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tumbleweed-writes · 25 days

Note

From your smut prompt list....how about #1 and #44 for my favorite scotsman Chibs?

Belonging.

I have zero idea how this got so filthy. I would apologize for the filth, but it's smut. What'd ya expect???

18+ Only obviously.

Chibs pushes Y/N away in a poorly thought out attempt to protect her . Y/N decides to go on a date with a rebound to mend her broken heart and Chibs is left trying to remind Y/N that they belong with one another.

========

This date was a terrible idea. In fact, it might be the worst idea she’d ever had in her entire life. The thought danced through her head as she studied herself in the floor length mirror in her bedroom. A voice in the back of her head exclaimed that the polite and handsome rookie cop who’d asked her on a date was not quite worthy of the pretty little floral dress she’d chosen to wear.

The white knee length dress was adorned with red roses and the sweetheart neckline gave a perfect view of her cleavage. The red heels she’d worn with it made her legs look so appealing. She’d spent far too long curling her hair and picking out a perfect shade of red lipstick to match the roses on her dress.

The dress had been bought with a much different man in mind. Her heart ached as it reminded her that this man was clearly no longer worthy of this dress.

When she met Filip Chibs Telford she should have been wise enough to know he would break her heart.

She had been new in town opening a bakery not far from Floyd’s Barbershop on main street. She’d used what little inheritance she’d received from her grandfather to follow her dreams and open a bakery. She’d taken a huge risk having left her safe and stable job to follow her passions and open her own business. She’d been praying the risk would pay off.

She’d chosen to move from San Francisco out to Charming, California. She’d been charmed by the name, no pun intended, and the small town atmosphere. It felt like the perfect place to follow her dreams.

One of her very first customers had been one Gemma Teller Morrow.

The intimidating looking Queen of SAMCRO had been looking for a birthday cake for her grandson and had been impressed with Y/N’s work.

Y/N had been nervous but delighted to have her first big client and she’d thrown herself into making the Harley Davidson themed cake for the toddler.

The men who had been sent to pick up said cake had not been what she’d been expecting. The Scotsman in particular had caught her attention; the accent quite uncommon in the middle of northern California.

She’d been unaware that she had caught his attention as well.

At the time of their first meeting she’d been a bit distracted by Bobby Munson who’d been talking to her about the secret to a perfect muffin. She’d not noticed the Scottish Son admiring her during the discussion she’d been having with Bobby over preferred leavening agents and the perfect ratio of fruit to batter in blueberry muffins.

Bobby had become a frequent visitor to her bakery after the birthday cake job, and much to her shock the Scotsman had joined him more often than not.

The very first conversation Chibs and she had ever had one on one had been over shortbread, in particular his praise for her shortbread. She’d taken it as a genuine compliment when he’d admitted that her Scottish shortbread was the best he’d had stateside.

A friendship had formed between Chibs and she, although she knew to outsiders it might appear to be a strange friendship; the scary looking forty something year old outlaw biker being so buddy buddy with the young sweet looking baker. It was an odd mix; leather and whiskey with floral dresses and cupcakes.

The change in their friendship had come unexpectedly. She’d had some trouble with a local developer who’d been visiting Charming; the man had begun attempting to intimidate Y/N into backing out of her lease. He’d been quite pushy with a few of the businesses on main street.

He had intentions of building some upscale condos and high end retail on the street. He thought Charming would be a perfect getaway for yuppies looking to escape the big city.

Apparently the landlord who owned this particular strip of buildings on main street was not interested in selling the property. He’d figured he had a pretty good deal going with the businesses operating there as most had been there for decades.

So the developer had taken to attempting to get the business owners who were renting the shop spaces to back out of their lease.

His attempts to get Y/N to give up her retail space had been friendly at first, until it had become clear that she was not interested in moving from her place of business no matter how much money he was willing to throw at her.

He’d gotten quite demanding and it had become full on harassment.

SAMCRO didn’t take kindly to the developer taking an interest in Charming’s real estate if it meant bringing in outsiders to the safe haven that was Charming, and Chibs had not taken kindly to the man attempting to intimidate the pretty young baker who he’d taken such a liking to.

SAMCRO had been willing to come to her defense and Chibs had seemed to take quite the pleasure in scaring off the developer.

Y/N’s intention to thank the guys with baked goods, and Chibs with his own batch of Scottish Shortbread, had been started with innocent intentions.

The guys had appreciated the muffins she’d baked them as well as the cake. Chibs had appreciated the shortbread…but somehow her thank you to him had gotten a little out of hand.

One second he’d been standing in her shop accepting the box of shortbread and the next minute her lips had been pressed to his; his hands caressing her body.

She was grateful that the bakery had been closed and it had been late enough at night because Chibs had wound up taking her back to the kitchen and one thing had led to another. She was sure the health department would shut her down if they’d ever known just what she allowed Chibs to do to her, bending her over the counter, and what they’d done on the floor.

They’d laid side by side nude on the kitchen floor both out of breath staring up at the ceiling when the words had left him. “I think it kinda goes without sayin that I like ye a lot.”

The giggle that had left her made a smile cross his features, the smile only growing as she spoke in response. “Good, I like you a lot too.”

Things had been good; they’d been happy.

Then things had changed. Jax Teller had taken the gavel becoming club pres and Chibs had become his SGT At Arms.

With the new title came some unexpected distance between Chibs and she. Y/N had figured at first that perhaps Chibs had just been busy given all the changes in the club, but then weeks had gone by and then before she knew it a month had gone by and she barely heard from him.

She’d made several attempts to reconnect with him and find the spark they seemed to have lost; but he’d just seemed to brush off her attempts. She’d called and paid visits to TM Auto…she’d even visited the clubhouse and his apartment, but he’d seemed so eager to push her away.

The last interaction they’d had told her all she needed to know.

They’d been standing in his dorm room at the clubhouse after she’d paid a visit practically begging him to just give her a moment of his time.

She could remember the words that she’d said to him. “Lately, I just feel like maybe you don’t love me as much as I love you. I just feel so…neglected. I know you’re busy, but I’d like to at least feel like you still have a moment for me in your life. Lately, it feels like I have to fight tooth and nail to get you to glance my way. I know there’s been a lot of changes for you in the club, and I’m trying to be supportive…I am trying so hard to meet you halfway, but it feels like I’m the only one trying. I feel like I’m fighting so hard for us. I’m so tired of fighting, Filip…I can’t be the only one fighting for us.”

The words she’d gotten in response had felt like a knife to the chest. “Maybe it aint worth fightin fer.”

“I love you, how is that not worth fighting for?” She questioned not above pleading with him. This just seemed to be coming out of left field. She didn’t understand how he could claim that they weren’t worth fighting for.

He’d always made her feel so loved and adored. She felt so connected to him. He made her feel so wonderful. How had he changed so quickly without even a moment's notice?

The response she got cut her all the more deeply. “Jus leave me alone, Y/N.”

He paused the next words that left him sounding uncharacteristically cruel. “It was fun while it lasted, aye? Ye were a good fuck. We got each other off and it was all good n’ well. Shite is getting too deep between us lately; too personal. It’s gettin a wee bit pathetic on yer half. Yer clingy and desperate. Like I said, shite is pathetic. I can’t do commitment, Lass. I ain't the type to give ye the white wedding and white picket fence. We’re two different people from two very different worlds. We should own up to the fact that our paths ain’t goin to align. Ye shoulda known from the start what this shite was between us. This was never anythin serious fer me. I don’t love ye.”

Those words had shattered her heart; she only managed to step back from him as though he’d slapped her. She spoke, her words harsh, tears flooding her vision. “I wish I had never met you.”

With that she’d turned away and fled from his room and his life.

She’d allowed herself time to cry and have the biggest pity party known to man. Then she’d done her very best to put on a brave face and carry on with her life without Chibs Telford. She had returned to work and pasted a smile on her face. She’d thrown herself into her work. She had ignored the looks of pity that had been sent her way as Bobby and a few brave members of SAMCRO had dared to still come to her shop for baked goods.

She’d not seen neither hide nor hair of Chibs Telford though, and even though her heart might claim differently, her head insisted that it was just as well for her.

Even if her heart screamed that it was a lie; she swore that she never cared to see Filip Chibs Telford ever again as long as she lived and breathed.

When a handsome young rookie cop had stepped into her shop with his little sister in tow looking to buy a treat for the girl; Y/N had been flattered by his obvious flirtation. She hated to admit it was cute. Guys who were good with kids were appealing.

Though she didn’t quite get the same weak kneed putty feeling she got when Chibs flirted with her; she’d forced herself to flirt back with the young officer.

When he’d come back a week ago and asked her out for dinner, she’d said yes despite her heart screaming at her that she was not ready.

That was how she wound up sitting at an Italian restaurant on main street with her date. The restaurant was nice; romantic and cozy. The candlelight failed to invoke romantic notions in Y/N though as she stared at her date.

Seth; his name was Seth.

He was sweet, intelligent, handsome, and funny. He was kind and seemed as though he was passionate about his work. He had brought her a bouquet of roses and complemented her outfit. He’d held the car door open for her. He’d hung on every word she’d said tonight. He didn’t do a thing for her though.

There was no spark there at all. He didn’t make her heart skip a beat. He didn’t make her feel that stir of lust deep within her. He didn’t make butterflies fill her belly. He didn’t make her feel like a nervous schoolgirl.

She found herself comparing him to a certain Scotsman. He had a nice smile but his smile was missing the dimples she adored in Chibs. He had a charm to him; but it was not the same charm Chibs Telford had mastered. He was handsome and young, but Chibs was handsome in his own right and she was fond of the gray along his temples. Seth had a slow California accent but it was nothing like Chibs’ thick Scottish brogue. Seth was brave due to his career, but she didn’t feel the same sense of protection she felt around Chibs. He was funny, but he failed to make her laugh as hard as Chibs though. He was sexually appealing, but she didn’t find herself picturing what he might be like in bed. A voice in the back of her head exclaimed that he could not please her the way Chibs had done.

Chibs Telford had ruined her for other men, and she despised him for it.

It felt hopeless. She hated that she was on a date with a nice and socially acceptable man and all she could think about was the socially unacceptable man who had been awful to her the last time they’d spoken. How was she this pathetic?

She loved a man who did not want nor love her. She could not think of anything more pitiful.

She frowned as Seth spoke a frown crossing his features. “What do you think?”

“About?” She dared to ask hoping it was not so obvious she’d not been paying attention to a word he’d said thus far. She had no idea what they were even talking about.

“The sushi place they’re putting in? It’s going in out near that coffee shop by Jones Appliance Repair. Everyone’s been talking about it.” Seth explained the frown deepening he most likely picking up on the fact that she’d not been paying attention to him nor the conversation he’d been attempting to carry along with her.

“Oh, uh, I’d be curious to try it out.” She remarked her cheeks flushing ever so slightly mortified it was obvious she was not able to focus on this date at all.

Seth scrunched his nose up at the response he fast to reply. “Oh, I don’t think I’d be brave enough to try it. Eating raw fish just seems kind of unsanitary. I don’t know…seems like it might make you sick. I mean you really aren't supposed to eat raw meat, ya know?.”

She bit the inside of her cheek, tempted to snap that people ate sushi all the time and fared just fine. She pushed back the comment ignoring the voice in the back of her head that claimed Chibs would endure trying it with her even if he felt wary of it. He would try it if he thought it would make her happy.

She hated the thought, reminding herself that Chibs cared very little about what made her happy. If he cared about her happiness, he would not have broken her heart.

He didn’t love her. He’d said the words himself. Nothing between them had been serious according to him. He did not want her.

“Are you okay? You seem miles away.” Seth observed she cringing at the statement.

She sighed, deciding to just be honest with him. He seemed like a nice enough guy and she felt guilty that she was unable to really commit to this date. She was using him as a rebound and she felt awful for using him in such a way. She felt like an awful person. Didn’t hurt people hurt people though? “I just got out of a relationship…he broke up with me and I guess, I’m still kind of heartbroken over it. I found out he wasn’t taking it as seriously as I was…or at least that’s what he said. I guess I'm still in love with him…which sucks, because he doesn’t love me. You’re a nice guy, but my head and heart are kind of a mess right now. Rejection stings, and my heart just feels so heavy lately. I guess, I’m just not entirely ready for any of this…I thought this date would be a good idea, but I’m just not ready.”

Seth nodded his head, reaching down to toy with the polished fork on the table. “Your ex is that Scottish guy, right? The biker, he’s in that club, The Sons of Anarchy?”

She furrowed her brow at the comment. She knew SAMCRO was well known around town…but she found it strange that Seth would have enough knowledge about the club to place the fact that she’d been previously involved with Chibs. She spoke the words flying from her lips. “How do you know that?”

Seth shrugged his shoulders he fast to respond. “I’ve seen them around town…saw you on the back of the Scottish guy’s bike once a few months back.”

He was fast to speak again. “Sheriff Roosevelt knows the Sons of Anarchy are up to no good despite their company line of just being motorcycle enthusiasts. The last sheriff Charming had was apparently way too willing to turn the other cheek when it came to SAMCRO. Pretty sure old Unser was just as crooked as the MC. Now that San Joaquin has absorbed the Charming Police department, the days of turning the other cheek are over. Most honest cops worth their salt would love to bust those guys. I’ve seen the records these guys have, the Scottish guy too. They’re criminals, there’s no way of sugar coating it. It’s some crazy shit. They’re an international organization, don’t know if you knew that. The Feds have tried and failed to bust them. The ATF were in town a few years back and they didn’t manage to pin them down the way they’d hoped. So, if the local PD did it, it’d be impressive.”

He paused, shrugging his shoulders the words that left his lips sounding so nonchalant. “I imagine you have to know something about what they’re up to given you dated one of them. I mean, I’m pretty sure you’re smart enough to see the red flags he must have been giving off.”

