traffic seemed to get a little lighter.

"Marcus?" You grab his attention, your mind focusing back on the present. "What happens in the beginning anyways?"

"Of The Wizard of Oz?"

You answer with a nod.

"Well. We start out in Kansas with Dorthy who just got out of school. She's just kind of going about her day. Running into a whole little cast of characters that make up the main cast. A mean neighbor who's the witch. Lion, scarecrow, and the tinman are this group of guys who work on the farm. So on and so on. Same as the end of the film. She sings a little song and then a tornado happens. And we're in Oz!"

"There's a transition, right? When the movie switches into color?"

"Ah yes! That's the really cool part! After the tornado, she opens the door and the world outside is in color. I looked up how they did it but…it kind of ruins the magic." He says with a guilty smile.

"I know the feeling. Of Dorthy I mean. That feeling of the world suddenly being in color.'

"Yeah?" Marcus prompts you, asking for more.

You lean into his ear, with a low whisper, "The same feelings I get being around you."

He playfully pushes you off, "Okay now you're just teasing." His cheeks red with embarrassment.

"I'm serious, Marcus." You wrangle your way back into his arms. "I felt horrible earlier, but there's just something…when you're around…I don't know. My days are just so much better. It's like this aura? Or vibe?"

"A lovelight?" Marcus offers.

"Love-light?" You repeat.

"Yeah, you know…like the ABBA song?" He sighs and begins to half heartedly sing, "You must have a lovelight, everything around you is lovelight."

You chuckle, Marcus's affinity for old media never failing to entertain you.

"You've gotta know that one!"

"I do, I was just hoping you'd sing it for me." You smirk, knowing your plan worked.

He laughs, hiding his face behind his hands. "You got me."

You smile at him, moving his hands to plant a soft kiss on his lips. A smile tucked into each of your faces. "I like it." You quietly say into the kiss.

"Like what?"

"Lovelight…it fits." You nuzzle against his cheek. "You light up my whole world, Marcus. All the things you do. The things you say. Just the way you are. Everything around you is…lovelight."

His face goes red at your turn of affection. "You like it? It's not too much?" Insecurity creeps up his neck. He knows previous partners had felt suffocated by his attentiveness. But if you really liked it maybe…

"Yes. I love it. It makes me feel good. Being with you feels right. Everything about you is right." You lean, gently pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Don't let anyone dim your lovelight, Marcus."

Under you, Marcus anxiously bites his cheeks. His sweet dimples popping in and out as he tries to hide a smile. His eyes, dancing around to avoid catching yours. Though he has lots to say, "I love you…" is all he manages to vocalize.

You smile into his jaw, "I love you too Marcus. Now, I believe we have a movie to watch!" You relax back down at his side.

Marcus flashes you a quick grin. "To Oz we go." He says as he turns on the film.

The rest of the night is peaceful. Full of behind the scene facts from Marcus, and snacks you'd been saving for moments like this. After the film ends, you're both quick to agree to turn in early. Both you and Marcus are tired from your day, and know the next will be equally as tiring as well. Marcus takes his place in bed beside you, turning off the bedside lamp.

"Goodnight Baby." He gives you a soft kiss before tucking himself under the comforter.

"Goodnight Marcus." You return his notion.

As you get comfortable under the covers, you notice something. With Marcus around, even that old dirty ceiling seems a little whiter.

[for-a-longlongtime]

Bestie I have a very important question about your Maverick series. When you visualise him, is your Marcus Pike a clean shaven Marcus, or Marcus with scruff? Field research attached.

BESTIE I absolutely love this question!!! I'm always up for endless character talk tbh, and this one is particularly interesting for me, esp because I don't quite consider myself to be a Marcus girlie.

First things first: Marcus with the (canon) revenge beard is 100% my Marcus in general. When I see 'current day' Marcus with Tim (for my Rockford/Pena WIP), he's looking exactly like that.

It's not just because I think it's so attractive, but the actual way that Pedro plays Marcus in that final Mentalist episode is SO different from the rest of it. He holds his body differently, he takes up space differently, there's an extra confidence in how he talks (down to his cadence), his facial expressions - everything. You can really see that he has played Oberyn at that point and not only sharpened his acting skills a lot, but just generally seems more confident and aware of how he can convey a lot without even talking.

HOWEVER.

The Maverick series takes place about two years before my Rockford/Pena WIP, and in my head this is definitely clean shaven Marcus. I can even be really specific: this was the gif I had in mind of him, but then kneeled in front of (Fight Night locker room scene) Frankie who has one hand in his hair. This style is also pretty close to how I see Marcus when he and Tim met & became a couple.

So this Marcus is indeed a little younger, a little different kind of confidence, and really (as @theywhowriteandknowthings said) A Good Boy™. I was surprised to have him pop up, but I could see immediately how he and Frankie would get along in several ways; these two are pretty different personality wise, but Frankie likes how Marcus is all bright eyed, cheerful and social but without being annoying. He wasn't expecting or looking to get to know him initially, it was just a matter of attraction and lust in that locker room. But when they met up that second time, he just found himself a lot more into Marcus than he expected. He's not exactly Frankie's usual type, but that's also why they click.

Now, looking a little ahead again -- to the Rockford/Pena WIP, where Marcus is rocking the revenge beard and has the confidence etc that comes with that. Personally, I see that as some influence on him by Frankie, especially with the scruff. I feel like Frankie brings out some parts of Marcus that he maybe wasn't too familiar with yet, and that definitely impacts him, even in the way he carries himself (aka 'the Oberyn effect').

