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hearteyes-for-killmonger · 3 years

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Part 24: Appearance

Erik shuffled down the aisle of the train car, crutch nudged snuggly into his armpit and a suitcase half his size rolling behind with a heavy looking duffel. No one offered assistance and he didn't ask. As a black man, he could always count on that as a consistency. Crutches and all, he'd be viewed as overly capable. From a young age it was ingrained through experience.. all you have is yourself because no one out here will help you, a young black man. Time had proven it again and again. Injured, he could still handle more weight than the average man and it was because he pushed himself. He relied only on himself. Even hospitalized, he found ways to maintain his strength. Weakness and laziness was never an option, not even for recovery. With all his money, that was still something he couldn't afford. But they could.. the white couple on the left. He couldn't help but notice them sitting there.

A closer look told him they weren't actually a couple. The blonde girl's face screamed underage. Fifteen/sixteen. The heavy makeup she wore aged her. She looked high. Heroin, Erik guessed glancing subtly for track marks. She looked up and he glanced away to a Spanish speaking family with five kids including a crying baby. He bit his lip on his way to take his seat at the rear where he could see everyone. The man in front of him was on his way to sleep. Erik put in his earbuds and continued his watch.

As the hours passed, he noticed more and more. The kids had no home training. The parents had no sense of awareness considering they sat opposite a fifteen year old girl being held against her will. It could easily be one of their kids, with them not paying attention it wouldn't take much. The baby had the healthiest lungs of any baby he'd ever heard. That blonde girl was high as hell. She got up to use the bathroom on his side of the train and he kept his eyes down as she passed with her trafficker on her ass to make sure she ain't try nothing risky. Ain't none of my black ass business, Erik told himself. He hadn't signed up to save any little blonde girls. He kept his eyes down as they passed him again to return to their seats and she dropped a tiny earring on the floor next to his foot on purpose. Damn, he groaned dropping his head on the back of the seat. Why me? I just said I ain't wanna get involved in this shit.

Taking a deep sigh, he picked up the earring and did what made sense. He googled the train police department and texted in a report using his sub contact phone, the main phone. He gave a description of the couple and information regarding the train. You're welcome, he thought watching the back of the girl's head before settling back in his seat comfortably. Any other time he'd have ignored her, not that victims often reached out to him so clearly. Still, it was an unnecessary risk calling on police. What if they decided to search the train? The whole point of taking the train was to not be searched.

Y/N would be proud right now, his lip twisted in irritation. She'd become the true north of his moral compass. What would Y/N do in the situation? The thought made him nauseous. She wouldn't survive his lifestyle. He wouldn't survive it with her morals. This is dangerous. We are completely incompatible, but I still want you, he admitted to himself. It was more like need. Obsession even. There was a burning feeling in his gut. "This shit ain't healthy," he muttered.

-----

"Wow, may I..," Tanner's fingers hover in the air, his eyes on your fresh braids. Your eyebrows answer before you can and he lowers his hand with a smile. "Those braids are really something. Would it be offensive if I asked how they're attached?" He looks so fascinated. He's been staring and talking to the top of your head since he saw you this morning in the lobby and now he's staring just as hard from across the small booth table at Pho Station.

"You just buy braiding hair and braid it into your hair. That's literally it."

"Braiding hair.. what's that?" His head rests on his hand as his elbow sits on the table. He's so curious, staring dreamily.

"It's packs of hair you get at the store specifically for braided styles." You slurp in a spoonful of long noodles.

"Is it human hair?"

"Synthetic." It comes out muffled as you break off the noodles hanging from your mouth with a chopstick so you can swallow.

"Synthetic? What's the difference..," his blue eyes drift lazily down to your nearly black ones. "Well, I mean in how they look."

"Human hair is typically Malaysian or Brazillian, something like that. You can straighten or curl it because it's actual hair. Synthetic fibers can melt but it's inexpensive and can mimic hair textures well."

"Well it's beautiful," he nods. "I've always wondered about it. Does it hurt?"