“Did you ask me out so you could dig for information about my ex and SAMCRO?” She snapped, the thought making her blood boil.

She was being used wasn’t she?

“Not entirely. I asked you out because you’re attractive and you seem like a sweet girl despite your dating history. Anything you might say about your ex and his friends is just a bonus.” Seth remarked.

Y/N reacted by picking up her wine glass, tossing the liquid within it in his face.

Seth wiped his face, a scoff leaving him, his dress shirt now stained with red wine that had managed to drip down his face before he had a chance to really wipe it away. “Guess you’re really not over the ex if you’re this defensive over it. The guy seriously broke your heart and you’re still protecting him. Dude is a scumbag and you’re this upset about the idea of him being busted.”

He spoke nodding at the large windows, to their left, that gave a view of the street outside the restaurant. “Guess he’s not over you either. I noticed him following us when I picked you up. I’m surprised you didn’t hear his bike or notice him. Like I said though, you’ve been miles away all night. He really did a number on you. It’s a shame. You seemed like such a sweet girl and he’s ruined you, clearly.”

She turned in her seat spotting the motorcycle across the street and the familiar man standing beside it. She could see him standing by his bike, his arms crossed, his eyes squinted as he struggled to peer through the restaurant windows in the dim light of dusk.

She grimaced, torn between wanting to stay here and endure this horrible date or wanting to go outside and risk confronting the man who had broken her heart.

She sighed deciding that her heart was going to hurt either way. She might as well go with the devil she knew.

She spoke, gathering her purse and her jacket. “Lose my number. I am not going to be a career stepping stone for you. I may be ruined, but I’m not stupid nor is my self esteem low enough to let myself be used by another man ever again.”

With that she gathered what little she had left of her pride, ignoring Seth’s comment as she walked away from him. “Don’t come crying to me when he winds up in prison. He’s a criminal, Y/N. Don’t forget that. He’ll never change.”

She kept her head down as she left the restaurant pretending she did not see the Scotsman watching her every move.

She cringed as she heard the sound of a bike starting up. She moved a little quicker knowing it was a futile endeavor as she could not outwalk his Harley especially not in red open toed pumps.

“Get on the bike, Lass.” The comment sounded out beside her.

“Fuck you.” She snapped, daring to glare at him, not stopping her pace.

Chibs sighed, rolling his eyes at the comment. “Aye, I deserve that.”

“No kidding. You’re a real piece of shit, showing up here after the last time I saw you. I hate you.” She remarked her pace speeding up Chibs not giving up riding along beside her slowly.

“Now that ye got that outta yer system, will ye please jus get on the damn bike? What do ye think yer even doin? Are ye seriously goin to walk home? Ye live miles away, Love. Jus let me take ye home.” Chibs responded, flinching a bit at the venom behind her words.

“No, I don’t need a damn thing from you. I am no longer your concern. We were never serious, remember?” She snapped back, turning down an alleyway attempting to escape him.

Chibs remained undeterred, parking his bike at the curb and dismounting it. He followed her down the alleyway, his voice sounding drained. “Come on, Y/N. This is fuckin insanity.”

“The only insane thing is you bothering to show up and crash my date. I think you made it perfectly clear that you wanted me to leave you alone the last time we spoke. You made your thoughts on me and how pathetic I am perfectly crystal clear. Nothing has changed.” Y/N retorted groaning as she neared a dead end, it hitting her that her escape route was useless.

Chibs sighed, unable to stop himself from saying it. “Ye ain’t pathetic. Yer date didn’t look like it was goin so well. A fuckin cop, Love? Really?”

She scoffed at the comment she turning to glare at him, the words falling from her lips, unable to stop herself from taunting him. “Remember we come from two different worlds. In my world I can date a cop and you can’t do a damn thing about it.”

He stepped closer to her his eyes growing dark as he stared down at her. “Aye, maybe so. Ye didn’t look like ye were havin much fun with him though, Lass. Ye looked fuckin miserable all night.”

She glared up at him, deciding to push his buttons all the more, lying through her teeth her words far more vulgar than she’d ever dare them to be in any other conversation. “Oh I’ve had plenty of fun with him, Chibs. You did say I was a good fuck. I thought I’d test the theory with him. I might be desperate and pathetic, but you know how good I feel wrapped around a cock. Maybe I thought I’d try his dick out, see how good I could feel.”

The words made his eyes grow all the darker. He stepped even closer to her his voice picking up a possessive tone. “We both know he can’t fuck ye as good as I can, Love. We both know I could do ye so well ye couldn’t walk the next day. Ye seem to be walkin jus fine righ now which tells me he’s nowhere as good as me.”

Her eyes narrowed, she shoving back the lust creeping up in her at the reminder of just how good Chibs Telford had been in bed. “You lost the right to fuck me the second you broke my heart”.

She paused, stepping back closer to the wall, her words harsh, the pain evident in her voice she clenching her fists refusing to cry in front of him. “You don’t love me, remember? So, why the hell are you even here?”

He cringed at the statement a sense of something she did not expect to see in his eyes washing over him; shame, regret.

He sighed the words leaving him. “I made a mistake.”

Y/N crossed her arms over her chest, she sounded as emotionally drained as she felt. “You can’t just show up like this, Filip. You can’t throw me away and then get mad because some other guy wanted me. I’m not something you can just drop and pick back up at your convenience. I can’t deal with the emotional whiplash. I deserve better than someone who only wants me when someone else shows interest.”

“It ain’ like that. I ain’ jus showin up because some prick wanted ye. I won’t lie and say that Bobby mentionin ye had a date didn’t push me to get off my arse and stop bein so stubborn. This ain’ about me wantin ye only cause someone else does. I never stopped wantin ye.” Chibs struggled the explain the comment, his words only confusing her further.

“You didn’t act like you wanted me very much the last time we spoke. You told me I was the only one taking anything between us seriously.” She pointed out the hurt evident in her voice.

Chibs cringed at the comment, reaching up to run a hand through his hair, a sigh leaving his lips. “I didn’t mean any of it…I thought I was protectin ye.”

“From what?” She exclaimed, annoyance joining her confusion.

He sighed, shaking his head. “From me, Love. I know we never said the words…never acknowledged the truth…I never said out loud jus what I am…what SAMCRO is. I knew ye were smart enough to figure it out…that I’m an outlaw. I’m a criminal and yer innocent.”

She parted her lips wanting to snap that she was not that innocent. She didn’t have the chance though as Chibs spoke again. “I have seen ol ladies come and go in this club. I never took an ol lady before ye…Even after I divorced Fiona…I figured I’d not find anyone I wanted to spend my life with…I watched my brother’s and their ol ladies though…I’ve seen em be treated like shite by my brothers. I’ve seen men treat the women they claim to love like dog shite.”

“You never treated me like that…I mean aside from how you dumped me, that was kind of shitty.” She remarked, her voice soft.

Chibs nodded his head, a heavy sigh leaving him. “Aye that may be true. It wasn’t jus kinda shite love, I was a piece of shite.”

He paused, forcing himself to say the words he should have said to her from the start. “The violence that the life I’ve chosen requires…I never wanted ye to experience it. The role I’ve taken in the club..Sgt at Arms..it requires a certain level of violence…violence I’m perfectly capable of…it’s a side of me I never wanted ye to know existed in me…the life I’ve chosen to live chews ye up and spits ye back out. I’ve seen it break more people than I care to admit…and I’ve lost more than a few people in my life. I got in my head thinkin bout ye, thinkin bout how much I love ye…how pure bein in love with ye feels. Told myself the life I chose to live would jus taint that purity, that the world that comes with me would break ye. I couldn’t let it happen. I love ye, and I’d rather let ye go than lose ye or make ye think I’m a monster.”

“So, you just broke my heart instead of telling me how you felt? That was the plan?” She snapped, absorbing the words rolling them around in her head soaking them in.

He loved her.

She knew of course just what he was…she was not stupid. She didn’t buy the whole innocent motorcycle enthusiast lie SAMCRO loved to spin. She had spotted the occasional signs that Chibs’ day to day life consisted of more than just being a mechanic at TM Auto. He carried a burner cell and weapons for heaven's sake. Those were pretty big red flags if there ever were any.

The red flags had never pushed her from Chibs. He’d seemed so sweet and had been a perfect gentleman to her. She’d told herself that anyone who could treat her with such adoration could not be a danger to her. She’d ignored any sense of self preservation that told her he was dangerous and had followed her heart with him.

She also heard the whispers around town. Charming’s local populace seemed to be well aware that SAMCRO was up to no good. They seemed to tolerate the club as a necessary evil of sorts.

She’d told herself that the men she’d gotten to know, who so often frequented her bakery, were not a threat to her.

Chibs sighed nodding his head wordlessly as Y/N spoke the words leaving her. “You’re an idiot, Filip.”

He felt a small smirk cross his features at the comment. “Aye, been called worse.”

He sighed the smirk dropping from his lips the words sounding certain as they left him. “I fucked up, Love. I thought I was doin the righ thing…lettin ye go. It fuckin hurts though. I miss ye. My heart misses ye. This past month has been miserable without ye. When I found out some fuckin cop was takin ye out on a date, I bout lost my mind. I came out here tonigh to…I don’t know…see ye from afar, maybe work up my nerve to crash yer date…try to win ye back. I figured if I got here and ye seemed happy, then I’d let ye go…but ye don’t seem happy. I don’t think either of us are happy apart, Love.”

She sighed resting against the brick wall of the building behind her the words leaving her. “I don’t know what to do with this, Filip. I mean it. I can’t deal with the emotional whiplash. This past month has sucked. I’m not happy apart from you…I’m afraid of letting you back in though. How do I know you aren’t just going to drop me the next time you get too lost in your head? I know what you are, Filip. I’m not an idiot. I care about you enough to learn to accept that side of you…I’ve been accepting thus far…I’m so hesitant to learn to trust you again though… I can’t listen to you tell me you don’t love me again. I can’t let you break my heart in some hairbrained attempt to protect me again.”

He let out a sigh of his own, his heart sinking, fearing that it was too little too late. Perhaps he’d ruined the one good thing he seemed to have going for him.

He swallowed the lump in his throat knowing he had to try to fix this. He was going to try as hard as he could. “I know I really fucked up, Lass. I swear to God though that I will spend the rest of my life tryin to make up fer how much I hurt ye. I know I don’t deserve a second chance, but I’m beggin fer ye to give me a chance. I will do whatever it takes to get ye to let me back in. I’ll work fer it day and night if that’s what it takes. Yer the best thing I got in my life…the purest, I aint known many pure things in my life. Bein with ye made me feel like I migh jus be a good man even with all the shite I’ve done and all the pain I’ve caused fer the club…Bein without ye, it’s been hell fer me. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, and I can’t focus. I’ve been a grouchy fuck, accordin to Bobby at least. I fuckin broke yer heart and my own in the process. I want to fix it, Love. I want to fix our hearts if yer willin to give me the chance. Jus give me the chance to put our hearts back together. Let me try.”

She felt her throat grow tight at this, her eyes growing damp, Chibs fearing she was about to tell him that there was no chance for them. His fears died as she spoke, her voice weepy. “Oh, Filip.”

She reached for him, her hand pressing to his cheek he leaning into her touch as she spoke. “I don’t want to feel this miserable ever again. Please, don’t make me feel that awful ever again.”

“Never, Love.” He reassured her his hands reaching out to press to her sides, thankful that she did not yank away from him as he pulled her into an embrace.

He leaned down his lips sliding across her, the kiss starting out slow and sweet, almost as hesitant as their very first kiss.

The kiss quickly grew deep and impassioned the realization of just how much they’d longed for one another growing apparent.

She slid a hand down his body resting it against his denim clad cock massaging it as it began to perk up the lower region of his body very aware of just how much he’d longed for her. He groaned, pulling from the kiss his words thick with need. “Fuck, Love. Yer playin with fire here.”

She smirked at him, the words spilling from her. “I don’t mind fire.”

He moaned his hips rocking against her on their own accord eager to chance even the slightest hint of stimulation from the woman he’d feared he would never have a chance to have ever again.

He spoke that jealous little voice, unable to stop itself from working the words from him. “I have to know, Love. Did ye really fuck that cop bastard?”

She sighed, deciding that lying to him would just be cruel. She pulled her hand from his crotch ignoring the low whine that left him. “No, Filip. The last guy I slept with is you.”

He nodded his head frantically, a sense of relief washing over him. “Aye, okay…even still...”

He paused for a moment finding the words unable to stop himself from still feeling possessive of her. “I’m going to fuck ye so hard yer going to forget that guys name”

She felt a wave of lust wash over her that she knew Chibs was only capable of dragging from her. “Please.”

His lips met hers, the kiss somewhat harsh that possessive voice in the back of his head insisting that he had to claim her right here right now. She was his and she needed to be reminded of it.

His lips left hers pressing down her neck nipping at her skin roughly sucking against any marks his teeth may have left behind ensuring she’d have plenty of love bites to remind her of who she belonged to.

His hands roamed her body she practically melting against him doing all she could to run her hands across his back caressing him over the leather of his kutte.

He ran his hands up her body yanking the front of her dress down so hard he was amazed it didn’t rip the fabric. His lips pressed down her chest nipping at the delicate skin along her cleavage wanting to leave his mark there as well.

She moaned, her head falling back, his name leaving her lips. He groaned against her his words muffled against her skin. “Aye that’s right, Love. Say my name, let everyone know jus who ye belong to.”

He yanked her bra down her breasts spilling from the cups, his lips locking down over a breast suckling harshly a whine leaving her.

He ran a hand up her dress along her hip caressing her skin as his lips focused on her breasts nipping at the skin and taking her nipples between his lips suckling eagerly.