There's one fun tidbit I can tell you re: Marcus in that WIP; there are going to be some flashbacks to about 8 years ago (which would be 6 years before the Maverick series takes place) to an even younger Marcus, who meets another crucial person in his life/in that WIP. The visual for Marcus at that time is very much Zach Wellison vibes:

SO. To quote Pedro, "I bet you weren't expecting me to start telling you this long story", LOL. But this is how I see him/them in my fic! Thank you for giving me an opportunity to wax about this, I love it 💜 Feel free to ask questions anytime!

[canyon1899]

Raiders of the Lost Ark – Alternative Ending

A short story by Canyon

"You've done your country a great service and we thank you", said Colonel Musgrove to Indiana Jones. "And, uh, we trust you found the settlement satisfactory?"

"Oh, they money's fine", began Indy. "But the situation is totally unacceptable."

"Well, gentlemen, I guess this just about wraps it up", finished Major Eaton

"Where is the Ark?" asked Brody, his voice full of urgency and concern.

"I thought we'd settled that. The Ark is somewhere very safe", replied Eaton.

"From whom?" asked Indy.

Brody was having none of it: "The Ark is a source of unspeakable power and it has to be researched."

"And it will be, I assure you", began Eaton. "Doctor Brody, Doctor Jones. We have top men working on it right now."

Indy leaned forward: "Who?"

Eaton replied with just two words: "Top Men."

Just at that moment, there was a knock at the door.

Eaton sighed. "Come in!"

An older gentlemen dressed in a suit came in and approached Eaton. He then whispered something in his ear.

Eaton looked uncomfortable as the man left.

"Ah gentlemen", he began. "There appears to have been a misunderstanding. According to an almost forgotten law from the 1920's, we, the government cannot take the Ark away. Therefore, as you have already realized, you are free to display the Ark in a museum of your choosing."

Indy and Marcus looked at each other, a slow smile spreading across their faces.

Two days later.

After some well-deserved rest, Indiana Jones was ready to attend the grand opening display of the Ark of the Covenant.

He had just arrived at Marcus' museum and was on his way to the East Wing, where the opening was taking place.

Indy was clean shaven and was wearing a black tuxedo, complete with a red silk carnation on the lapel.

He walked through the door and was just about to take in the sight of the Ark, when several people noticed his entrance and gave a round of applause. Indy offered a slight lop-sided smile and bowed slightly.

Marcus approached him with a big smile on his face.

"Indy, it's so good to see you here!" said his friend, jubilantly. "The Ark, it seems, lights up the whole room!"

"Thanks Marcus. It's good to be here. Have you seen Marion?"

Just as he had spoken the words, he noticed an attractive figure enter the room.

It was Marion and she was wearing a red floor length evening gown and looked stunning.

Indy smiled and as he did, she saw him and smiled.

"Well Jones, you really did it", she said admiringly, as they both approached the Ark which was in the center of the room surrounded by thick glass.

"I did. You know something, Marion; the Ark is a lot like you."

"Yeah, how so?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

He turned to her, and put a hand round her waist. "Well, the Ark is stunning, beautiful to look at…"

He never finished his sentence as Marion's lips met his and they were both swept up in a glorious kiss.

Moments later, staff and reporters were gathered at the podium and Indy heard his name mentioned by Marcus a couple of times.

"I guess that's my cue", he told Marion.

Just as he was about to go, Marion grabbed his arm and pulled him into another kiss.

"Wow! What was that for?" he asked.

"For still being the man that I fell in love with ten years ago."

THE END

[safetycar-restart]

Thought One:

I've heard from other blogs that George that prefers his s/o to be completely waxed which got me thinking which of the subs would go completely hairless/want you to be as well and which wouldn't care? Which subs do you think would get waxed when they're big so they are hairless for playtime (with max, Pierre, Charles, Mick, lando, George, alex, seb, Arthur and whoever else you want to do) Please ignore If you don't feel comfortable with this one

Thought two: Do you think there's any specific ritual that the subs (whoever you would like to do) have to go into subspace like a certain song/playlist or taking a bath, etc

Thought Three: which of the littles do you think would get really into Christmas; like making a gingerbread house, decorating the house, wearing a ugly sweaters on Christmas day, snowball fights, making snowman and what their favorite gift from you was (sorry I know it's a little late for Christmas asks but couldn't get this idea out of my head after I saw Charles family picture with the ugly sweaters)

(sorry I just kind of started rambling)

And if I could claim the emoji 🌺 please

Firstly, of course you can claim that emoji!! I'll add to the claimed list, and welcome to the emoji anons!!! Welcome welcome!!! These thoughts are all fucking incredible. This is an amazing way to start your emoji anon career holy fuck!!! We're gonna talk a little bit about each one :))

THOUGHT ONE:

I definitely think George would be waxed all over. He prides himself in it as well. You dont particularly care if he's a few days late on his waxing schedule, but he does. He must be perfectly waxed.

Charles waxes his legs and chest, because he loves them being hairless. He also waxes his ass. He used to painstakingly shave his pubic hair and he HATED it. He always cut himself and got ingrown hair and he often ended up in tears trying to do it. (Maybe he had an old dom who insisted he was clean shaven down there) You see his struggles and voice to him one day that if he's only shaving for you, he can stop. Now he just trims his pubic hair and he's SO much happier.

Pierre is not waxed or shaved. He trims his pubic hair, but that's it. He loves how he feels when he's not trying to relentlessly control all his body hair, and he looks damn good too.