"Mm-mm," you grumble slurping the broth of your chicken pho. "No these are knotless and they don't hurt." That confuses him so you get into the difference between regular box braids and knotless. "You can't even sleep when you first get regular box braids because it's so tight that's why I don't wear them."

"Yes.. don't wear them if they hurt. Don't wanna pull out all that beautiful hair.." His eyes hold a familiar twinkle. The way he stares.. it reminds you of Erik. You don't wanna think about the meaning of it.

"Damn right.. Hey your pho's gonna get cold."

"Oh," his brows raise in faux offense. He picks up his soup spoon looking away for the first time. It's about time. "Well these.. knotless braids," he gestures with the spoon, "They look amazing on you," he smirks. "But you're already gorgeous, you know that."

"This from a Gene Kelly/James Dean lookalike. You look like you belong in a Marvel movie. That dark hair.. chiseled jaw? And who do you get those eyes from?"

"My grandma. My mom's eyes are carmel brown and so are my sister's. My father's are a darker brown."

"Punnet square kicked in hard."

"So tell me where your features come from," his eyes twinkle, hands folded under his strong chin. Your heart nearly skips a beat. It took a while for you to admit it to yourself because you'd have to admit you were lowkey using him.. but you knew what he was doing and how he felt from the start. That look was infatuation.

Opening doors, calling on me, paying for lunch every time, bringing me coffee? It's a lot.. Well that's because he likes me.. No It could be friendly, doesn't mean he likes me.

Almost everyday you told yourself the same thing.

I don't want him as anything more than a friend, maybe a work husband now that I know he's a cool lil white boy. I think he knows that..

Not when you flirt back he doesn't know that..

But is it really flirting or being nice? Besides I think he might feel the same.

A look into his eyes slams that possibility.

Who am I kidding. Maybe it's wrong to let him pay. Is that selfish?..

Girl, you're not dumb you know exactly what you're doing..

No, but really, I enjoy his company. I look forward to our little lunch outings as much as he does..

Then pay for yourself!..

I KNOW, but I don't.. want to...

Blinking, you sigh clearing your guilty conscience. "I look exactly like my dad but my personality is my mom."

"Oh really. That's where you get those adorably chubby cheeks from? Your dad? Interesting family photos I bet."

"Believe it or not that's also where I get this tummy and all this ass from," I say straight faced watching his cheeks sink in. On that note, he buries himself in his pho and I watch him hold himself together, the both of us laughing on the inside.

"You're ridiculous," he smiles down at his bowl. "What will I ever do with you.."

"Hopefully keep feeding me."

"Of course, Barb told me about a BBQ place about fifteen minutes from here. How about tomorrow?"

"Then I can show you pictures of my bootylicious father," you stare watching him collect himself again.

"Wow," he chokes on his broth. "Or we can look at yours, completely up to you."

-----

Never had it felt so good to be coming or going. Erik wheeled his bags through the station coolly, but internally he was leaping for joy like a little kid. After touching down in every continent through the military as a soldier and then a mercenary soldier, he was used to traveling. New locations, customs, and languages were the norm. War, battle, and toppling small countries for their resources and political control was the norm. It wasn't right, but it made big money and when his service ended, he retired. However, that didn't change the fact that he was still a multilingual and adaptable war weapon with no other real skill or interest other than killing. He was good at it so he made it a business. A consultant was what he called himself. Gameplay and development was the front.

Life as an assassin made him his own boss. He could kill and go off the map at will. He'd travel as far as it took to complete the task and take cash or cryptocurrency which he'd translate into several offshore accounts before his domestic ones. He'd usually buy a throwaway car, restock his ammo, spend time sunbathing on a yacht in the Maldives, hunker down in a city where he blended in and then isolate for a month wallowing in a small room before his next kill. Sightseeing wasn't on his agenda. He'd been all over the world and seen the worst of human nature. Texas had been a first as far as experiencing the high points anywhere. He'd enjoyed his stay with a woman and they'd gone on dates, real dates. He'd gone to an amusement park of all places and taken her around the city. It was magical though he'd almost been killed for it. Texas.. Not Cartagena or Havana or Jaipur but country ass Texas. Now here he was finally back in Cali. Nothing came close to the joy of having someone waiting for him. Someone who'd be overjoyed to see him. His job was done, his leg was healing up nicely, no one was after him because he'd left no one alive that could easily identify him. He was on his way home.