She whined as he wasted no time to slide a hand along the lace of her panties, a groan leaving him the noise vibrating against her breast as he continued to suckle.

His hand slid eagerly under the waistband of her panties, his fingers finding her slit. He grunted rubbing her for a moment before allowing his fingers to slide between her damp center. He thrust his fingers in her stroking her walls, her knees practically buckling.

He spoke pulling from her breasts his voice sounding almost awestruck. “Yer so fuckin beautiful, so fuckin wet fer me. Just grippin down on my fingers pullin me in. This pussy missed me, aye?”

She nodded her head wordlessly a whine leaving her his fingers stopping a frustrated noise leaving her. He spoke his voice demanding. “Tell me, Love.”

“I missed you so much, Filip.” She admitted the words so needy and so true.

He groaned, rewarding her with a thrust of his fingers curling them just right to hit a part of her that made her tremble against him. “Good girl. That’s my lass. Drippin down my fingers takin em so well.”

She moaned, not caring who might just hear her. She was sure a marching band could make their way down the alley at the moment and she would not give a damn as good as she felt at the moment.

His fingers slid across her clit, the action making her knees grow all the wobbly, her fingers digging into the leather of his kutte a high pitched whine leaving her. “Fuck.”

He smirked, rubbing circular patterned into the sensitive bud, the action making a few more curses leave her lips.

He balanced stimulation to her clit with the thrust of his fingers into her core, the action making her feel dizzy. The only thing she could focus on was rocking her hips to chase the stimulation he provided.

He spoke a teasing tone to his voice. “Christ, look at ye, Love. Riding my fingers, so needy fer me. Ye love this don’t ye? Me fingerin ye in the alley where anyone might see us.”

She whined nodding her head knowing this was the most risky thing she’d ever done in her life and she found it thrilling.

She knew she’d realistically be mortified if anyone walked upon this, but the risk of it all made her wetter than she was sure she’d ever been in her entire life.

He spoke, pushing her all the more. “Imagine if yer fuckin date walked up on this aye? Saw ye riding my fingers moanin fer me like a whore. Fuckin seein I’m the only one who can make ye feel this good by my fingers alone.”

“You make me feel so fucking good, Filip. No one else feels this good.” She whined the statement, working a moan from him, his lips pressing to hers in a deep bruising kiss.

She continued to ride his fingers eager to chase a release.

He encouraged her his voice demanding as he pulled from the kiss. “Play with yer clit, Love. Touch that pussy while you ride my fingers.”

She moaned, pressing her fingers to his lips, he taking them between his lips sucking them wetting them for her.

She pulled her hand from his lips reaching down as he demanded toying with her clit, the task not easy with the fuss of working around the skirt of her dress and her panties.

She rubbed circles into her clit frantically trying to increase the pleasure she felt.

She whined the heat beginning to pool in her abdomen, a coil tightening within her proving that she was so incredibly close to falling over the edge.

She spoke the words needy. “Going to cum.”

“That’s my love. Want ye to fuckin cum. Cum on my fingers, sweetheart. Let go fer me.” He encouraged her his eyes unable to leave her as she neared her release, her skin flushed, her lips parted, her head fallen back, her chest heaving.

She was unable to stop the high pitched moan from leaving her as she let go her thighs shaking her center clenching and unclenching around his fingers.

He continued to finger her throughout the orgasm he moaning his cock throbbing desperate to be within her his manhood feeling envious of his fingers.

She whined as she came down from her orgasm, his touch becoming too much all too quickly. She slumped against him as he pulled his fingers from her.

She kept a tight grip on him almos sure she’d collapse to the ground if he was not holding her up.

She moaned as he pulled his fingers up to his lips, sucking them, cleaning her taste from them, a satisfied groan leaving his lips.

He pulled his fingers from his lips pressing his lips to hers sharing her taste with her. She moaned against the kiss his hand roaming her body as she recovered from the intensity of her orgasm.

He pulled from the kiss his words needy. “Want ye so bad, Love. Let me fuck ye.”

She whined nodding her head the words that left her just as full of need. “Please, Filip. Need you so much.”

He groaned, reaching down and unfastening his belt with skilled hands. He unzipped his jeans unbuttoning them. He yanked his boxers down just enough to pull his hard cock from the confines of the fabric.

She moaned, reaching between them her hand wrapping around his cock he grunting at the touch. Her thumb ran along his slit spreading the precum leaking from him, he moaning at the action.

He spoke resisting the urge to thrust against her hand though the temptation to spit in her hand and demand she jerk him off a tempting one. "Shite, m'love."

He could picture cumming from her touch spilling his release against her hand, maybe even letting a little of it land on her sweet little dress. He smirked at the thought a possessive voice in the back of his head exclaiming that he’d mark her so clearly making it obvious she was all his.

He spoke his voice demanding as he reluctantly pulled from her touch. “Get rid of those panties, Love. Give me room to fuck ye.”

She did was she was told, reaching down to place her fingers under the waistband of her panties, sliding them down her legs letting them land against the concrete below them not caring what happened to them as long as it meant having his perfect cock buried in her.

He groaned, taking himself in hand, sliding it along her wet pussy, the words leaving him. “Gonna fuck ye so good, Love. Gonna ruin ye for any other man.”

“Already have.” She whined the words so honest.

She knew her heart was his. She was trusting him to take care of her and make this right with her.

He groaned the words spilling from him. “Fuckin ruined me too, Sweet Lass. Ye belong with me. Yer all I fuckin want, forever.”

He moved his hands to her thighs encouraging her to wrap her legs around his hips allowing him to press her against the wall for support.

She wrapped her arms around him clutching on to him desperately trusting him to keep her held upwards. She spoke the words needy. “I’m addicted to you. You’re mine.”

He spoke positioning his cock at the entrance the words possessive. “Yer fuckin mine too. My ol lady, only mine, till the breath leave my body.”

She didn’t have a chance to respond as he slid himself home entering her inch by inch hissing at the sensation of her velvety soaking walls enveloping his cock.

He spoke his words low and full of praise. “Perfect fuckin pussy. Belongs wrapped round me, only me.”

“Only you.” She moaned agreeing her head falling back as he began to rock against her his hips jerking against her desperately proving he was intent on fucking her.

His hips rocked against her frantically pushing her back up against the wall, his hand reaching up to press to the back of her head not wanting to slam her head into the rough brick wall behind them.

She whined clutching on to him all the tighter, letting herself sink into the sensation of him. Her lips pressed to his trying her best to muffle her moans.

He moaned against her lips the sensation of her wrapped around him so heavenly. He knew no one had ever felt so incredible wrapped around him.

He may have taunted her commenting that he was capable of fucking her so hard that she couldn’t walk the next day, but it was the truth. He knew she was so capable of taking all he had to give her.

She thrived equally on the rougher encounters they had as well as the softer slow love making sessions. Each time he had the privilege of taking her he was reminded of how lucky he was.

He had not been lying. She had ruined him for other women.

He was hopelessly devoted to her. She took him so perfectly and she loved him so deeply. She loved him for all he was, even his imperfections. She saw the good in him that others disregarded.

She was his saving grace at the end of the day. He knew he could protect her. He could make sure she could remain his sweet loving ol lady who made him shortbread and slept peacefully by his side at night trusting him to care for her.

He kept thrusting in her his hips not losing speed knowing he was desperate not only to chase his release but to help her reach hers as well.

He spoke his voice low and filled with adoration. “Look at ye, fuckin cock drunk on me. Can’t think bout nothin but how good I feel.”

She whimpered, nodding her head the words struggling to leave her lips. “Feels so good, Filip.”

He spoke a moan of approval leaving him. “Feels perfect, Love. Takin my cock so well. Shite, I love ye.”

“Love you.” She responded, her fingers digging into his back as he continued to take her against the wall.

She whined, able to hear the sounds of cars passing by only feet away. The alleyway was dark enough out and there were no lights nearby to reveal that she was being fucked in such a public place.

This felt so filthy but so perfect. This was so dangerous, just as dangerous as him, and she loved it. She loved how risky this felt. She loved the man desperately fucking her making her center ache around him dripping against his cock.

She knew he was the only man on this entire planet who could make her feel this good and the only man she would trust to take her in such a vulnerable place.

He would protect her; she knew this. She trusted him to take care of her and keep her safe. He would prove to her that he was devoted to her and would cherish her heart just as dearly as she cherished his.

He moaned the words leaving his lips. ‘Gonna take ye slower the second I get ye home. Gonna take ye so many times tonight, Lovely girl. Gonna remind ye that this pussy belongs to me.”

She whined, nodding her head frantically. “Missed you so much, Filip.”

He groaned, nodding his head. “Aye, missed ye, Love. Never goin to make ye miss me again. Never gonna fuck this up ever again, Love. Gonna keep ye by my side as long yer willin to have me.”

“Want you forever.” She whined the words so certain, making his heart ache with absolute adoration.

“Aye, forever.” He worked out his eyes locked on her, she by far the most stunning woman he’d ever seen and ever had the privilege of loving.

She moaned, her hand pulling from his back sliding down her body finding her slick clit. He moaned realizing what she was doing as she began to rub at the bud of nerves so eagerly. “Such a good lass. Touchin that pussy fer me. Jeysus, Love. Play with yer wee clit make yerself cum on this cock.”

She whimpered his words encouraging her, she wanting to make herself cum for him. She wanted him to know how good he made her feel. She wanted him to know he was the only man capable of making her feel so good.

He spoke becoming lost in lust, the words falling from him, his balls aching knowing he was closer than he’d prefer to be. “Fuckin cum on my cock and let me cum in ye. Fuck, make yerself cum. Wanna fill ye up so bad. Want my cum to drip from ye. Gonna fuckin put yer panties back on ye, not clean ye up even. Want ye to know I’m claimin what’s mine. Gonna be our wee secret, Gonna take ye home on my bike with my cum leakin from ye.”

She moaned at the statement knowing he was truly the only man who could say such absolute filth to her without her feeling bashful. If anything the dirty talk just egged her on.

She’d not had too many partners prior to him but he was by far the best she’d ever had.

She rubbed her clit knowing just how to touch herself to help her along the path to a release. She’d had more experience in getting herself off before meeting Chibs Telford.

She’d discovered that with Chibs around she rarely had to rely on getting herself off. He was always eager to make her feel incredible even when he was exhausted.

She felt her toes curl at the sensations building up in her, she knowing it wouldn’t be much longer now. She could feel her orgasm building in her, the fire spreading through her knowing it would burn so hot for him.

She trembled against him, her thighs growing tense, her body jerking against him. Her fingers did not let up on her clit, her center clenching around his cock eagerly attempting to milk his release from him as she fell over the edge.

She pressed her lips against his a cry leaving her lips as she came.

He moaned the feel of her fluttering around his cock absolute perfection. It did not take long for his own end to sneak up on him, his balls drawing up close to his body, his cock throbbing.

He spilled into her as he fell over the edge, his words spilling against her lips, his accent growing so thick she could not even make out the words. “Fuckin take it, Love. Yer mine.”

She whined the warmth of his release filling her in hot spurts making her shudder against him. She clung on to him, her body feeling weak and so incredibly satisfied.

He moaned the last of his release, desperately spilling from him into her his own knees feeling wobbly.

He pressed her further into the wall knowing he felt shaky enough that he feared not being able to hold her up as well as he should.

He pressed lazy kisses to her lips a low moan leaving him as he softened enough to slide from her body a shudder leaving him as the cold air hit his spent cock.

He spoke a drowsy giggle leaving him. “Christ, Love. Thank God fer the pill.”

She felt her own giggle leave her, she shaking her head. “Beats the hell out of condoms.”

He smirked knowing she was the first woman he’d been with in a long while where condoms weren’t an absolute necessity.

His experiences prior to her had consisted of croweaters who he was so not going into fucking without a rubber.

He’d made it quite clear to her though that he only had eyes for her and he had a clean bill of health. So the pill had become their main form of contraception until the day they decided they might want to bring a few tiny Telfords into the world.

It was a possibility they’d discussed, and Chibs had been shocked to find that he didn’t mind the idea of possibly giving her a child at some point in the future even if it worried him to know he’d most likely be an older parent.

The idea of her having his child did fill him with an undeniable sense of pride though.

She lowered her thighs from his hips he continuing to hold her up her knees feeling like jello at the moment.

She rolled her eyes not missing the proud smirk on his lips at the realization that he’d made her so unsteady on her feet especially in heels.

He tucked himself back into his boxers hastily zipping his jeans back up and refastening his belt.

He pressed his lips to hers lowering her dress back down the words leaving him. “Never goin to risk losin ye again, m’love. Need ye in my life. Never fuckin this up ever again. I love ye.”

She placed a hand on his cheek, her lips pressing to his, the words spilling from her. “I love you too, never letting you take the risk of losing me again. You can’t get rid of me, Filip. I’m yours.”

He nodded his head, a sense of comfort washing over him any fears he’d had of tainting her or destroying her seeming way too far away to grasp. “I’m yours. Ye ain’ gettin rid of me either.”

She closed her eyes as he held her against him, rocking her against him soaking up the comfort of belonging to one another.

Her heart once again felt full.

She knew they would not part again. He was hers just as much as she was his.

She would never lose him ever again.

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wardenparker · 2 years

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Starting Over - Chapter 2

Marcus Pike x female Reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Recently arrived in Texas and only slightly removed from his divorce, Marcus finds himself smitten with the women at the housewares store that is helping him furnish his new Austin condo. It becomes a more complicated situation than he could have expected, but Marcus has never been one to shy away from a challenge when love is on the line. ✨This fic takes place *before* the events of The Mentalist.✨

Rating: E for Extremely Explicit! Word Count: 16.4k Warnings: Cursing and food/alcohol mentions. Blanket warnings for this fic will include divorce, past abusive relationships, deceased parents, father issues. Summary: Whether you technically want to call it your first or second date with Marcus, a movie and dinner becomes quite an adventure when you realize that the two of you have a few key things in common. Notes: We’re ramping things up right out of the gate here, guys. Hold on to your hats!