I think that Carlos, Arthur and Marcus would all want you to choose what they do with this body hair? What will make them happier is doing whatever you want them to, knowing that you're happy with them. Sometimes you'll make them change it up just so that they have to put more effort in and feel like very good boys.

As for Max and Mick, I think they've both always wanted to wax or shave everything? Except, they've felt like they shouldn't? Like they'd be less manly if they did. So they didn't. Until you came along and made them feel so safe and comfortable, safe enough to voice their desires and have you help them.

THOUGHT TWO:

Some subs (ahem, Charles), can slip into subspace at the drop of a hat once they're comfortable with you. One moment they're cuddling with you and the next their head is all fuzzy and they can't speak anymore. Sometimes, Arthur and Lando can do the same, but they're not as quick with it as Charles.

However, I think max really struggles to get into subspace sometimes. And you have to be very careful about how you handle it because max can get VERY upset and frustrated about it. All he wants is to enter subspace and relax, but he just can't. So you start having a routine with him. He always takes a bath in the same bubble bath and then gets a massage. Having a routine like that, something that brings him into a calmer, steadier headspace, is exactly what he needs.

I think that Mick and Esteban also enjoy a routine, despite not actually needing one? Kneeling with some praise and cuddles or simply just beginning the scene could get them to subspace. But they both LOVE having a routine, love having a set of things they must do.

THOUGHT THREE:

Little!Charles definitely loves Christmas! He doesnt really enjoy all the activities, because a lot of them are loud or messy, neither of which he likes. However, he loves decorating and watching Christmas movies and wearing Christmas jumpers!! And of course he loves giving all his friends and family gifts.

Little!Mick, on the other hand, loves ALL the activities! He wants to play in the snow and build gingerbread houses and go gift shopping! He has the best time.

I was thinking about little!George, and honestly I think he might not like Christmas? Cause he doesnt like change, or crowds, or having lots of people over. Sure the Christmas tree is pretty, but when he's very little, it's scary! It's something he didnt expect to be in his safe space. And having so many people over all the time is overwhelming!!! He wants to curl up with you.

[pedroscurls]

I gotta know is second chances Marcus clean shaven or rugged beard Marcus? Bc these are two very different Marcus’ lol.

loving this sweet series. It’s my total comfort fic 😘

hi, that’s a great question! and thanks for reading🫶

truthfully, I’ve been imagining clean shaven Marcus in the first two parts, but there’s a possibility that rugged beard Marcus will make an appearance as the story progresses… (hint hint😉)

[creedslove]

clean shaven pedro pascal makes me weak on the knees 🫦

[agentmarcuspike]

do you know who would absolutely LOVE kissing your cheek? MARCUS-PERFECT BOYFRIEND-PIKE!!!!

also hi it's me, marcus anon, back with another headcanon kinda

you reblogged a post about nose kisses and stuff ik it was like two days ago but i started it and then didn’t have time to finish and it made me think about how marcus is definitely the kind of person who loves kissing you in other places than your lips (am I making sense?)

obviously I'm not saying he doesn't enjoy kissing your lips quite the contrary but he also has a habit of kissing you all the time, pretty much everywhere.

maybe it's just because I'm like that let's blame the french that I am but kissing cheeks as a greeting is something very special to me.

i’m getting less and less awkward about touching people but something that has never bothered me was kissing someone’s cheek. 

of course, most of the time it’s the regular cheek kissing (la bise) which is just putting your cheek against someone else’s and doing that kissing noise

but i’m talking about actual cheek kisses.

and our boy marcus definitely is a big cheek-kisser.

when he’s in a rush and he wants to say hello/goodbye, when he says thank you, right before bringing you into a big hug and more simply, when he’s feeling affectionate and wants to show you he loves you (especially in public)

again, it’s probably just me but i’m not comfortable AT ALL with pda. like definitely the kind to make out with my partner in public but i don’t mind low-key gestures such as cheek kisses.

while thinking about this headcanon i asked myself why i found cheek kisses so sweet and the only answer i could come up with is that it’s there is something so precious, so wholesome about kissing someone’s cheek. i believe it’s one of the most purest way of showing your love for someone and i refuse to believe it is that underrated

also i feel like just as he enjoys kissing you on your cheek, he loves receiving kisses there.

he loves it when you kiss him and crunch your nose up because his stubble tickled you, loves it even more when you kiss him after he’s shaved because his skin is all soft and warm one might even argue he shaves just for that 

and let’s be honest pictures of you kissing his cheek/him kissing yours are the cutest and you probably have hundreds of those.

so yeah, support cheek kisses for clear skin <3

hello and you are absolutely correct as usual!!! it's so gentle and pure, exactly like the way he loves. "when he’s in a rush and he wants to say hello/goodbye, when he says thank you, right before bringing you into a big hug" ahhh!!

and him shaving more often because you love kissing and touching his face so much 😩 maybe that's why i'm so week for clean-shaven P, it makes him so soft and smoochable...

ALSO sidenote, someone wanting to take facekissing pictures with me??? crying. the bar is on the floor but still.....

ps i'm gonna be a bridesmaid at a wedding in france next year and if marcus isn't there to la bise me???? bye

[musings-of-a-rose]

Paint Me a Song

This was a pm'd ask from @alindeluce

I would request a story where reader and Marcus meet in a karaoke bar. First the reader is very shy but then comes their song and they just smash it? I always imagine "Addicted to you" but thats maybe a little bit cheesy. :D Take the song you think is perfect ;) Thank you sooooo much! I'm open for everything but when it's a little bit more fluff I'm not mad. Maybe a little make out Session afterwards with a promise for more. :)

Pairing: Marcus Pike x f!reader

Word Count: 1700+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: The song used is “Addicted to You” by Avicii. I’ll link it here. 