Home, he smiled somewhat bitterly. More like playing house.. Ain't none of this shit real and eventually it will end, probably in disaster.

Still.. He couldn't drop the facade for it was filling a hole within him that he hadn't realized until recently could be filled. He had latent desires. Playing house with her was the closest to a home he'd ever get.

-----

Erik's car takes premium gas and you wonder about his bills. Is he paying them? 'Cause you're not. He'd better have it worked out because once the lights go out in this isolated grand establishment, you're gone. You've gotten too used to walking around with every bright light in the house on at night. Walking through the bathroom butt naked you light the very last of his pricey looking black label white candles having burned through the rest of his supply. This one's Leather scented, not the best but not bad. That's why it was last. Locking the bathroom door out of habit, you run the shower and enjoy the luxurious spa room you've become accustomed to. The water pressure still hits. The warm thick white towels are fresh from the dryer. Your body is hairless from shaving and you've just purchased a new body oil to try that Ava swears by. Though you're only going to bed, you can't resist it. It smells like like fresh baked cookies from the oven and makes your skin radiate golden. It's perfect for a pool party or the beach.. whenever you end up going again which may be a while. Taking a few suggestive shiny body selfies in the towel, you decide to go ahead and send them to Erik though he doesn't deserve them. Someone has to see your glass skin. You hadn't spoken to him in the last two days as he'd been "busy". Doing what, you had no clue. It felt like bullshit. All of it. It was maddening to the point that you didn't want to care anymore, whether he returned or stayed. He'd been gone too long. Waaay too long. His reasons for wanting you out of Texas were beginning to feel like lies.

There's probably a huge harem of harlot whores he's entertaining and he doesn't want me to know he lied about only having three submissives, the asshole. He's probably in some twisted unsanitary orgy in a dark and questionable dungeon drinking glowing lime jello shooters and getting blackout drunk right now.. Probably whipping some poor girl with one of those long cowboy whips. God knows what he does with his other subs. If he was that dirty with Lil Bitch's morally debased ass and that was in front of me...

Every now and again the thought would cross your mind. Fuck him, you thought. Stay gone. I'll keep living here alone in the lap of luxury.

Never before had you been in a hot tub so often. It did wonders for a post work unwind with a smoothie or herbal tea in hand. You didn't need him when you had wifi, cable, powerful A/C, and a full fridge. He could stay with whoever he was with.

But what if he doesn't come back, your mind wonders darkly. What if he stays in Texas and never comes back?

Suddenly the house seems a lot chillier and unwelcoming.. Empty even. Too quiet. Hugging yourself for comfort you wander through the house and turn each of the lights off one by one to get an idea once more just how dark it gets. Too dark. Pitch black. You can't even see a hand in front of your face and panic sets in along with a strong inner body chill. This isn't something you can do and if Erik never comes back...

Honestly you've never seriously considered that possibility. The thought brings a loneliness that echoes the depth of darkness, both equally terrifying. The fact is that you do care.. profoundly to the point that his continued absence really bothers you. He has already become an indestructible pillar in your everyday life. Going days without so much as a hello feels like a week and that doesn't do much good for your anxiety.

Flipping each of the lights back on, you settle into Erik's bed this time around and stare at the time until you doze off. When you open your eyes there's natural light coming in through the window and you take a grateful breath before sitting up in the bed.