Ch 1

With five minutes left until six o’clock you’ve managed to force yourself to stop pacing the main floor of your place. Instead, you’re sitting in your kitchen with a mug of tea and nervously twirling the small ring you’ve chosen as an accessory round and around your finger. It had been nearly impossible to think about anything besides Marcus for the rest of your shift. Everything seemed to push your thoughts back to him. Not that they ever strayed far from him in the first place.

Marcus had to stop setting up everything about an hour before, switching gears and showering so he could get dressed in something that was appropriate for a date. Nothing too formal, but he paired dark jeans and boots with a maroon button-down shirt and his leather jacket. The dishwasher hummed and he had just transferred the clothes over to the dryer. Kitchen towels and bathroom towels are all ready to be folded and put away once they are done.

He checks his watch and gives a grin, time to head over. He picks up the small bouquet of flowers he had stopped by to grab after he had dropped you off at work and gives himself a small nod. "Time to go, don't embarrass yourself Pike, you like this woman and she's your neighbor."

You shake your head and grin when the sound of the doorbell chimes at six sharp, wondering what Marcus must think of your roommate’s playful motion to replace the neighborhood-standard ding dong with something more akin to music. “Right on time,” you practically beam at him when you open the door. He’s somehow even more attractive than he was a few hours ago, and is very sweetly holding out a small handful of gorgeous flowers. “Come on in. I’ll get a vase for those beauties.”

He steps inside, pleased to find that it is a mirror image of his own place. "Well now I don't have to explain how big my living room is." He teases, remembering how flustered you became when you had said something about it that could be construed in a completely different kind of way.

Snickering lightly, you dig an empty vase out of a cabinet and toss him a pointed look. “You pushed the innuendo on that one. You’d just gotten done asking about a people to cuddle section!”

"Valid question for a single man who just wants someone to love." He argues playfully. "It's better than trying one of those dating apps." He shudders slightly at the idea.

“I have to admit, they can suck.” A lot of your more recent dating has been done via app and blind set ups with Naomi’s boyfriend’s friends, but clearly none of them have stuck.

"I get the theory behind them." Marcus shrugs and steps closer as you put water in the vase. He leans against your counter and sweeps his eyes up and down your figure in appreciation. "I just like an interesting meet-cute. Like ours. It's honestly fascinating in my opinion and so much better than 'we matched'. "

“Retail makes it harder sometimes. All those fun weekend activities where people meet and chat and get to know each other? I’m usually working then. It’s only with the new promotion that I’m getting some of my nights and weekend time back.” The beautiful bouquet is easily deposited into the vase with some water, and you set it down on the kitchen island in front of you with a satisfied smile. “But I like our meet-cute better, too. It’ll be a very cute story if we ever have occasion to tell it.”

"Well." Marcus shoots you a smile as you admire the flowers. "I say that we start our first date and see if we have reason to tell people about a meet-cute or that date from hell with the person I unfortunately live next to now and just wave to awkwardly." He jokes. If things didn't work out, he wouldn't treat you any different from any neighbors he had in the past. He just wasn't that type of man.

“I doubt you’ve ever been anyone's Date From Hell, Marcus Pike.” One quick reach and you’re picking up your purse from the kitchen island and nudging him toward the front door.

He chuckles. "Then you’ve never heard about the time my car broke down, I spilled my beer on her, my credit card was declined, and it started pouring down rain while we walked to a phone alllllllll in one date." He tells you as he guides you over to his car. "Classic definition of a date from hell. "

“Oh, noooo.” The laughter that bubbles out of you is apologetic, to say the least. “That sounds awful. But it wasn’t because you did something wrong.”

"True." He huffs and opens the door for you. "But it doesn't count as anywhere close to the top ten dates."

Once you’re both settled in the car you settle back with a comfortable sigh. “Tell me about one of the top ten, then. The funniest date or the best one or the one that is the most nostalgic.”

"Well...." Marcus knows that it's not good protocol to talk about past relationships, but you asked. "I reserved a suite at the best hotel and had a full spa package arranged complete with room service." He offers. "That was a fantastic weekend."

“You like to make a fuss.” The revelation makes you smile, glad to see that the Marcus you met today who does small things like hold doors and pick up trash from the table, is consistently thoughtful. Not just as a means of making a good first impression.

"I do." He doesn't apologize for it, knowing that some might not like it, but it was a part of his personality. "Acts of services?" He offers with a smile.

“I’ll remember that.” Preferring to go into this with the idea of it lasting, you want to keep track of the important things early on. If it ends up fizzling out, it won’t be because of a lack of intention. “I’m kind of a words of affirmation and gifts combo.”

"Noted." He tosses you a grin. "And if I get to be too much, just— you know, you can always say something. I never want to overstep." He knows that there are certain people who hate having things done for them and he respects it.

“We’ll find a rhythm.” That’s something you’re fairly certain of, given the fact that you’re both reasonable adults and have so far been very upfront about your interest in each other. “As long as this doesn’t unseat your worst ever date story tonight, and we decide to see what happens…we’ll find a rhythm. Just…if you’re not a good morning and good night text kind of person, tell me now.”

That makes him grin and he shakes his head. "I'm more of a 'hey I called to let you know that I'm going to be ten minutes late and is there anything you need when I am on my way?' type of person." He had stopped calling Amanda when she seemed so annoyed by it, but in the end she seemed annoyed no matter what he had done.

“We’re the people who drive other people crazy,” you observe softly. “Checking in, sending notes, holding doors, doing things preemptively to try to lighten the load.” It actually makes you chuckle, the way that the two of you seem to line up. Even Naomi likes to give you grief about the little notes you drop in her purse sometimes when she has something big coming up, or the fact that you always seem to have one of her favorite bath bombs stashed for when she’s having a bad day.

"Can't be a bad thing, right?" He asks.

“For us?” You shake your head, offering him a smile as he drives. “No. It’s good for us. But other people are missing out on the excellence that is our affection.”

He appreciates the outlook you have on it and hums when he stops at a red light. "What about you? I want to know your worst and best dates. See where the bar is at."

“Let’s see.” Humming dramatically, you love the way he lights up a little when he looks over at you again before the light turns green. “Worst would be from college. The guy who took me to his little brother’s little league game because I said I like baseball. I gave him the benefit of the doubt, thinking he was trying to be cute about it, but he proceeded to spend the entire game yelling corrections at the kids and telling me why they should give up on sports early to avoid disappointment.” It’s sort of funny now - mostly you just feel bad for the little brother and literally anyone who has met him since. “And the ‘picnic’ dinner he was very proud of packing? Was celery sticks and Jell-O cups. Which we ate while he told me what I should be changing about my diet and lifestyle to be more attractive to the men who have to spend time with me.”

"What a dick." Marcus makes a face of disgust and shakes his head. "I'm seriously hoping you shoved a celery stick somewhere extremely uncomfortable in his bodily orifices." He chuckles. "I'm saying this as a private citizen and this in no way represents the view of the Federal Bureau of Investigation." He adds on, dry humor lacing his tone.

You shrug, being far past any kind of upset about it, and gently and briefly run your knuckle along the side of his hand in a soothing gesture. “I went home and ordered a pizza for me and my roommate to have with some beers while we watched the actual game that was on that night. Much better use of my time.”

"Perfect." Marcus nods in approval. "If he wanted to really make it a date, he should have taken you to the game. Cheap seats, hotdogs, and beer?" He gives a small groan of approval. "Nachos and the ice cream that comes in the little hats."

“I’m seeing a road trip to a Rangers game in our future.” The prediction makes your smile widen, and don’t for one moment regret letting yourself get excited.

"We could do that." Marcus has to admit that he wouldn't mind that at all. "We didn't have a professional team in Portland, but we had a minor league team that I would go to sometimes."

“Are you from Portland originally?” You ask, wanting to know more about the man you already feel so comfortable with.

"No." He shakes his head and shrugs. "I'm from southern Cali, don't hold it against me. Portland was my first duty station out of the Academy." He gives a small chuckle. "San Diego to Quantico was like a completely different world."

“Man, I thought upstate New York to DC was bad.” Shaking your head a little, you try to imagine a laid back, potentially surfer-sequence version of Marcus getting used to the pounding pace of the nation’s capital.

"Completely. I had just finished school and it was a completely different universe." He chuckles, looking over at you with a grin. "Frat parties to weapons training."

“I went from the family farm to the big city.” The image of him as a frat boy is endlessly entertaining to you, because he doesn’t give off that stereotypical energy in the least. “8 am classes were nothing compared to getting up before dawn to milk the cows before school, let me tell you.”

"Wow." He tosses you a grin. "No wonder you spent ten minutes telling me about how different cheeses reacted to different styles of graters."

“You can take the girl out of the dairy farm, but you can’t take the obsessive knowledge of all things milk-related out of the girl.” At the time you had barely noticed you were doing it, but now you can feel the tips of your ears heat up. “When were you at Quantico?” You ask, quickly changing the subject.

“Ten years ago.” He smirks slightly at your obvious embarrassment, but he had been fascinated by the mini lecture.

As he pulls up to another red light, you turn fully toward him in your seat with your eyebrows furrowed as seriously as eyebrows can possibly be furrowed. “Marcus.” You shake your head at him, barely keeping yourself from laughing. “I graduated from George Washington University eight years ago. This…” You can’t hold them back, the giggles escaping at the ridiculousness of the whole thing. “This isn’t the first time we’ve lived in the same city…”

“Jesus.” His own giggles burst out until the two of you are laughing in his car like idiots.

“The universe literally just shoved you through my front door today. Just incredibly sick of us walking past each other on the street.” You may not put a lot of stock in destiny or the universe, but it sort of seems like the something out there is dead set in making you believe.

“No, what will be sick is if you used to go to the Command Post.” He tells you, remembering heading to that little sports bar when they needed a break to have a few beers and shoot some pool. It’s one of the few places he had gone.

“Um…” Sinking back into your seat, you cringe a little before you burst out giggling again. “My roommate…Naomi…s-she used to bartend there…”

His eyes blow wide, and he whips his head around to stare at you in shock. “No shit?!” He huffs out. “Jesus, Madison was fucking in love with her. Swear he would tip her like forty bucks every time he bought a round.” He pauses. “Curly hair, skin the color of dark chocolate and would wear green contacts?”

“You know Madi?!” It's a goddamn blessing that you’re nearly at the movie theater, because you’re both about to bust out of the car from laughing so hard. “Oh, you’re going to fucking love this.” What the ever-fucking-fuck kind of coincidence is all this? “Marcus, they’re dating now! He’s here in Texas. They ran into each other a couple of months ago at a private party she was working.”

“Jesus, I wondered where the hell he went.” Madison had gotten caught up in a bad bust in organized crime and had left the FBI. He slaps his hand against the steering wheel and starts laughing again. “Okay! I get it! We were supposed to meet!” He glances up at the roof of the car before he looks back over at you. “This is proof that the world is a small fucking place.”

“Fucking crazy.” You shake your head at him, aware your mouth is hanging open in disbelief but not really able to close it or stop being shocked. “When we hit that Rangers game, all four of us should go,” you offer, wanting to give him a chance to see his old friend again. “If you want.”

“Hell yeah.” Marcus chuckles and turns into the parking lot of the theater. “We used to talk about taking a train into New York for a Yankees or Mets game when we were studying our asses off.”

“You couldn’t just go to a Nationals game like everyone else in the city?” It’s so wild to think about that you’re not sure you’ll be able to start processing it properly any time soon. “I can’t believe this…”

“We did, but we wanted to go see a subway series game.” He tells you with a laugh.

“Just think,” you flash Marcus a grin and shake your head. “If we’d run into each other at the bar back then, maybe I could have avoided the Little League date.” You shrug. “But then, I do love to tell that story.”

He snorts and shakes his head. “It could have been possible. I met my ex-wife in that bar.”

“Oh yeah?” You haven’t poked or asked anything about her, but this feels like a moment to at least make the situation a little lighter. “Anyone I know?” At this point, you would believe anything.

"Okay, so if you knew Amanda Perez, I'm going to just declare this the Twilight Zone." He huffs, glancing over at you to see your reaction to her name after he parks.

“That depends.” You can feel all the blood drain from your face, thinking about the only Amanda Perez you ever knew - ten years ago, in Washington DC. If it’s the same woman, you’re going to declare this completely insane. “Are we talking 5’9”, black hair, perpetually bronze skin, never drinks hot chocolate with mini marshmallows, and talks in her sleep when she’s stressed out?”

“No fucking way.” Marcus leans back and gives you a wide-eyed stare of disbelief. “This is— how did you know her?” He chokes out.

“We…” You choke on it, honestly a little worried about how he’ll react. If you’re right about the timing…well, the universe has a very fucked up sense of humour. “We dated.” Your head drops, looking at your thumbs in your lap. “For about six months. Then she sat me down on campus one day and told me she’d met somebody else.” Just - apparently - like she’d done to Marcus ten months ago. “When did you guys meet?”

He feels like he's been hit by a truck. Especially since he had specifically asked his ex-wife if she was dating someone when they met and he got her number. Woodenly, he tells you the date, something that he had memorized at one time as the luckiest fucking date in history.

"Cool." You're already nodding as soon as the month comes out of his mouth, and for the first time this memory makes your heart hurt not because she hurt you but because she hurt him just the same way. "Cool...yeah...we...um...we overlapped for about a month, then. She was seeing both of us for about a month..."