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

Marcus Pike Masterlist

Main Masterlist

All you had wanted was a drink after a long week at work, but you’d completely forgotten that you avoided this particular bar on this particular day. Why? Because it was “Random Stranger Duet” Night. Everyone who walked in gets a number written on the back of their hand in sharpie and a computer randomly picks 2 numbers and a song. Those people then have to karaoke duet that song. While most people thought this was fun and a great way to meet new people, it’s not the best if you just want a drink. 

Taking a sip from the glass set in front of you, staring at the number 42 on the back of your hand, you desperately hope they’ll run out of time or you’ll finish your drinks before your number is called. As you take the last sip, the song ends and half the bar claps absentmindedly. 

“Alright time for the next number draw,” a waitress hops on stage and hits a button on a laptop. 

“19 and….42!”

Did she just say 42? Fuck.

You groan, turning in your barstool to stand and tell the waitress to draw another number (although that never works out for anyone who does), when your eyes find the man that has quietly approached the little half stage, presumably number 19. He’s handsome, clean shaven, dark hair and eyes, with a distinct nose, chisled jawline, and broad fucking shoulders that taper down to a slim hip line. He has a confidence to him but it’s obviously not for karaoke because he also looks nervous as hell as he talks to the waitress. 

Great - now I have to look like an idiot in front of the hottest guy I’ve ever seen?

You turn and ask for another shot, quickly slamming it back as the waitress calls “Number 42? Come on up!”

Making your way through the crowd, you arrive at the stage and show the back of your hand to the waitress. “42.”

She claps her hands together once. “Perfect! Ok the song the computer chose for y’all is Addicted to You by Avicii. It’s ok if you don’t know the words because we’ll have them up on that screen there.” She points to a computer screen that’s a little lower than the 2 mics on the little stage. “Head on up and I’ll get the song queued up!” She turns to the computer and starts to work, leaving you and number 19 to get on stage.

He hops up first then turns to offer his hand to you with a small smile. You take his hand and it’s so warm as he tightens his grip to help you on stage. When you’re standing next to him, he switches his hand position to a shake. 

“Marcus.”

You tell him your name. 

“That’s a beautiful name.”

You feel heat rising to your cheeks as he continues to make a ridiculous amount of eye contact. “Th-thanks.”

“Alright! Pressing play! 42 - you start!” The waitress calls to you both and you blink, the spell he had on you broken as you both turn towards the monitor and the music starts. 

I don’t know just how it happened

I let down my guard

Swore I’d never fall in love again

But I fell hard

You’re quiet at first, but then your nerves leave you enough that you realize you know this song. Drowning everyone else out, you sing your part to the best of your ability, paying attention to the monitor to know when it’s Marcus’s turn.

Who turns out to be an amazing singer. 

Midnight blows in through the window

Dances ‘round the room

Got me hypnotized

I’m getting high on love with you

Your voices melt together in the chorus and as the song ends, a few people that had actually been listening clap. Marcus turns to you and smiles and you return it, unable to quite meet his gaze.

“Great job 42 and 19! Let’s see who’s next!” 

Marcus jumps off the stage and turns back, offering you his hand again. You take it, hopping down, but this time he doesn’t pull his hand back. 

“I was hoping…maybe I could buy you a drink?”

“Me?” You ask, a little taken aback that a man this handsome would even talk to you let alone ask to buy you a drink. 

He smiles warmly. “Yes, you. If that’s ok?” His eyes are big and round and look just like a puppy. You find yourself unable to deny him anything.

“Y-yeah. I’d like that.”

“Great!” Marcus leads you through the crowd and back to the bar, somehow managing to score 2 open barstools next to each other. He pulls yours out and you sit, watching him scoot in and flag the bartender down. You both place a drink order before he turns to look at you.

“I have to admit - I was terrified to go up there and sing.”

You scoff. “You? You have an amazing voice though!”

Marcus blushes, pink dusting across his clean shaven cheeks. “I don’t know about that, darling.”

“I do. I was listening. Nearly forgot I had to sing too.”

“You’re not so bad yourself, you know.”

You put your hand up. “Thanks Marcus, but I know my talents lie elsewhere.” 

Your drinks arrive and you both pause to take a sip, setting your cups back down on the wet bar napkins.

“So, Marcus. What do you do?”

“I��m a spy.”

You laugh, throwing your head back and missing the darkening look in Marcus’s eyes as he scans down your neck and chest, bringing them quickly back to your eyes as you bring your head back.

“I’m sorry but if you were a spy, you couldn’t tell me.”

“Says who? Wait…are you a spy?”

You laugh again, grabbing your glass to take a sip. “If I was I certainly couldn’t tell you.”

He laughs at that and takes a sip himself. 

“Actually, I work for the CIA.”

“Ok, but that’s so cool! What do you do? Or can I not ask that?”

He chuckles. “Oh you can ask anything you want but it doesn’t mean I can tell you. But I can answer your question. I work in the stolen art division. Basically when someone’s priceless art gets stolen, I lead the investigation to get it back.”

“Wait…are you Marcus Pike?”

He squints his eyes slightly. “Yes?”

“Oh my God! The Marcus Pike that made that bust that saved 10 originals, including a Picasso??”

“I…am..wait how did you know about that?”