"Good morning," a chilling voice interjects and you nearly have a heart attack, unable to scream in the face of Flu sitting on the edge of the bed watching you. You want to run, scream, fight, anything but your body which is frozen in absolute fear and shock will not move. He smiles and you dart upright in bed sweating cold bullets and panting. Outside is still dark. According to the clock you've been sleep three and a half hours. It's 3:30 AM. Taking a deep breath to calm your breathing you look around the room comforting yourself with the mantra "It's just a dream. You're okay. You're okay. There's nothing to worry about. You've been safe and you're still safe. You're completely safe." A few minutes of repeating it and looking around, listening closely to the air has you relaxed enough to fall back asleep especially since your eyes are crossing up. When your eyes open again you check the clock. It's been almost another hour but you keep waking up.

Hold up. Didn't I have the light on?

Thinking back, your half sleep mind isn't completely sure but you know you sleep with the lights on. Nervous to move, your wide eyes search the pitch blackness before you and when you get the courage to move, you turn over bracing yourself to see Flu sitting there beside you on the bed. Nothing's there or out of the ordinary.

Did the lights go out? Did it blow? I think I had it on...

It's not getting up to explore. That's how people fir in movies. Instead, you bury your head in the covers like a small child and slip back into sleep. Or at least almost. Before you can cover your eyes with the blanket, you hear something that sounds like a slight vibration. That would be normal.. if your phone wasn't all the way downstairs.

A hand clamps over your mouth and as you feel a body quickly cover yours you grab at the darkness in attempt to gouge, scratch, and scrape whatever you can reach. When you pull locs, your brain registers and you yank them hard to get a noise.

"AHH," he whisper screams.

"ERIK WHAT THE FUCK?!" This time your lungs are free and healthy because you yell directly in his ear, slapping at him. "YOU ALMOST GAVE ME A HEART ATTACK." Breathless, you try to catch it, still swinging. "Why would you do that! What the fuck is wrong with you!"

"I wanted to surprise you," he grips your hands. "I didn't think you'd try to rip my damn hair out! And why your nails so sharp!"

"Are you mentally deficient? In what world did that seem like a good idea to you?!"

"Catch your breath," he says quietly.

Getting up he flips the lights and sits on the bed beside you. You haven't seen him in what feels like ages. "You still having nightmares." It's not a question as he looks in your tired eyes.

"Not often, just a couple of times since I've been on my own here." You didn't really have them when you two were together. He nods understanding your meaning. You hadn't mentioned it on the phone or through text. What could he have done about it anyway? There's a moment of silence as he rests his hand over your blanketed leg.

"I'm sorry for being away so long..," he says quietly. "I mean it. I'm sorry for scaring you.. I honestly didn't consider the nightmares because when we were together you didn't have them. I promise you, you are safe. He can't hurt you. There are many things in this world that can, but I promise he's not one.. and as long as I'm here I won't let anyone touch you. I will protect you with my life."

"That's good and all," you sigh, half listening and half asleep already. "But can you just.. stay here with me until I fall asleep."

"You in my bed," he smiles climbing fully dressed under the blanket to scoop you into his arms. Instantly your body clings to his and his shirt becomes your new pillow. You feel the quick sensation of his lips on your temple. "Did you miss me," he whispers. You mean to respond, but instead you fade out asleep.

-----

As soon as he'd slipped into the bed, she was knocked, sleeping soundly and breathing loud. He stroked her braids, her arm, and her back gently but firmly the way he always had when she needed help to relax.

"I missed you," he whispered into her forehead. She responded with a small fart and his nose crinkled. He didn't smell it which meant it was trapped under the blanket. She did it once more just then but it was louder. She'd be horrified if she were awake. "Y/N," he groaned hoping he wouldn't smell it. He didn't dare move though. He only sighed and continued rubbing her back. "Stink," he nicknamed her on the spot. "My lil stink stink," his stomach jumped in humor thinking of her reaction in the morning. He wanted to see the expression on her face when he called her that and when she heard the explanation of why. It made his chest shake. He tried to control it so not to wake her. She was sleeping too good for him to even get up and take his outside clothes off and they were hot to sleep in. He wanted to get comfortable.

That's okay, he decided as he settled in to fall asleep exactly where he was, under her. It took some effort to get comfortable in that position but in that moment there was no other place he'd have rather been.