"I'm sorry." Marcus is immediately apologizing, feeling completely sick to his stomach. "Fuck, I'm so sorry. I - I asked if she was seeing someone, I swear."

"Marcus, I'm not mad." Shaking your head again, it's like you're trying to shake your thoughts back into line. "I mean, I was. I was completely heartbroken. But it's not your fault. She..." You shrug helplessly. "Clearly, she has a pattern of finding someone new before she leaves the person she's with. I'm sorry...if this is all too weird, or too much, or upsetting for you I totally get it. I can take an Uber home and we can just wave awkwardly at each other in passing like most neighbors." It would - you realize with a sick feeling dropping through you - be a little heartbreaking all over again. But you don't want to put Marcus through any kind of pain.

"Why would I want that?" He frowns at you in confusion. "I mean…if you don't think that it's a good idea to date, I understand. But my ex-wife being a slightly shittier person than I had realized doesn't change my interest in you."

"Are you kidding?" A huff pushes its way out of you as you laugh in disbelief. "I want to send her a picture of us together. Ten years later and I still want to throw it back in her face. I may be feeling a little petty about it, to be honest. But I'm sure as hell not going to let the fact that we share an ex put me off wanting to be on this date with you tonight."

The grin Marcus gives you is positively wicked, and he purses his lips slightly. "We are still friends on social media." He tells you slyly. "We agreed that we would be 'friends' because she couldn't bear the thought of not knowing that I was okay." He rolls his eyes slightly now that he knows that it's a pattern his ex had for cheating. Something he had clearly stated he despised.

"Ooooo," you rub your hands together with happy, petty glee. "Picture in front of the movie theater? See if she spontaneously combusts over Facebook?"

"Oh, I say we tease her." Marcus huffs. "Post a picture of us holding hands and then one after the movie. Don't you remember how nosy she is?" Amanda had always wanted to know what was going on in everyone's lives.

“I will bet you anything that she will try to take preemptive credit about how she always knew we would get along or some bullshit.” With the specter of your mutual ex not hanging between you like an awful Twilight Zone episode, you lean quickly over the center console of his car and leave a small press of your lips on his cheek. “Come on, handsome, quick picture and let’s get some popcorn. Movie starts in less than five minutes.”

Marcus snorts as he gets out of the car, walking around it while giggling to himself like a schoolboy and gives you a smirk when he opens the door for you. "So, I have a technical question?" He started in a long draw. "Does...does our body count go up when we sleep together? Since we've slept with the same woman? Don't we get a pass on this? I feel like we should get a pass."

“Honey, I have a feeling my body count is a lot higher than yours anyway,” you throw him a playfully suggestive wink, but the fact is that you never actually made it to the altar over the last ten years and he did. “If you want a pass, it can be a pass.”

"That doesn't scare me." He shuts the door behind you and his hand rests on your lower back, not too low to be disrespectful but he knew you wouldn't mind the touch. "Just like the fact that you used to date my ex-wife doesn't scare me. We can bitch about her annoying traits together." He jokes lightly.

“Blanket hog.” You groan immediately, making no effort to pretend you’re not leaning into his warmth a little. March in the evening in Texas still had a decided chill in the air. “I’ll offer this up on the Altar of Exes while we’re still on the topic, but I was engaged about a year ago. Part of packing up and coming to Texas was getting the hell out of New York again. It’s not necessarily a long story, but it definitely reads like the screenplay for a Hallmark movie.”

"Man or woman?" He asks curiously. It's obvious that you have lived that never say never life and he's interested in your background. "Not that it matters, heart break is heart break and I know it sucks."

“Boy.” You roll your eyes dramatically. “Basically, I stayed in DC after college, trying to figure out what the hell to do with my hospitality degree that would pay more than minimum wage and no clear dream job. About four years ago, my mom got cancer, and my dad couldn’t take care of her and the farm on his own, so I moved back. Crate & Barrel let me transfer to the nearest store to my hometown and I kept my job there one day a week just so I wouldn’t have to quit. Turned out that my dad’s prized farm manager was my high school sweetheart. He and I got back together, tried to make it work, then when it was clear that my mom wasn’t going to make it, he proposed in front of her. Forced me to say yes, basically. A few months later I laid my mom to rest, told him to eat shit, and I found a promotion to move to.”

"Oh fuck." He grimaces at the poor taste of that timing. "I could see if it was her wish to see her little girl happy or whatever, but nooooo." He shakes his head and rubs your back in a half turn of his wrist. "I'm sorry about your mother, beautiful." He murmurs softly. "That was the time to stand beside you and support you, but never push any type of big, emotional decision."

"She would have liked you." You tell him quietly, masking the slight sniffle that always threatens to invade when your mom comes up in conversation. "She did this weird thing...every morning she'd put the coffee pot on and go out to the garden while it brewed. I don't know how she always had enough flowers every single day for a new vase, but there were always fresh flowers on the kitchen table when I came down for breakfast. So, the fact that you showed up at my door with flowers would have put you in her good books immediately."

"Then I'm extra glad that I brought them." Marcus tells you, walking up to the ticket booth and pausing the conversation long enough to purchase two tickets to the movie from the teenage girl behind the glass. Once he has them in hand, he turns to you and offers you the ticket he had gotten for you. "Maybe one day I'll get to meet her and bring her the most beautiful flowers I can find." He is obviously talking about visiting her grave with you, but it's pretty clear that your mother meant the world to you.

"Sorry." Sniffling slightly, you shake off the layer of melancholy and accept the ticket from his hand. "Didn't mean to bring the mood so far down. I just don't want you to think I'm commitment phobic or something. I didn't make it down the aisle for a very good reason."

"Baby." It's almost natural that the term of endearment comes from his mouth, especially at this moment. "You have nothing to apologize for." He assures you, reaching for your hand and lacing his fingers with yours, and giving them a small squeeze. "Good, bad, sad, I want to know all about you." He leans in and kisses the side of your head. "Would a buttered popcorn, some Milk Duds and a large Coke help lift your spirits?"

The softness that rolls through you - the sweet little pet name, the touch of his hand, his lips, everything together - has you leaning against him all over again. Face to face, this time, and it means you can smile up at him and find out the exact shade of brown his eyes are when they're all soft around the edges like they are now. "Make it Junior Mints, and you've got yourself a deal."

“Done.” He’ll let you eat all of those, mint and chocolate never mixed with him, but he would buy two boxes for the smile on your face. “A large popcorn, a box of Junior Mints and two Cokes.” He orders when you reach the concession stand before he turns to you. “Anything else you want, baby?”

"That's more than enough." You promise him, both because it's absolutely true and also because you're not about to pout and request cuddles in front of the teenage cinema employee currently bored by your entire existence.

He gives you a smile before turning back to them with a smile. “That’s it.” He pays and hands you one of the Cokes and the Junior Mints while he takes the tub of popcorn and his own coke before leading you over to the butter station. “A lot of butter or a little?”

"I am routinely yelled at for drowning my popcorn," you tell him seriously. "So put as much on as you want."

He catches his tongue between his teeth and grins at you. “Are you sure I wasn’t supposed to meet you at that bar?” He asks, knowing that he would have approached you just as easily as he had Amanda and apparently you were a better fit. “We are going to need napkins.”

Reaching past him, you grab an exaggerated stack of napkins and tuck them in your hand along with the candy box. "I think we definitely were supposed to meet in that bar." Once the facts of the situation had started to sink in - and the conversation since then - you're willing to admit that there is an element of destiny or fate of some kind at play. There are just too many coincidences surrounding the whole thing.

Marcus cackles gleefully as the butter dispenser spurts again and again all over the kernels. “Remember how Amanda hated this?” He asks, shaking his head. “Always wanted plain popcorn.”

"Lecture upon lecture about cholesterol." Seeing even a little of Marcus's catharsis through being able to vent about her is somewhere on the fence between kind of cute and wildly entertaining, and you love this level of freedom on him. "What is life without a little fun? A movie without buttered popcorn? Nachos without ungodly amounts of cheese and pickled jalapeños?"

Marcus moans, rolling his eyes in pleasure. “Fuck yes.” He snickers. “We had one of those chocolate fondue fountain things? I definitely put that amazingly nasty canned nacho cheese in it during game day parties. Just hold the chip under the cheese.”

"Marcus Pike." You deadpan his name, so he looks at you curiously. "That may be the sexiest thing anyone has ever said to me."

“It’s official.” He shakes his head, and his face is splitting in two from the force of his grin. “You’re my soulmate.”

"Come on." Your cheek heat deeply until your face is practically on fire, and you can feel yourself go shy at the honesty in his only slight tease. "Let's go find a seat and take an astonishingly cute picture before the lights go down."

“Perfect.” Marcus follows you into the theater and tells you to pick wherever you want to sit, secretly happy when you want the next to back row.

"Get the popcorn in the picture," you snicker, wiggling around in the tight movie theater seats as the two of you try to find a decent way to pose for this silly photo.

He loves the way you think. Stretching his arm out so he can snap the pic. It takes a couple of tries, but eventually there is one really great one. “There it is.”

"We'll see if she has anything to say about that in a couple of hours." You're absolutely certain beyond a doubt that Amanda's need to be in the middle of gossip will prevail, and Marcus will probably have a few texts and you'll have a friend request by the time the movie is over.

“You are evil, and I love it.” Marcus tells you as he captions the picture and posts it on his timeline before he turns off the phone completely.

"We dealt with enough of her bullshit, she can handle a little fun from us." When you settle back into your seat, you have no desire to do any of the vaguely uncertain mincing around and instead just lean into his side. You want to be beside him, and you won't apologize for it.

Marcus lifts his arm and puts it around your shoulder. Never happier than this moment in how candid the two of you had been with each other. “Popcorn?” He asks as the lights dim.

"Well, we didn't just get it for the picture." With a grin, you grab a few kernels off the top of the tub and offer them to him, fully aware of the intimacy of the gesture.

There is a moment where he just looks at you, amazed at how easy all of this is with you before he leans forward and opens his mouth for you to feed him the popcorn, closing his mouth around your fingers and making sure to suck the buttery richness off of the tips before he pulls his head back.

Alright. Well. There’s no way you’re going to be able to concentrate on the movie now and you absolutely brought that upon yourself. Hoping Marcus didn’t register too much of the flash of heat in your eyes, you ease yourself back into your seat and under his arm as the credits begin to roll.

The movie starts, but all Marcus can think about is you. Every time you shift slightly, it's to bring yourself closer to him and he can't say that he hates it. The movie plays, almost in the background he's so hyper aware of you and every time you reach for the popcorn, his own hand bumps yours as you both seemingly have the same sense of timing. "I'm starting to think you're doing it on purpose." He teases, leaning in to murmur softly in your ear.

“Me?” You whisper, batting innocent eyelashes at him. “I am innocent and pure and am not at all enjoying the small touches.” Just pointing it out tells him how much you are enjoying them, and hopefully lets him know how borderline giddy you are.

"God, I hope not." Marcus whispers back playfully and leaning in a bit more so that his nose is almost touching yours. "I have a firm rule of never kissing someone innocent and pure on the first date and I was really looking forward to that first kiss I am planning."

“Oo, there’s a plan?” You raise an eyebrow at him, grateful there’s no one sitting nearby to shush your whispered flirting. “So, I’d better not close the gap and do it myself right now, huh?” You wouldn’t, not if he’s been thinking about it enough to have an actual idea of how it will happen. But it’s fun to tease.

"I mean...you are always welcome to close the gap and do it now." Marcus hums. "But I was honestly thinking that it would be even better if it were when we were both full and there was the taste of sweet wine on your lips, maybe the light of the moon shining down on your face. Where I can face you completely and cup your cheek. Slow to start, testing the waters before it deepens."

Swallowing the hard thump of your heartbeat, you can feel the excitement course through your veins. The promise of something new, and potentially big, hovers in the horizon and in his words. “But,” your voice is barely above a breath. “How will we know which is better unless we’ve tried both?”

"Clever girl." His eyes are soft and yearning, flickering down to your lips for a moment before looking back up at your own soft orbs. He tilts his head slightly in invitation, offering you his lips but not demanding anything. This next step was yours to take if you want to.

The world seems to slow, in that beautiful way it only does when something wonderful is about to happen, and the faded dialogue of the movie filling in the background like Marcus is your own personal screen idol. It takes only a small turn off your head to nudge his nose with your own, eyes flicking up to find his lids heavy and hazy as you lean forward imperceptibly to press your lips to his.

There is something sweet and yet so incredibly titillating about the buttery, salty taste of your lips. He sighs slightly and his lashes flutter as he closes his eyes and leans in more firmly into the kiss.

It’s adolescent, to be sharing your first kiss in the back of a movie theater over a tub of buttery popcorn and sticky-sweet soda, and you sort of love that about it. The moment is relaxed and unpretentious, with the hum of excitement running all through it as Marcus presses back against your soft approach and you happily sigh to deepen the first moment of physical intimacy between you. He forgets that you are in public, forgets that there is a movie playing on the screen in front of you. Everything but the feel of your lips on his fades away into the background.

With the way he molds so perfectly against you, it would be so easy to go too far. To just toss up your hands and indulge, the rest of the world be damned. But you remind yourself that it’s early days. Just the beginning. And there can be so much more if this to come.

You pull back gently, reluctantly, and feel yourself mourn the loss of his touch immediately as you’re nearly panting for the breath he’s stolen from you. “I…um…wow…”

“Wow, is right.” Marcus gives you an almost goofy grin.

“The moonlight and sweet wine have a lot to live up to, later.” You tell him with a sly smirk, before settling into his side again. Teasing Marcus is easy and fun - comfortable as well as exciting. Something you hope you’ll never get used to. Teasing him and kissing him are very similar endeavors.