“I’m the curator at the Benoiff Art Museum. We all talk to each other. I followed that case closely! That was impressive work.”

Marcus looks taken aback. “You’re an art curator?”

You nod excitedly. “I am! And I’m sitting here talking to the Marcus Pike. You’re a hero in our community.”

He blushes, finally breaking that intense eye contact he’s given you all night, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. “Oh I don’t know about hero. It’s just my job.”

“Yeah, but it was you who cracked their code and figured out how they were stealing things. I doubt anyone else would’ve solved it.” You place your hand over his on the bar and give it a squeeze. “You’re really brave to have gone after them after all the violence they’d left in their wake.”

“I don’t-”

“Marcus. Take the compliment.” 

He smiles at you as he brings his gaze to yours and nods. “Thank you.”

A couple hours goes by, Marcus asking about your job, hobbies, what each of your favorite artists and painters are, conversation flowing easy between the both of you. Suddenly your pocket vibrates and you apologize to Marcus, pulling it out and seeing your alarm blaze across the screen “GO HOME. GET SLEEP.”

“Shit is it 1am already?” You say out loud and Marcus looks at his watch.

“It is. Shit, I have to be at the office in like 5 hours to brief a team. Can I walk you to your car?”

“Sure!”

Marcus insists on paying for your drinks and places his hand just above your lower back, not touching you but helping to guide you through the crowd and outside, walking back around the building to the parking lot. You chat as he walks you towards the back to your car, turning to him as you laugh at something funny he said. 

“I really enjoyed talking with you tonight, darling. Well and singing too.” You both chuckle as you look away and back, nervously. 

“I did too Marcus.”

“Do you… can I take you out for dinner?”

A smile stretches across your face as your eyes light up. “I’d love that!”

“Great!”

A moment of silence passes between you both as you look into the other’s eyes. Marcus takes a hesitant step towards you and cups your cheek with his hand, warmth seeping out across your skin. He lowers his face towards yours but stops just short of your lips.

“Can I kiss you?” He whispers. 

You nod but that’s not good enough for him.

“I need to hear you say it, darling.”

“Yes. Kiss me Mar-”

His lips cut you off mid sentence, soft, warm, and gentle as he holds your face, his tongue licking at your lips. Your lips part and he slides his tongue in, moaning as he does. Your hands wind around his neck and scratch gently through his shorter hair, tugging on it a little when you can grip it. He growls in response and you tug harder, feeling him wrap his arms around you and pull you close, your head tipping back so you don’t lose contact with him. He leans you against the car, towering over you as he deepens the kiss for a few more moments, making out with you in the parking lot like he doesn’t care who sees. He pulls back just a little, bringing your bottom lip with him and letting it go with a plop. When he speaks, it’s low and lustful.

“Can I take you to dinner tonight? That’s not too soon is it?”

“It’s not soon enough.”

He chuckles against your lips, kissing you one more time before pulling back.

“7pm ok?”

“I can’t wait.”

—----

General Taglist:

@frankie-catfish-morales @chaoticgeminate @janebby @astoryisaloveaffair @balekanemohafe @softpedropascal @greeneyedblondie44 @hoeforthefictional @marvelousmermaid @hauntedmama @giuliarogers-blog @icanbeyourjedi @diaryofkali @sunnshineeexoxo @livingmydreams13 @adventures-of-a-noodle @sara-alonso  @theewokingdead @punkerthanpascal @giggly-otter @f0rever15elf @phandoz @dirtytissuebox @jadore-andor @gallowsjoker @lovesbiggerthanpride  @sarahmilesbendrix @booksarekindaneat @mrsudontknowme @swol-bear @charlispersonallyhell @xoxabs88xox @amneris21 @gooddaykate @alindeluce @avengers-fixation @paintballkid711 @harriedandharassed   @ladykatakuri @marrianena  @practicalghost @withakindheartx @batdarkladyvampir @justanotherkpopstanlol   

[wyn-n-tonic]

raise your hand if you feel personally victimized by Game of Thrones because that meant Marcus "Big Thicc Broad Boi" Pike came back for season seven skinny as hell.

[prolix-yuy]

Writers’ Iron Chef #10: The List

[PROMPT] Half the names on the list have already been crossed off.

[TIME LIMIT] Optional, 10 minutes prep. time 30 minutes writing time Optional, 10 minutes editing time

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!Reader

Rating: T, flirtingggg, Marcus being way too sweet and way too smooth.

Summary: Did he really just say that?

Notes: Written for Writers’ Iron Chef Prompt 10.

This little scene (with some creative liberties taken) actually happened to me a few weeks ago, and what better Pedro boy to stand in for the rando I met than Marcus Pike. Technically there's no gendered language in here, but I wrote it with a F!Reader in mind. Enjoy a little meet cute fun!

“So your friends are the kind that are always late too?”

The question catches you off guard, head turning at the unfamiliar voice. It’s Friday night, a birthday dinner with friends, and you’re indeed waiting. You’d already gone up to the hostess stand, scanning her reservation list when she didn’t find your name immediately. Half the names on the list had already been crossed off, but yours was close to the bottom.

Your phone lights up. Only ten minutes late. You’d waited longer.

“Yeah...” you say back to the man sitting on the other end of the bench. He’s sporting some nicely fitted jeans, a gray t-shirt and leather jacket, which clash sweetly against his soft expression. Clean-shaven with short brown hair framing sparkling brown eyes, his features are eye-catching, a square jaw and curved nose over ridiculously full lips. Any clever retort you had fades to nothing in his knowing gaze.