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blackmissfrizzle · 4 years

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Worth It (The Prelude)

Worth It- Pt 1

Summary: The reader meets Marcel for the first time. This a prelude for the Worth It series.

Characters: Marcel x black!reader

A/N: I couldn’t get out of my head how the reader and Marcel first met, so I just had to write it. I think I love this series the most. I love writing for Marcel and I’ happy y’all are enjoying it too. I already got ideas for Part 3 so hopefully it’ll come out this week.

“Baby girl, you bet not be doing any magic in that shop of yours. Just sell your herbs and elixirs and go on about your day.” Your dad warned you for the fifth time today.

When you returned home yesterday, you learned that Marcel had forbidden the witches from doing any magic or there would be deadly consequences. Poor Ophelia didn’t believe him, and she paid for it with her life. Ever since then, the witches have been scared.

Hence, your parents nagging you about not using your powers. Naturally, you had a rebellious spirit and they knew that you would have no problem testing Marcel.

“Daddy, I promise.” You lied through your teeth. It may not be today, tomorrow, or anytime soon, but you knew eventually you’ll give into using your powers.

Before grabbing your keys, you kissed your mom and dad goodbye. “Be careful and no magic!” You heard right before the doors closed on them.

—

“Oh wee, chile, I swear you’re a miracle worker,” Mrs. Jackson smiled as she wriggled her fingers around.

Laughing at the older woman, you handed her the mix of thunder god vine and eucalyptus. “No ma’am, I’m not. I just know what to mix to help that arthritis of yours.”

She hugged you and rocked you back and forth. “Either way, I don’t feel any pain and can move my fingers.” Mrs. Jackson checked her watch and quickly let go of you. “Oh, look at the time. I gotta go. Paula’s bringing my grandbaby over. Take care of yourself Y/N.”

“I will and remember apply the ointment twice a day!” You called out to her before she was out the door.

After, Mrs. Jackson you had a steady flow of customers until towards the end of the day. It was so slow you decided to close the shop early and head to Rousseau’s to have a drink with your sister. However, your new set of customers thwarted your plans.

“Took you long enough to show up,” you told Marcel and his gang.

“You were getting busy. Didn’t want the tourists to see all the commotion.”

Clasping your hands together and bashing your eyelashes, you replied with faux gratefulness, “Oh my god, how sweet.”

He smiled at your sarcasm, revealing a blinding smile. It was the type of smile that made girls swoon and weak in the knees. Too bad he was dick.

“You’re funny, but that’s not going to save you. I’m sure that the other witches told you that there is absolutely no magic to be done.”

Walking to where he was, you slapped his hand away from touching your herbs. His friends were about to attack you, but he held up his hand to stop them. “I know and I really don’t care about your stupid ass rules. If someone is in need, I’m helping them.”

Marcel looked at you curiously. Most of the witches he knows are only out for themselves and their coven. “So, who was worth your life?”

“Mrs. Jackson. She’s a seamstress and her granddaughter is deaf, so she uses ASL to communicate with her. But unfortunately, for Mrs. Jackson she’s has really bad arthritis, so I give her an ointment, but the pain relief spell helps a lot too; she doesn’t have to come here as often if I perform the spell. So, if you’re gonna kill me because I helped a sweet old lady keep her livelihood and talk to her only grandchild so be it. You’re the one that’ll have to live with that on your conscious, not me.” You knelt down before him to make the job easier for him. The other witches may live a life with fear, but you weren’t.

Looking at his friends, he wordlessly told them to leave your shop and they reluctantly obeyed. Diego and Thierry didn’t trust witches at all, and they didn’t want to leave Marcel alone with you, but they had no choice. Once his friends left, Marcel knelt down in front of you and lifted your chin, so your eyes could meet his brown ones. “You’re telling me that you cast a spell on a woman that makes her come to your shop less often. Doesn’t that make you lose money?”

“Its not about the money. Its about helping the people of New Orleans, specifically the brown ones. I can’t cure cancer, but I can lessen the pain and that’s more than our government is doing. Its more than you’re doing. You call yourself King of the Quarter, but who are you helping specifically? The vampires? Because last time I checked there’s more humans than vamps.” Self-preservation obviously wasn’t an attribute you had to be speaking to Marcel like this. Easily he could wrap his hands or sink his fangs into your neck, sucking the life out of you.