“I will have to bring my A game to top that kiss, but I think I can.” His fingers brush the skin of your arm gently, making you shiver. He hums, knowing that it’s not cold that makes you react like that, but he uses it as an excuse to lean close again. “Let me know if you need my jacket, beautiful.”

“Just you, handsome.” You both know it’s not the chill of the air conditioning making goosebumps raise on your skin, and you offer him another piece of popcorn from your fingers. “Just you.”

He smirks and takes the popcorn again, this time making sure to twirl his tongue around your fingers as if your digits were your clit and he was treating it to his singular attention.

“Tease,” you murmur under your breath, acting like you’re upset about it but you’re honestly not in the least. Turned on, however? Oh yes.

“Not teasing.” Marcus responds smoothly. “Promising.”

You’re proud of yourself for not whimpering, but there’s no way he misses the way you shift in your seat and gently squeeze your thighs together in anticipation. Your ex-fiancé wasn’t a bad lover or anything, but oral just wasn’t his time to shine. Cumming on Marcus’s tongue sounds like heaven. “I hope you keep your promises, then.” Not that you doubt him. Of anyone in the world, you fully believe Marcus Pike keeps every promise he makes.

“It might be my favorite thing in the world.” He lifts a brow at you and smirks slightly. “And it’s been a long time since I’ve gotten to indulge.”

“Fuck…” That’s definitely a whimper, and you’re grateful no one is nearby to judge you for it. “Well, I’m happy to break that dry spell for you.”

“We just have to survive this movie and dinner.” He murmurs softly. “I’d already taken tomorrow off. Do you have to work?”

“No.” You’re all but shaking your head, ready to promise him you can sleep in and stay naked if that’s what he wants. All he has to do is say the word. Tipping your head back, you find his soft eyes watching you. “And Naomi’s staying with Madison tonight. So no roommate, either.”

“Hmmmm.” He smiles and leans in. He doesn’t kiss you, but he does nuzzle your nose with his. “So I don’t have to worry about you being too loud then.”

“With what they put me through, they deserve payback.” You grumble softly, breath catching at the unexpectedly dirty reply.

“I’ve heard.” He snorts. “Our bedroom walls are shared. “Once I get my bed, we might have to have a competition.”

“We can trash my second-hand bed with a contest, not your brand new one.” You know what that big, beautiful four poster is costing him, and you won’t let him waste that kind of investment.

He huffs and sends you a cocky smirk. “I have to test out how durable it is.” He teases, body extremely interested in this conversation.

The slickness between your legs is nearly fogging your brain with your nod and murmur: “For science.”

“For science.” He agrees and tries to look back at the screen with a sigh. “So…I have a naughty idea.” He poses. “What if we leave the movie now and go get dinner.” He knows he hadn’t watched any of the movie up on the screen if he was honest with himself. Too focused on you.

Flicking your eyes back up to the screen, you have to admit that if you hadn’t seen it a dozen times already, you would have no idea what was going on - finding him much more engrossing than Norma Desmond could ever hope to be. “Very naughty.” You agree with a grin. “Let’s go.”

The two of you giggle as you make your way down the stairs and out of the theater. Marcus only feels slightly bad about tossing a nearly full drink and popcorn, but he's too interested in getting you alone where you don't have to worry about bothering others with your conversation. "Note to self, watch movies at home. When I get a TV."

“Ah, electronics. The one thing I am absolutely useless in shopping for.” Now that you’re out in the lobby, your voice almost feels odd at full volume again. “But yes, you do need a tv.”

"I am an excellent judge on TVs." Marcus tells you snootily. "If I can turn it on and watch TV, it's good."

“Well, I can’t fault your logic.” You shake your head at him as you make your way through the lobby. “But you’ve forgotten. In order to be good, a TV must also be very big.”

He snorts and throws you a mildly dirty look as you exit the theater and make your way into the dusky night. The sun is starting to set and he chuckles. "How about a good mid-sized tv that knows how to work really well?" He bargains, aware that he's not talking about TVs at all.

“Oh, we’re talking about TVs.” Throwing him an exaggerated wink, you nod wisely. “Yeah, function over form, every time.”

His hand on your back flexes slightly, resisting the urge to reach down and pinch your ass. If this wasn't your first date, he might actually do it, but he needs to somewhat mind his manners. "So where would you like to eat dinner, beautiful?" He asks you softly, wondering if you have any favorite places or anywhere you've wanted to try.

“I’m not picky.” The stroll back out to the parking lot is lazy and the warmth of his hand on your back lulls you against his side yet again. “You mentioned steak earlier. We’ve talked about barbecue. There’s a good Italian place I know. Anything it’s fine.”

"Ehhhhh." Marcus would prefer that you pick but he knows that it might just lead to a longer conversation about the merits of each place and he doesn't want to take longer than he has to in order to get you sat down to wine and dine. "How about Chama Gaucha?" He asks, wondering if you would like the Brazilian steakhouse. "They even have a salad bar." He offers enticingly.

“This is going to be a thing, isn’t it?” You wrinkle your nose at him, sticking out your tongue for good effect. “Brazilian barbecue it is.”

"I'm compromising." He sticks his tongue out at you. "I heard that is healthy in relationships."

“Funny how often we used to get those lectures when we were always the ones bending over backwards.” With another heavy eye roll, you take the last few steps to his car a little faster - his long legs meaning he’s already beaten you there. “It’s a meat and veggies compromise, but from how much you obsessed over picking out wine glasses, I’m guessing they have a killer wine list.”

"I have heard they do." Marcus had never been there himself, but it was one of the restaurants that he had been wanting to try. He just hadn't yet because it's not any fun going to a place like that by yourself. "Hopefully we will find out."

“Hopefully we will.”

As always, Marcus holds your door for you to get in and settle in before he shuts it and climbs into the driver’s side. He starts the car and pulls out of the theater parking lot so he can navigate towards the restaurant. He has always had a pretty good sense of direction and exploring the city for work had helped him get a good idea of the overall layout and where a lot of things were located. "What type of wine do you like?"

“Do I lose points if I say ‘cheap’?” You offer him what you hope is a charming smile. “I’ve matured only slightly beyond my college Arbor Mist obsession. So…I guess that’s anything sweet and fruity.”

He raises a brow at that. Amanda had been very picky about wine, and they had spent several vacations in Napa Valley as a result. "I'm guessing a shiraz might be the best starting point."

“I know, I have the palate of an 18-year-old sometimes. It’s awful.” You shake your head in defeat.

"No, I'm just wondering how you and Amanda got on with that." He chuckles. "She is...rather snooty about wine."

The huff that pushes out of you is audible. “I pretended really hard.” You tell him quietly. “But…I don’t want to pretend with you.”

"Does it help that I like beer better than wine?" He asks, sending you a side glance. "And a good tequila is the best."

“You’ll show me what you like, and I’ll show you what I like.” That’s how it should work. At least to you. No pretending and no lying. If it goes beyond tonight, anyway. “If you want to, I mean.”

"Oh, I'm just thinking about how to stock my fridge when you come over to my place." He throws you a smirk. "If you want Arbor Mist, I'll make sure that you have whatever flavor is your favorite. If you like IPAs..." He grimaces. "You're on your own there." He teases and wrinkles his nose playfully.

“These days it’s more like shandies and Riesling.” You relax measurably in your seat, that unhappy flash of nerves fading away. In its place, you send him a smirk. “You never did tell me your favorite cheeses.”

He tosses you a mildly guilty grin. "Is this date over if I tell you that it's goat cheese?" He snickers.

You half-snort, covering your giggle with one hand. “It would be off if you were dating my father.”

"Well then I guess it's a good thing that my favorite cheese is Havarti." He chuckles and can't help but reach over and take your hand. "That or fresh mozzarella."

His fingers laced through yours are warm and weighty, and you raise the back of his hand to your lips to press a kiss to his skin. “You teach me about good wine, and I’ll teach you how to make fresh cheese,” you bargain, truly believing that the more you share, the better things will be.

"Ohhhh I like that." Marcus grins. "How do you feel about charcuterie boards?" He asks seriously. He had gone with Amanda to a class on how to set up the best boards for parties and his ex-wife had been obsessed with them. As long as there was jalapeño jelly and berries on it, he was in heaven.

“Honestly that’s most of what I eat for lunch,” you admit without a hint of shame. “Just me and my little charcuterie board at my desk with a sweet tea? That’s heaven, baby.”

He hums in approval and nods. "So, I'm envisioning dates on my new couch with a charcuterie board and a new wine while we cuddle in our new blankets."

“That sounds like the perfect rainy night.” The vision of a storm sounding outside the house while you curl up in a little blanket fort of your own making is about as sweet as he is. “Date night at home.”

"I'm glad you like that idea." He gives you a sweet look as he stops at the red light. He's only about six hundred feet away from the turn for the restaurant. "Your favorite version of a date is what?" He asks.

“Anything that involves learning.” It seems like a cop-out answer, you know that, but you squeeze his hand quickly and explain. “Teaching each other things, taking little classes, hitting a museum, or trying something that’s new to both of us.” You shrug slightly. “Nerd dates.”

“Damn.” Marcus hadn’t thought you could be any more perfect, but you continue to surprise him.

“Damn?” Your head quirks in his direction as he pulls into the restaurant’s parking lot.

“Just admiring how perfect you are.” He tells you as he parks and shuts the engine off.

“Oh, please,” you roll your eyes playfully.

“Seriously, you said the magic words.” He promises.

Willing to admit that might be the case, you reluctantly let his hand go so he can put his car in park. “Do you have the same answer, then?”

"I have to admit I might be asking you to accompany me to a few gallery showings." He winks before he gets out so he can come around and let you out of the passenger side.

“Perfect.” You slip out of his car once more and happily accept his hand when it lingers by your side. “I can learn more about art.”

Inside the restaurant smells delicious and Marcus' mouth waters. "Table for two please." Marcus smiles at the host and squeezes your hand.

The genuinely bored looking host shows you to a booth where you are immediately greeted by your waitress with a smile and attitude as bright as the sun, and you fluster when she explicitly welcomes you out for what is clearly your date night. “How long y’all been together?” She asks, chattering away. “If ya don’t mind me askin’?”

Marcus looks over at you and then checks his watch. "Nine hours now?" He asks, looking over at you for confirmation. "At least that's how long we've known each other."

“Well, shoot.” The waitress laughs when both you and Marcus do, and easily excuses herself to grab Marcus a complete wine list when he asks for it.

“Nine hours strong.” You grin at him with flushed cheeks.

"I mean, I have to say that we are doing really well for nine hours." He tells you. "We've found a mutual background and established our communication."

“And you were the talk of the store after you left.” You tell him with a grin, knowing that it’s completely beside the point but still finding it fun.

"How so?" The waitress returns with the wine menu and Marcus quickly picks out one of his favorite sweet reds and looks towards you for the answer.

“Anyone redoing an entire house is always worth talking about.” You reason, taking a sip from the water glass in front of you. “Plus…I came back from lunch grinning like an idiot…”

"Grinning like an idiot, huh?" He asks, grinning like one himself right now. "Kind of like how I absolutely wasn't dancing around my condo like an idiot while I unpacked all the shit I bought from this pretty sexy girl I met at the store?"

“Kind of exactly like that.” The image he presents with that is playful and dreamy, and your grin spreads wider. “I’m almost afraid to ask if you’re a good dancer.”

"Formal? I won't step on your toes." Marcus admits. "Amanda always said that for someone who could fuck I had zero rhythm."

“Thank God.” You groan dramatically. “For a second I thought you were going to say you were a childhood ballroom champ or something. Considering you’re already pretty much perfect, that would have just been completely over the top.”

Marcus throws his head back and laughs, making the waitress grin as she comes up to the table again with the bottle to pour glasses for both of you. "Well at least you two are enjoying yourselves." She says, sending you a wink.

“It’s refreshing to find out that he’s not textbook perfect, that’s all.” You shake your head at the waitress as if to tell her how ridiculous it is that he is so close to perfect, and listen with interest while she explains exactly how your very unique dinner will be served.

“That sounds incredible.” Marcus looks over to you and nods towards the buffet. “You want to go get your salad? I hear they also have an amazing lobster bisque.”

“There is nothing about this meal that doesn’t sound perfect.” And amusingly, it even hits on the ‘nerd’ qualification for a date, because you’ve learned an entire new genre of steakhouse operations.

He slides out of the booth and cheekily holds his hand out to you. “My lady, heaven on a buffet awaits. Shall we feast?”

You barely manage to cover your mouth, acutely aware that the couples at the surrounding tables won’t find your snort as endearing as Marcus does, and you reach to take his hand. “We shall,” you agree, mimicking his tone between giggles.

He helps you up and holds on to your waist while you both shuffle over to the buffet. Cheese slices, stuffed olives, pasta salads and everything to make a real salad are accompanied by the bisque, some rice and black beans with plantains that smells amazing, and the little cheese breads that you’ll later find out are amazing. Marcus groans at the plate piled high and grins at you. “This isn’t even the meat selection yet.” He reminds you.

“We’re going to pass out as soon as you park your car at home,” you predict, admitting to yourself that it would be fairly hilarious if it happened.

“Shit.” He huffs, shaking his head. “That just means that I’ve got to make up for it when we wake up.”

“Baby, a good date and a good sleep cuddled up together isn’t anything that needs to be made up for.” Of course, you’re fully and eagerly looking forward to having him in your bed, but you don’t want to give him the mistaken impression that it’s the only interest you have in him.

He flashes you a wink as both of you make your way back to the table. “So you don’t want to wake up with having your clit sucked on. Got it.”

“Oh, fuck off.” You hiss under your breath, with an absolute pout in your voice. “I’m just trying to behave! God, that thought is going to haunt me….”