“Mine too, I should really tell them to be here fifteen minutes early so they’ll be on time for once,” he jokes with a boyish smile. Returning the smile, you turn your phone’s screen over and tilt your head at him. 

“That’s a great idea, I’ll have to borrow it for next time,” you muse, and his eyes crinkle up when he smiles just a little bit bigger. It makes your pulse flutter, which you ignore. Just pleasant conversation.

He gives you his name - Marcus - and you offer yours, enjoying the way he rolls it off his tongue.

“Have you been here before?” he asks, hands folded in his lap and ankle resting on his knee. The undivided attention makes you a little giddy, easing quickly from surprise to comraderie.

“Before it went under new management. I like what they’ve done with the place,” you reply, eyes passing over the updated decor. “You?”

“First time, my friends love it,” he says, looking at his own phone with a shake of his head. “Anything fun planned?” 

“My friend’s birthday, we’re making a night of it.” You normally wouldn't divulge, but this stranger has settled comfort in your chest. “Dinner, then salsa dancing after.” 

Marcus' eyebrows raise, smile mischievous. “You salsa dance?” he asks, and you halfheartedly realize how long it's been since a man has given you such rapt attention.

“Yeah, I know a few moves,” you say, and his impressed nod warms you.

“Well, it sounds like a lovely night,” he hums, twiddling his thumbs together as he looks over at you a little more coyly. “Though if it wasn’t your friend’s birthday, I’d suggest we ditch them all and go get something to eat ourselves.”

Your heartbeat hammers into high speed, heat rising up your neck. Stealing a glance back, you gauge his expression. He’s teasing on the surface, but underneath you can sense the ripple of truth in his suggestion. There’s nothing pushy about it. He’s already leaning back, making himself smaller, and you can tell he wouldn’t push if you scoffed at the suggestion. 

Eyes drawn to his hands, you admire the width of his palms, the artistic fold of his fingers together, how his thumb worries at the skin of his index. 

You open your mouth to speak and…

A rapid knock on the window turns your attention outside to your friends, waving through the glass. In the moment you have before they come through the door, you catch Marcus' eye. His expression is cool, resigned, pleasant. It makes you want to throw caution to the wind.

“Maybe next time?” you toss back before standing to hug the birthday girl. You miss his reaction, but you hope it’s pleased.

The dinner is excellent, filled with jokes and banter. After you were seated Marcus walked past and wished your friend a happy birthday, making you fumble with an explanation as the hostess seated him a couple tables away. As engaging as the company is, your eyes keep slipping over to him. His seat faces yours, and on more than one occasion you catch each other's eyes, exchanging exaggerated expressions or warm smiles.

It’s exciting, but you can't get ahead of yourself. No way he’s actually single, or actually thinks you're cute enough to pick up in a restaurant, or actually wants to talk to you again after that brief conversation. It's just harmless fun, and when the bill comes he’ll leave without a fuss.

The evening wraps up, most of the table leaving together for a bathroom break. You hold back, waiting for the bill to return with the wad of credit cards you apologetically foisted onto the waitress. After they’ve rounded the corner out of sight you search for Marcus' smile once more.

His table is empty.

Even with the preparation, it still twists your stomach just a little knowing the fun is done. A titillating moment, fleeting and fast. At least it will make you smile for a few days.

A person comes to your shoulder, and presuming it’s the waiter you turn to face them.

It’s Marcus, slipping a piece of folded-up receipt paper onto the table in front of you.

“For next time,” he says, a lopsided smile resplendent with dimples shining down on your dazed face. His hand brushes against the back of yours before he jaunts out to meet his friends, tossing a wink behind his back.

On the paper is his phone number, and a message:

I promise I'll be on time.

END

Join my Taglist!

[thewayofthemandalorian]

the long way around - chapter three

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!Reader Rating: M Word count: 2,564 Notes: This chapter features perhaps the one thing I want most for Marcus besides a happy ending - standing up for himself and saying his piece. Just the epilogue after this! Reblogs appreciated. Warnings: Mutual pining, fluff, food mention, mentions of self-doubt, swearing, kissing

previous chapter || next chapter || masterlist (main) || masterlist (marcus pike)

Weak sunlight streams in through the slats of the blinds, rousing you from sleep. If you had to hazard a guess, it’s probably early. Maybe about seven or so. It’s warm. A pair of strong arms are circled around you, holding you in a protective embrace. Your head is burrowed into a strong chest and it’s at that realization that you wake up in earnest.

Before panic can begin to take over, the answer to your question of where am I? is answered by memories of last night returning. His face is buried in your hair. You can smell his body wash. He’s so close. So warm. 

Last night’s events come back to you in bits and pieces as you readjust yourself as gingerly as possible in Marcus’s hold so as not to wake him. He looks so peaceful in sleep, more relaxed and calm than you’ve seen him. Teresa’s husband Patrick had figured it out as soon as they arrived. Had told you that Marcus loves you. Even though you had no reason to distrust the man, you have a hard time believing that. 

But the way he holds you now… You shake your head before reaching up with your hand to stroke the scruff of beard that Marcus has grown. Jane had said something last night about how Marcus “kept the beard.” You’ve only known Marcus with the beard. But you imagine he would be just as handsome clean-shaven

Marcus sighs, stirring from sleep and your heart catches in your chest for the long ten or twenty seconds that it takes for him to open his eyes and take in his surroundings. Your hand is now hovering above his cheek and you bring it back down to your hip. 