“Have dinner with me.” Marcel offered you. It’d been so long, since he’s been genuinely intrigued by a woman. Yeah, he’s slept with other women, but this was the first time in a long time he wanted to get to know a woman. If he wanted to be honest with himself, he knew he wanted to know more about you as soon as he laid his eyes on you. Even though, you greeted him with an attitude he knew there was a kind spirit in you.

Marcel was staring you down and it was beginning to be too much. His gaze was stirring things up that shouldn’t be stirred up at all. He was a vampire, you’re a witch, there should be no attraction at all, but damn it he had you interested.

To a degree you knew Marcel was good. He saved Davina Claire from being sacrificed during that Harvest Festival, which your momma called a bunch of nonsense and that’s why she don’t fool with those white witches. “They always wanna sacrifice somebody. Unless it’s the good Lord telling me to, which he ain’t done since Abraham, I ain’t killing nobody,” she would always say.

You took a good look at Marcel to assess if he had any ill-intentions towards you. He seemed that he didn’t, but you had to make sure. “Like eat dinner with you or be dinner for you?”

He laughed at you, big time. Your inflection, the look on your face, and body movements were hilarious. Marcel knew for sure he had to get to know you.

“Nigga, I’m serious! I know I look like a snack and all, but that’s not the way I prefer to be eaten.”

Marcel tongue darted out across his lips, which made you zero in on them. They were so damn kissable, that you had to stop yourself from leaning in once Marcel began talking again. “No, we’ll eat a dinner and I much rather have you for dessert anyway.” He said suggestively, licking his lips again.

Lips were moving, but no words were coming out. You must’ve looked like an idiot, but Marcel didn’t think so. He thought you were adorable being struck speechless for the first time during this encounter.

Lifting you to your feet, Marcel got within a tenth of a inch of your ear and whispered, “I‘ll pick you up at 8,” and just like that he left leaving you stunned.

Quickly, you pulled out your phone to text your sister.

YOU: Change of plans. Meet me at my house. I have a date!

—

Bianca stood in front you, working here magic on your face. She was the best makeup artist in the state, and you got all her services for free and you earned it too; you were always her test subject.

“And he ain’t even ask you? Just told you what time he’ll pick you up without asking where you live.” She asked, waving the powder brush. In response, you shook your head yes and she kept going. “Whew, that’s some big dick energy!”

“I know, right?! If he hadn’t zoomed off, I probably would’ve given him the panties right then and there.” It was true. Marcel had a hold on you and you were sure you’d lose all common sense around him.

“I heard sex with a vamp is top tier. I’ve been trying to get at Diego, but he ain’t having it.” Bianca’s had a crush on Diego as long as he’s been in New Orleans and at first he was interested until he found out she was a witch.

“He’s just scared that’s all. Maybe he’ll come around.”

Bianca was applying the finishing touches when she went on a rant. “That’s what I told that nappy-headed ass nigga! I told him stop being scary because the only thing that’s gonna put a spell on him is this pussy!” She stuck her tongue out like her idol, Cardi B and you joined in with her laughter.

“Oh, look at my big sis, looking all fine.” Turning you around to face the mirror, Bianca revealed her handiwork. She kept your face to a light beat, going for the natural look, highlighting your best features.

Shooting out of your seat, you hugged her thanking her profusely. “Girl, ain’t no problem. You know it ain’t hard to make you look beautiful. Now turn Marcel back to the dark side.” You furrowed your eyebrows at her, you had no idea what she was talking about. She leaned into you and whispered like you weren’t in the privacy of your home. “He’s known for dating white girls. Rumor has it he dated Rebekah Mikaelson back in the day.”

The knock on the door stopped you from asking anymore questions. Damn a nigga for being on time.