His laugh is a little dark, a little mean, but he loves the way that you pout over the idea. Both of you sit back down and immediately a server comes over with steaks on a spit to ask if you would like some. Marcus nodes right away and holds out his other plate for the man.

Dinner is an elaborate, delicious, substantive dance, and you’re predictably stuffed by the end of it. The wine Marcus chose is far beyond your education level and a little extra tasty because of it, making you feel that much more spoiled. Halfway through your dinner you had both agreed that you would have to do this again, and that you would be tracking down a copycat recipe for the cheese bread to try making at home. You haven’t stopped laughing, teasing, or grinning like smitten teenagers all night. It is, in every way, an absolutely perfect night.

There’s a light breeze as he walks you to the car. Both of you are almost overly full, but it had been worth it. He looks over at you with a smile at the way you automatically turn your head and look at him. “I think that we can call this a success.” He comments lightly, swinging your hand that is encompassed in his.

“Without hesitation.” It’s past chilly and has officially become cold, and you tuck your free arm around yourself for a little extra warmth on the way to the car. “And I think we can both safely skip breakfast because we’ll still be full in the morning.”

Marcus doesn’t care that it’s only another hundred feet to the car. He slips his hand out of yours and starts shrugging off his leather jacket and stopping you so he can hold it out for you to put on. “Here.”

“I’m fine.” You protest, but it’s hollow and you both know it. The jacket is around your shoulders before you can even finish the thought and the warmth it retains from his body makes you shiver counterintuitively before you start to warm up. “I…thank you…serves me right for trying to be cute above all else.”

“You are cute. And now I get to be a gentleman and give you my jacket so you aren’t cold when I kiss you.” He smirks and turns you towards the car again.

“Oh right,” you hum, as though you could ever forget exactly how amazing it had been to kiss him. “We still need to compare and contrast.”

He waits until he gets you to the car, the door right at your elbow when he turns to you and cups your cheek just like it said he would. There is an anticipation in this air, and he takes just a few seconds to absorb the sight of you looking at him. The shine of the moon on your face is perfect where he had parked away from the light posts and yet he could see the want in your eyes clearly. "Beautiful." He whispers before he leans in and kisses you with far more assertion than he would have if that kiss in the movie theater hadn't happened.

His version of a first kiss is definitely smoother. You’ll give him that. Smooth and deep and delicious - and not just because of the wine. One of your hands easily finds its way to his chest, feeling the way his heart beats out of control when you begin to kiss him back.

He softly encourages you to open up, tongue sliding along your lips before you open your mouth and let him inside. Marcus can't help the groan that rises from his chest when his tongue touches against yours, almost shyly at first before moving with more confidence and determination as the kiss progresses.

Completely enveloped in the moment, a plane could have crashed in the restaurant parking lot, and you wouldn’t have noticed beyond thinking that the earth shaking under your feet was from how good and right kissing Marcus feels. His tongue slides against yours and his breathing stutters and his heart skips a beat in his chest. His hand curls around the nape of your neck and he tugs you just a fraction closer. It's magical, the feeling of your lips against his and for a moment, he never wants this kiss to end.

The rest of the world may not exist, and would not have at all, except for a distant cat call from another part of the parking lot and you break from Marcus with an embarrassed giggle. Marcus chuckles and turns to give the person a wave before he turns back to you. “Home, beautiful?” He asks softly, reaching for the door handle to the car.

“Home.” The fingers you have twined in his shirt pull him back to you for another, shorter kiss before pulling away fully.

He hums and holds the door open for you, not closing it until you are completely inside before hurrying around the front so he can jump behind the wheel. Nerves and excitement are thrumming in his system but he’s not going to assume he’s being invited into your bed, not even after being told. You can always change your mind and he will respect that.

In the front seat of his car, wrapped up in his leather jacket, your lips twist into a smile when he climbs back in beside you. “I think we have to call it a tie,” you tell him sheepishly. “Since both kisses were definitely, wow.”

“Yes, they were.” Marcus agrees, turning the engine over and picking up your hand quickly to press a kiss to the back of it before letting it go so he can put the car into gear.

“I guess we’ll just have to collect more data. You know…experiment.” You squeeze his hand lightly in yours. “For science.”

He throws you a small smirk and nods. "For science." He agrees before he decides to change the subject. "So, what do you normally do when you get off of work? Your wind down routine?"

“Depends on the day.” Hands still linked together, your fingers tangle easily in his and keep him close while your heart beats louder and faster. “If I had a day shift, I’ll bring a book out to the garden before I start thinking about making dinner. But if I worked a later shift then I’ll just figure out something fast for dinner and turn on the TV.” You chuckle awkwardly. “That makes me sound really boring. Maybe I am. But I live with my best friend so it’s not like I’m running out for drinks with her every night. We do that in the garden.”

"Then I guess I'm boring too." Marcus assures you. "I'm too old to try and go out every night. Especially after a long day at work."

“I would imagine that your days are a lot more demanding than mine.” Which is nothing against your job, just an acknowledgement of the fact that his job is higher stress.

"Sleeping in on days off is a particularly favorite hobby of mine." He admits, knowing that those have been few and far between the last few months. "That's why I wanted a good bed. I try to make it a rule not to get up except to pee until at least ten-thirty."

“Sleep in and drip dry?” You guess, raising a scandalous eyebrow at him and flashing a grin.

"I know." Marcus rolls his eyes playfully. "If I was an eccentric billionaire I would live on a private tropical island where I can sleep with the ocean breeze flowing over me and never wear clothes again. Just go for a swim and pad around nude."

“Oh noooo…” Laughing along with him, you won’t deny that you’re very interested to know exactly what that visual would look like. “Relaxation. That sounds just horrible. How will you ever survive?”

"Doesn't it?" He grins. "Nothing but idle time and sunshine. I just need to find a beautiful girl who wants to roam an island naked with me. Plus...you know..." He huffs. "Become a billionaire."

“Well when you start taking applications for companions, let me know.” You throw him a wink and your smile stays sunny.

He waggles his eyebrows. "Play your cards right and it'll be the only application that I accept."

“Sounds like a hell of a retirement plan.” And to your delight, definitely shows off his Southern California origin.

The rest of the drive back to the condos is relatively quick and he enjoys the warmth of your hand in his. Once he pulls into his parking spot, he looks over at you with a smile. "I have to say it was a success."

Every mile closer to home is an extra beat your heart has skipped, and an extra knot of anticipation coiled in your stomach. “Are you…um…do you want to come in?”

He honestly expected the offer, but when it comes, it still makes a slow smile light up his face. "I would like that." He murmurs, opening his door to walk around to let you out of the car for the last time tonight. It's just good planning that he had grabbed condoms when he had picked up the flowers, not willing to assume that protection was solely provided by you and hopeful that this would end up exactly here. When you get out, he leans in and opens the middle console to grab the box and turns around with a slight blush on his face.

“My very prepared Boy Scout.” You grin, managing to not giggle at his slight embarrassment. “I’m clean and on the pill, though, so it’s up to you if you want to use a condom.”

He’s not even ashamed for how quickly he throws the condoms back into the car and slams the door shut. “What condoms?” He asks with a grin.

“Inside.” Tugging on his hand, you practically pull him across the side-by-side driveways while you dig your keys out of your purse.

He loves the urgency in your pace, the slight fumble with the keys and he uses your concentration against you. Now that this is a go, his hands slide up your thighs and under your skirt, not immediately going to your cloth covered core but teasing as he feels you. "Remember what I said." He murmurs in your ear as you try to unlock the door. "It's my favorite thing to do."

“Jesus fuck, Marcus,” you groan, finally jamming your key into the door. “If you’re still wearing clothing by the time we hit the bedroom, it’s getting torn off.”

He can't help but chuckle and his teeth worry your ear lobe, making you shudder when you finally twist the lock and practically throw yourself through the door, taking him with you.

The number of times you’ve had to wade through Naomi and Madison’s shit when you get home late means you could care less if a few pieces of evidence are strewn around. Your purse and Marcus’s jacket are left on the edge of the sofa by the door immediately, and the instinct you have to kick your shoes off is only stopped by the fact that your inches-high sandals are buckled on. Hell, the only reason you’d worn anything high was because Marcus is so tall, but height won’t matter once you tumble into bed.

Marcus smirks when you tilt to one side and reach for the side of your shoes. His own have already been kicked off so there is only one purpose he has for sinking down to his knees - besides making your cunt clench at the lascivious look he gives you. His fingers dance over your skin while he works the shoes off your feet.

“Is that an act of service, or a superhuman sense of smell?” You tease, and can’t resist threading a few fingers through his thick hair when he smirks up at you.

"I can just start right here." He winks up at you before he slides his nose up your thigh and pushes your dress higher.

Your hand shoots out to grab the wall and you whimper, feeling his breath on your soaked core. “It’s been…a while,” you confess quietly. “Since I did any of this.”

He knows he should wait for your bedroom. Despite what you said, there is always the possibility of your roommate and his old academy friend coming home and catching you, but fuck if he can care about that right now. He can smell you. The honeyed tang of you makes his mouth water and once the sandals are off your feet he's reaching up under your dress and dragging your panties down with an eager hunger that has his tongue buried in your core before you can even spread your legs wider.

“Marcus.” His broad hands and the wall keep you steady, which is a godsend for your knees as they threaten to give out under his beautiful assault. “Holy shit, baby…”

He moans at the first burst of your flavor on his tongue, and he pushes your thighs apart to work his jaw under you so he can access more of your cunt. Not even in your house for five minutes and he's on his knees for the beautiful woman in front of him, but he would have it no other way. If you only knew how he had wanted to cancel dinner and just bring you back here to dine on you.

There’s something beyond bliss in the way you’re able to trust him instinctively. Knowing he won’t let anything but pleasure happen between you tonight gives you permission to let go. To let his name drip from your lips and your hips cant toward his mouth to offer him every inch of you.

Once your hips jerk forward and your fingers tug on his hair, Marcus loses a bit of control. He's not feral but there is a definite push to make sure that you know that he is going to make sure you have the night of your life and not regret a second of being here with him. His mouth opens wider, and his tongue becomes stiffer as he pushes it up inside you and still manages to use his larger nose to tease your clit.

Curses and praises are the real vocabulary of these moments for you, never having been heavy into dirty talk. With partners in the past - with Amanda in particular - it was almost a comical effort to find things to praise in the bedroom. With Marcus, you can tell already, it will be hard to shut up. It's not a chorus of oh baby, but your hips rolling and grinding down desperately for more. Everything he's willing to give your clenching, aching cunt is loving attention that you'll give back to him tenfold when you wake him up in the morning with his cock down your throat.

He loves how responsive you are. How steadily you roll your hips up and grind them down against his mouth. He eats it up just like he is devouring you. His eyes are half closed, fixed on you and he moans into you while giving you more when you demand it, eager to feel you fall apart for him and wanting to see how you look when you do.

Your legs shake as you climb to your peak, thighs subtly tightening on Marcus's ears, and you can feel him hum into your core. "So close," you manage to gasp out, fingernails biting into his scalp when you rock against his mouth again. "Fuck, Marcus, please baby," every second is like a rocket, shooting you closer to the stars. "Suck on my clit," you beg, well aware that you are begging.

That might be his favorite sound in the world, you begging him to make you cum. He complies immediately, pulling his tongue out of you where he can move to your clit. Sealing his lips around it and sucking on it, not enough to hurt, but trying to pull your orgasm out of you with the suction of his mouth.

His name comes from somewhere deep in your chest, a place where no one's name has come from in a long enough time that it feels almost foreign. "Marcus!" Is a sound that your neighbors to your right are going to have to get used to very quickly, because the way he sucks your soul out through your clit to make you cum is your new favorite sensation.

Marcus hums, feeling your fingers tighten in his hair and the sharp tug of on his scalp making his already hard cock throb even more against this zipper. He watches your mouth fall open and loves the sexy cry of his name as it rips out of your throat like a war cry. Sucking harder, he keeps ahold of your hips, wanting to push you through it and see where your limit is at.

When he doesn't let go or ease away, your body reacts with another jolt of pleasure. Marcus is relentless, working you through the aftershocks of that first orgasm right into the crackling starbursts of a second. You have no idea when the last time was that you came this hard and it's possible that the answer is never, and as the crest of the second orgasm hits and his name falls from your lips all over again, it's abundantly obvious that no one but him will ever make you cum this hard again.

He moans, his chin soaked with your juices and it's only when you are nearly sobbing and pushing his head away that he breaks the seal of his mouth around your clit and starts to leisurely lick your fluttering hole, making sure to avoid your sensitive clit while you struggle to catch your breath.

"Fuck." Your gasping, panting for your breath morphs into a filthy little giggle when your eyes can focus again, and the sight in front of you is his nearly black pupils gazing hungrily at you from between your thighs. "Th-that was...holy shit, baby..."

He licks his lips and rocks back on his heels to push up to his feet, taking your waist and tugging you into his arms. "Are you ready to go to bed, baby?" He asks, voice heavy with lust. "I need to be inside you."

"It's cute that you think I can walk after that," you tease, even though you're pushing up on your toes to steal a hungry kiss.

He chuckles against your mouth and he doesn't hesitate to pull you up, hands coming under your thighs to pull you up so that your legs can wrap around his waist. "What bedroom is yours upstairs?" He demands, thankful that he has the basic layout, just flipped, in his own place.

"End of the hall." The heels of your feet meet the small of his back and both of your arms come around his shoulders to hold on tight.

He hums and squeezes your ass playfully as he starts up the steps. "So, did I live up to my promise?" He asks smugly, knowing the answer must be a resounding yes.

“I hope you like wake-up blowjobs.” You hum against his throat, sucking and nipping gently at his pulse. “It’s my favorite way to say thank you.”

"I— uh," he gives a choked, embarrassed sound. "It's been, shit— uh, three years since I've had one? Nearly four."