“Morning,” he rumbles, his chest rising and falling against your ear as he speaks the one word. Marcus blinks blearily at the sunlight coming in through the shut blinds, clearly remembering last night as well. 

It goes unspoken, what he said to you as you fell asleep. How Patrick was right about his feelings for you. Marcus knows that you were asleep, knows that he needs to tell you properly. But it’s early yet, and he doesn’t know how you’ll take it this early in the morning. So, instead, he pulls away from your hair, away from the scent of your shampoo and takes you in fully.

His arms stay where they are around your waist and he smiles. 

“What?” you mumble self-consciously. 

Marcus strokes your cheek and you pray that he doesn’t feel the sudden flush of heat flooding your face. “You have a mark from where your face was pressed against my face,” he says. 

“Oh,” you say. And then, “I fell asleep.”

Marcus nods. “We both did,” he says, not regretting it one bit. The hand that had stroked the indentation from where you slept against his chest drops to your shoulder. 

The warmth that had flooded your face was now spread to the rest of your body. Could you stay like this forever? 

Still, as nice as this is, you need to address the elephant in the room. “I’m sorry,” you say eventually. “For yelling at Teresa last night. For grilling her about why she was really here.” You pause and consider it for a minute. “Well, no, I’m not sorry.” You feel Marcus’s chuckle more than you hear it. “I just… wish I could have handled it a bit better.” 

Marcus says your name. “Hey. I’m not sorry, either. If it were me, I would have laid into her a lot more.” He trails off, sounding slightly regretful. “Thank you, though. For standing up for me.” 

“That’s what friends are for.” 

You feel Marcus stiffen for a split second before he relaxes again. “Friends. Right,” he says with a wry chuckle before relaxing again. 

Still, it feels as though it was the wrong thing to say. You push it away for the time being. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you sit up, taking Marcus with you. The large oversized marigold yellow throw blanket - a Christmas gift from you -  falls from your shoulders and pools in your laps. 

You haven’t noticed until now, not really, just how close Marcus is to you. Only inches away from you. You look up into his brown eyes, holding his gaze for a moment before…

His eyes drop their gaze to your lips. 

It wouldn’t take much to close the gap between you. Tentatively, you reach your hand up to his face again, cupping his cheek and stroking it with your thumb. He’s about to lean in and close the distance - his eyes are even shut in anticipation for God’s sake. Your lips are barely grazing each others’ when your stomach rumbles loudly, making your hunger known to both of you. 

An embarrassed smile creeps on to your lips, the moment between you interrupted. “I should probably get going, get something to eat,” you say, not even sure of what you look like right now. You don’t want to go, but you think you might have overstayed your welcome last night, regardless of what Marcus said. 

Marcus shakes his head. “No, I’ll take you out for breakfast. My treat for going along with that hair-brained idea of mine.”

----

Twenty minutes later finds you in the passenger’s seat of Marcus’s car. You’re wearing the same clothes that you were wearing last night paired with a sweater you borrowed from Marcus at his insistence (“it’s only 42 degrees, I’m not going to let you freeze”). Even though the sun is shining, it’s still a chilly day for October. 

Marcus cranks the heater to the highest setting and takes your hand in his free hand, the other one on the steering wheel. 

You can’t quite put your finger on it, but something’s changed in the last ten hours, the last couple of days really. 

He’d been about to kiss you on the couch, and you would have let him. You wonder if you should give more credence to Patrick’s theory from last night. Marcus’s thumb strokes over your hand, pulling you from your reverie and you wonder if he ever did this with Teresa, and then you wonder where this jealousy is coming from. 

Marcus notices your tension and unease. His brows furrow in concern. “Everything okay, sweetheart?” he asks, giving your hand a squeeze. You squeeze back and offer a tired smile. 

“Just thinking,” you reply. 

He grins. “I gathered. I can practically hear the gears turning in there from here.” You chuckle and Marcus is about to ask what’s on your mind when the restaurant comes into view. 

Expertly, Marcus parks the car and kills the engine. He still hasn’t let go of your hand. “C’mon, I’m starving.” 

Dropping each other’s hand, you unclick the seatbelt and before you can open the door, Marcus has already made his way around to your side of the car, opening the door for you. “Aren’t you the gentleman this morning,” you tease, stomach doing little flips as your mind flits back to what Patrick said last night. What you ever-so-vaguely remember Marcus saying as you drifted to sleep. 

“He’s right.” 

Maybe you hadn’t dreamt that after all. 

You shiver, partially from the chill of the cold morning air. But mostly from Marcus’s arm wrapping around your shoulder, walking in sync with you. Going along with him, you put your arm around his waist. 

Marcus wonders why you haven’t mentioned the discussion from last night. What he more or less confirmed. That he is in love with you, that it’s been you since the moment he first laid eyes on you in the theatre. He wishes that he had done things differently, that he had actually told you how he felt. But he was worried that you wouldn’t feel the same and he didn’t know if he could handle that again. Not after a broken marriage and a broken engagement, both of which were ended because of another man. 

You study his face. “You okay?” you ask, concern crossing your features. 

It’s Marcus’s turn to be pulled from his reverie. “Yeah, just lost in thought I guess.” 

“What a thoughtful pair we are,” you say, opening the door of the diner with your free hand. Marcus’s arm drops from your shoulder for a moment to allow you to step into the warmth of the restaurant.

For a Saturday morning, it’s pretty quiet; you must have missed the rush. While it isn’t quiet, it’s certainly not as busy as you had been expecting. 

The hostess greets you, smiling at the way you and Marcus are molded together. “The two of you are so cute. Breakfast date?” 