On the other side of the door, stood a delicious looking Marcel Gerard with a bouquet of Swamp Azaleas. “I heard these are your favorites,” he handed you the flowers, but Bianca took them instead.

“They are. Now, don’t have her back until the sun is up. Good night!” She pushed you out the door so hard that you stumbled into Marcel’s embrace and god did he smell good and felt even better.

Feeling like you were overstaying your welcome in his arms, you tried to pull away, but he pulled you back. “No, I like how you feel in my arms.” For a while, Marcel just held you until you reminded him you would like to go on the date and for the first time you noticed a nervous smile from him. “Sorry, I just get caught up in you,” he stated, before he escorted you down to his car.

Thank god, Marcel didn’t take you to an overpriced date. He could tell that you enjoyed the simpler things in life and took you to a local restaurant. It required you to dress nicely, but not like if you were dining at a Michelin star restaurant.

The conversation never got dull and he never got insulted by the jokes you cracked about him unlike some of your previous dates. What you truly bonded over was your love for New Orleans. There was no place like NOLA and even if you visited other cities, states, and countries, New Orleans would always be your number one love. It was the same way for Marcel.

The only thing you disagreed on was how to run the city, but it wasn’t a disrespectful debate. He even challenged your thoughts by bringing up that you weren’t heavily involved with the coven, so why fight for them so hard. The man was good, but you couldn’t let him know that.

Dinner was coming to an end and you couldn’t help but think about what Bianca said about Marcel dating white women. You knew she didn’t mean it as malicious, but it was causing doubts in your head. If it was true, then you were shit out of luck because you were far from his usual dates.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” His voice pulled you from your thoughts.

“Nothing. What makes you say that?”

“Your eyes.” He pointed to your irises, holding out his forkful of dessert for you to taste. The mix of warm, gooey brownies with ice cream, whipped cream, walnuts, and chocolate syrup had you moaning and rocking back and forth in happiness. “That right there is what I’m talking about. Your eyes are so expressive you can’t hide what you’re feeling. That’s why I knew you would go on a date with me, you felt the same attraction I did. So, I’ll ask one more time, what’s going on in that head of yours.” This time you could tell by his tone that a nothing wouldn’t suffice.

“Do you typically date black girls?” The words were so jumbled together that Marcel almost didn’t catch the question.

A slow smile crept on his face once it did register and he gripped your hand and rubbed small circles into it. “Thinking back on it, my more recent partners have been white, but don’t let it get twisted, I will always love black women.”

Satisfied with his answer, you let the topic go. Easily, y’all finished dessert and then went out to walk down Bourbon street. Marcel let you pulled him into dancing when you heard the familiar sounds of Zydeco. He kept up even when they switched up to bounce music and you began twerking on him.

Unfortunately, the night had to come to the end. Marcel walked you back to your front door and you both just stood there not wanting to end the date. “Want to come inside?”

“I can’t,” he replied. Your mood immediately saddens at the rejection and you turned the doorknob to go inside, but Marcel closed it. “You and these damn eyes,” he murmured. “Its not that I don’t want to come inside. Its that you have work in the morning and we both know if I come inside, you won’t get any sleep.”

“Oh,” you deeply sighed at his explanation. Now you had to try to get him inside somehow.

“Its not happening, so get those dirty thoughts out of your mind.” He smirked at you, loving how emotive you were. “But if you let me, I can kiss you.”

Eagerly, you shook your head yes and he chuckled at you. Marcel grabbed the back of your neck, bringing you closer. His eyes flickered from your lips to your eyes repeatedly, just making the tension that much more intense. He finally descended his lips onto yours, releasing you from that torture and bringing you into bliss. His lips were softer than you imagined, his beard tickled your face, but you loved it.

Remembering that you needed to breath, Marcel reluctantly pulled away with a small bite to your bottom lip. Your eyes fluttered opened and there was no denying the lust in them. Marcel leaned his forehead against yours and whispered into your ear, “You’re going to ruin me.”

You weren’t sure if he was talking to himself or you, but you responded either way. “I’ll be worth it,” and you went inside leaving both you and Marcel frustrated.

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