Marcus’s cheeks tinge red as he sputters a response that you don’t hear. As the hostess leads you to a booth, your eyes land on them.

Patrick and Teresa. And from the look of “oh, shit” on Teresa’s face when the two of you lock eyes unintentionally, she sees you and Marcus as well. She sees what you miss: the look of pure adoration on Marcus’s face as he looks at you. 

You pull your gaze away from Teresa as you settle into the booth. Marcus pulls his reading glasses from his coat pocket beside him. 

You smile at the sight. “What?” Marcus asks, glasses pushed up on his nose.

Shaking your head, you say, “Just you… old man.” 

It’s Marcus’s turn to shake his head as he flips open the menu. “No respect,” he mutters playfully as he sets his sights - predictably - on the pancake section.

The waitress is quick coming over, and before too long you’re sipping on coffee. Once again, your gaze lands on the Jane table. You wonder if Patrick let Teresa in on the truth of your relationship with Marcus. And then you notice that Teresa is trying not to stare at you and Marcus. 

“What are you looking at?” Marcus asks, following your gaze. “Oh,” he says when he sees what - or rather, who - has your attention. You hate the way his voice goes small.

The waitress returns and you order. Marcus orders the pancakes with blueberries and cream, you the breakfast special. Once the waitress bustles to the kitchen to put in your order, Marcus takes a fortifying sip of coffee and gets up, walking over to where Teresa and Jane are finishing up their meal. 

Teresa looks taken aback to see Marcus striding over, you on his tail.

“M-Marcus!” Teresa sputters, looking between you and Marcus. If she notices that you’re wearing yesterday’s clothes plus a sweater borrowed from Marcus, she doesn’t say.

Marcus doesn’t say anything for a long minute, clearly looking for the right words. “I need to say something that’s been on my chest for a while.”

Teresa nods, knowing better than to interrupt.

Marcus sighs before beginning. “You really hurt me, Teresa.” Without a word, you slip your hand into Marcus’s in consolation and support as he continues. “I spent the entire time we were together - and long after you broke things off - wondering what it was that I did wrong, what I wasn’t doing right to have your full attention.” He swallows. Teresa opens her mouth to say something but Marcus cuts her off. “I’m not finished,” he says assertively and Teresa promptly shuts her mouth as Marcus continues. “I picked up on it from the beginning that it was never me you wanted, but him. I didn’t realize it until you called me to end things, but it was pretty fuckin’ clear that your heart was elsewhere. And I’m happy that you found what you were looking for. But… would it have been so hard to let me know? Hell, just say you’re not sure if you want to be in a relationship, anything, so I wouldn’t have to waste my energy and time on someone who wasn’t all in like I was. I thought it was me.” Marcus inhales, presses on. “I was so unsure of myself for so long that I-I couldn’t ask anyone out. Until I met her. Which is when I realized that it was a good thing that we didn’t work. Because I love her.” 

You’re less stunned than you anticipated you would be if Marcus ever told you he loves you. “And - and I’m sorry, but I really can’t pretend like it’s okay for you and Patrick to waltz in here and act like we’re friends and that it’s totally okay that what you did made me miserable. I forgave you a long time ago, because I knew I couldn’t make you happy and, more importantly, you leaving me led me to the woman standing next to me, willing to do anything for me and to make sure I’m happy. And I’m happier than ever with her. I forgive you, but I don’t think we can be friends, Teresa. Not anytime soon.” 

Marcus looks back at you for a moment, trying to read your expression as Teresa processes what Marcus just said, finally having said his piece. You’re so proud of him for finally saying what’s been weighing him down like lead for so long. “I love you,” you whisper, completely unafraid of what his response is. You need to say it. 

“Marcus,” Teresa says, voice strained. “I’m sorry. Truly.” Patrick nods from his spot across from Teresa in agreement. 

Marcus nods. “Yeah. Thanks.” He clears his throat, looking and feeling lighter than he has in a long time. “Water under the bridge,” he says, and means it. Glancing at your empty table, he says to you, “We should get back before our food gets here.” To Patrick and Teresa, he says, “Good luck with the rest of your case.” Surprisingly, he reaches his open hand out to shake Patrick’s, showing no remaining animosity and after a second’s pause, leads you back to the table. 

----

Two seconds after you settle back into the booth, the waitress shows up with your orders. She smiles, seeing that Marcus has moved to sit beside you, his arm draped around your shoulders, yours around his middle. “Y’all are adorable,” she gushes as she sets down your plates. 

Marcus takes a bite of his food and groans in satisfaction. Some things never change. 

“Do you feel better?” you ask, once Marcus has eaten a few more bites. 

Chewing, Marcus nods. “Much better. It was everything I wanted to say for a long time.” He lets the words settle, and as you start on your scrambled eggs, he speaks again. “Everything.” 

You nod in understanding. “Marcus,” you start, “I’ve loved you for a while. Almost from the beginning. And I should have -” You cut yourself off remembering how afraid Marcus was to fall in love again, how unsure. So you amend, “I just want you to be happy.” 

He smiles at you, bright and full. “How coincidental. All I want is to make you happy.” 

You cup his cheek as he leans in and kisses you properly. You smile against his lips, Marcus smiling against your lips in response as you kiss him for the first real time, not caring at all who sees. 

“I love you,” you repeat in a hushed whisper once you break apart. 

Marcus strokes your cheek with his thumb. “I love you, too.” 

And he must, because he shares his pancakes with you.

-- taglist in reblog