"So it wasn't just me." When you raise your head to look at him you're already at the top of the stairs but he doesn't set you down, rather looks at you quizzically. "Amanda hated eating pussy. I guess it wasn't my pussy she didn't like, but giving head in general."

He snorts and gives you a small shake of his head. "I'd get a half assed effort on my birthday, but she would be so reluctant, like she was doing me a favor." He knows that it's not exactly proper to talk badly about another lover, but this is one that you had in common and there were obvious hurt feelings there where his ex-wife is involved. "I just started turning it down. Didn't want it held over my head for two months." He's still walking down the hallway while he talks and makes his way into your bedroom. "Didn't stop her from loving when I went down on her."

"That's because you're a fucking Olympian," you tell him with a shiver. "Marcus Pike, Greek God of Cunnilingus." He pauses just inside your bedroom door and you shrug at him. "Erik - my ex-fiancé - wiggled his way out of it by arguing that I didn't have to give him blowjobs, but since I like it, it's different. And since he didn't like eating me out, I just stopped bringing it up at all." With a slight huff, you shrug again and reach for the buttons on his shirt. "Looks like we get to enjoy each other's spoils."

“Idiot.” He flushes slightly at the Greek god comment and walks you over to the bed. “Well, any time you want to have me suck on your pretty little pussy, you just let me know.” He tells you before he leans down and drops you on the mattress and reaches for his pants.

"Don't tell me that," you gently warn him. Sitting up on your mattress, you tug your dress up over your head and unclip your bra, tossing them toward the slightly open door of your closet so they land somewhere nearby on the floor. "Or you'll be between my legs every second."

“Someone’s greedy.” He teases, moaning when you are already nude and spread out on the bed and he’s barely shoved his jeans down. He kicks them off and finishes unbuttoning his shirt to shrug it off before he hooks his thumbs under his boxer brief hem and pushes them down so his cock springs free.

The way you whimper at that - the teasing observation and the sight of his purple, leaking length - is absolutely depraved. "Fuck yes I am," you agree, because honestly to deny it would just be a lie. "How do you want me, Marcus?"

He wraps his hand around the base and lets out an obscene moan when he squeezes it, relieving the pressure and yet also adding to it. “How do you want be fucked the first time?” He asks, starting to slowly stroke himself. “We’re going to end up fucking every possible way, but this first time? You want to see my eyes or you want to have me take you from behind?”

You revel in the fact that there is something very real and tangible connecting the both of you along with all of the near misses and coincidences. Something that you won't dare think of words for, but makes your heart clench in your chest when you reach for him. "I want to see you."

“Thank fuck.” Marcus groans, taking the two short steps to the bed and climbing into it with you. Not hesitating before he’s crawling over your body and slotting himself between your thighs and starts at your navel to kiss his way up.

That makes you almost snort, but the gasp of a moan on your lips washes it away. Desperate for him to explore, your own hands knead and pinch your tits so you can watch every single move he makes without directing him. Spreading your legs wider for him, even the small breeze in the room is enough to make your clit ache again as the cool air skates over it and his lips trail up your torso. His teeth nip and scrape over your skin and he knocks your hand out of the way with a quick, rushed move to take over teasing your breast. Moaning when he drags his tongue over the pebbled tip before he starts to suck on it.

"Greedy." The same word he used to describe you works just as well for him, and you would have a giggle about it if you weren't gasping under his talented tongue's attention again. "M-Marcus..." The way his long body is sprawled out, and the way he has you pinned to the bed while he devours your tits, it's impossible for you to get your eager little fingers around his length. "Marcus, god, baby please, please, I need to feel you. Need you inside me."

“So good.” He pulls off your tit to switch to the other. “When. You. Beg.” Every word is accompanied by the bite of his teeth, hard enough to make you gasp. Only to sooth it with his tongue before he kisses up your chest and neck. “You need my cock inside you, beautiful?” He rasps in your ear. “Wrap your legs around me and I’ll give you what you want.”

Your reaction is instant, legs twining tightly around his waist to pull him in close, and you reach between your bodies to finally be able to stroke his cock a few times as you line up his throbbing head at your entrance. "Please fuck me," you whine in his ear, just to feel him shudder.

“Oh fuck.” Marcus chokes out pitifully at the feeling of your hand wrapped around him. Ready to blow right then. His fists are bunched tightly near your head while he starts to roll his hips forward, feeding an inch, then two into you. There’s a second pause where he lets out the lewdest moan he has ever made and then his hips snap forward until he is buried to the hilt in your pussy.

Sobbing at the feeling of being so full, your thighs tighten on his hips to keep him buried inside you while your cunt flutters around him, adjusting to his size and the burn of having him inside you. "Jesus, fuck," the curses fall easily from your lips while you hold him inside, until you give an experimental roll of your hips that makes you both groan in unison.

“Goddamn.” Marcus pants, kissing your ear and your jaw. “Please tell me that I can move?” He begs softly, needing to plunge into your hot, tight cunt again.

You whine, kissing him hard, and nod a little. "Fuck me," you beg again, much softer this time.

It’s probably a little more frantic that he normally tries to be with someone the first time. He can’t help himself, too worked up by how fucking good you feel, how right this is. His hips shuttle back and forth like the pistons on an engine, trying to keep you full of him, even as you move.

"I-I'm—" Faster than you can believe, your body is already shaking on the brink of a third orgasm. "Gonna cum, baby, oh my god." Every movement is just right - hitting just the right spots in just the right order and it's all too good.

He groans and tries to stave off his own imminently approaching orgasm. Leaning down, he presses his lips to yours while continuing the harsh pace. “Cum.” He orders.

This time when you come apart for him, your moan is poured into kissing him the way you love. Your whole body seems to bear down on him at once, thighs shaking and squeezing him inside you when you drench his cock in your release.

“Oh God.” It’s like a prayer, the way it spills out of his mouth, but this would not be allowed in church. He rolls his hips only twice more before he’s stuttering, driving deep inside you, and whining your name against your lips while he throbs, pumping you full of his spend.

"Goddamn." The word falls from your lips on a chuckle, swept away in the breathy pants for breath that you're left with after such a fast and furious pace. Not that you mind. Fucking has always been your favourite exercise. Spent muscles ache in the best possible way, and even your legs drop to the mattress from around his waist while you draw endless kisses from his lips.

There is a that sweet sense of drained relaxation that always follows but it's amplified with you. Your lips are against his and it’s a struggle to not just drop all of his weight down on you and burrow into the hot skin that is slick with perspiration and just breathe you in. Instead, he pulls out of you with ease and rolls onto his side, keeping his arm open in invitation if you want to snuggle against his chest. "Holy shit." He huffs, slightly giggly with endorphins.

The disappointment in losing his warmth only lasts a second, as you instinctively curl into his side and lay your head on his chest to connect yourselves again. “I’m glad we agree,” you giggle. And that’s the absolute truth.

He wants to stay right here with you but he’s also practical about things as well. “What’s your, um, clean up routine? Do you have a prefer?”

“I’m easy.” The accidental entendre makes you chuckle against his chest. “Quick washcloth, unless we’ve really made a mess of ourselves, and then a shared bath or shower is a thing of beauty.” Humming softly, you press a kiss to his skin and move to climb off the mattress and retrieve said washcloth. “Is that okay with you?”

"Baby, that's perfectly fine with me." He assures you, sitting up and managing to kiss your shoulder before you move out of his reach. "Honestly, I'm a pretty easy guy myself." He gives a small chuckle. "Remember, I've been housebroken."

That makes you huff indignantly, and you clean yourself up quickly before bringing a warm, damp cloth back or into the bedroom for him. “Does that mean I was dorm broken?” You ask, rolling your eyes dramatically.

"Not as badly." He teases, taking the offered rag and wiping himself clean. He gives you a small wink and stands, stretching slightly and waving away your offer to take the rag. He needs to pee, and he can put the cloth in the basket he is sure you have in your bathroom. "You got away early enough." It wasn't that Amanda was horrible, he never would have married her or been with her as long as he had if she had been, but divorce has a way of pulling the rose-colored glasses off and making someone see the truth.

“I guess I have you to thank for that.” And it makes you ache in a horrible, guilty kind of way. Even though you had never met him then and could never have saved him. “I think I would have followed that girl to the end of universe, but got my dumbass heart broken, instead.”

"I'm sorry." He flushes the toilet and washes his hands before he comes back out to you. You are back in the bed and he doesn't hesitate to climb back in beside you and pull you into his arms. "I— I promise you I didn't know. I asked. I asked if she was seeing anyone. I would never step on anyone's toes. It's not my thing." His tone hardens slightly. "I don't like cheaters."

“I’m not mad,” you promise him, sensing that this issue may run slightly deeper than his recent divorce. “I was, I won’t lie to you about that. But in the end, if she doesn’t want to be with either of us? That’s her loss.”

He blows out a breath and gives a small sigh. "It's more in what she can gain." He admits softly. He had been heartbroken enough that he hadn't really fought her on anything but there were things that she had been pissed that he couldn't give her. Things that honestly he didn't know because he had never paid attention enough to care about. His lawyer handled all that stuff and he ignored it at all costs, not liking the memories it would dredge up.

“What do you mean?” From the reticence in his voice, you’re almost afraid to ask. But since he brought it up there’s a chance he might feel like you’re the person he can actually talk to about it, and you won’t deny him that.

He strokes your back and figures that it's better to get your reaction to everything now than in the future. "I have a feeling that a lot of her attraction to me was because of who my father is." He hadn't realized until later that the night he had taken Amanda home that there was a letter from his father left out on his desk. He had planned on throwing it away before being basically told he was going out to the bar that night. It was only after they were engaged that he realized that she had expected a place in the circles that his father belonged to.

“That’s fun.” The bitter distaste in the words is clear, and you lace the fingers of your free hand through his in a small moment of physical support. “I’m guessing we’re not big fans of daddy’s?” With no stake in his life besides wanting to know him better and seeing what this is that’s clearly between you, you’re ready to be his support in whatever family bullshit exists.

"Hardly." Marcus knows that maybe the first date isn't the best time to spill family secrets, although there is that innate trust that he has in you. "My— I am the illegitimate son of a very successful businessman." He sighs. "I was raised by mother as a single parent but......they were still together when he made time for her." There is a slight edge of bitterness in his words. "His other family was not aware of my existence or hers, until my mother got sick when I was in high school."

“Oh…” There’s no sense in trying to disguise the shock in your voice, or the hurt on his behalf. Instead, you bundle him closer to you, cuddling against his side until it’s unclear if he is holding you or you are holding him. “Marcus, I’m so sorry…” You hate to ask the question, but it’s there in the air. Your mother isn’t with you anymore and apparently his isn’t, either. “If you want to talk about her, or don’t want to, I completely understand.”

He smiles at how understanding you are. "It's been a long time." He admits. "I was a senior in high school when she got sick." He tells you, looking up at the ceiling while he gathers his thoughts. "I will give him one thing, my father never let her suffer. He took care of her, loved her in his own selfish way. When— when she got sick, he tried to get the best doctors to treat her, but pancreatic cancer is...well, there was nothing to be done."

You nod dimly, remembering every single chemo and radiation treatment you ever drove your own mother to. “Cancer fucking sucks.”

"It does." Marcus hums, pulling you into his chest a little tighter and rubs your back soothingly. "It really does."

“I can’t imagine Amanda would have stuck around me much longer, if that’s what she was really after.” Though whether that hurts more or less is anyone’s guess. “I mean the farm does pretty well, but it’s still just a little family farm.”

"She was never overtly greedy at first." Marcus doesn't want to vilify her more than the truth. "But during the divorce she was not happy when she found out about the trust."

“Charming.” Settling against his chest, you sigh comfortably and tip your chin back to look at him. For two people who have known each other for around thirteen hours, the feeling of comfort and trust is overwhelming to you in the very best way. “So, Agent Marcus Pike, newly divorced and naked in bed with your next-door neighbor you only met today.” You grin, loving the soft way he looks down at you. “What do you want for your new Texas life?”

He tenses slightly, knowing that his version of happily ever after is not everyone's view. "I— so I know it's not for everyone…but I want a life." He tells you. "Domestic bliss. Love, family...kids." He says that part softly.

Something about that doesn’t surprise you - having only known him as kind and sweet and fun - and you stomp down the immediate impulse to gush about how that’s exactly what you want as well. “She didn’t want kids?” You guess, otherwise surely he would have a whole brood by now.

"I guess not." Marcus frowns, snorting slightly. "She told me that she went off her birth control three years ago." He tells you, remembering how she had symbolically thrown away her compact in the trash. "I found out later on that she had just had an IUD placed. In the middle of our divorce mediation."

“Jesus Christ.” Sitting back from him, you can feel your jaw hit the proverbial floorboards. “I’m sorry, I know I have no place in any of this, but I swear I will have words for that woman if I ever see her again.” The blood boiling in your ears on his behalf feels utterly cartoonish.

"It's honestly better." Marcus can't help the slightly satisfied chuckle. He rolls his eyes, hating to even voice the existence of it. "The trust fund is available on my fortieth birthday or upon the birth of my first child."

That makes you snicker slightly, still upset for him, but glad Amanda didn’t get a goddamn thing extra. “She didn’t know she needed to hang on an extra year or two, I assume?”

"Yeah. It's not something I wanted to ever really talk about." He shakes his head and looks down at you. "I don't talk to him; I don't approve of the way that he did anything with us." He sighs. "I only took the money for college because I was so broken up about Mom dying. And it was a slight snub towards him to choose art and criminal justice instead of business. And joining the FBI. He expected me to join the company. Even if I don't carry his last name, I'm his only biological son."

“We both left the family business,” you acknowledge softly, not sure if it really means a goddamn thing in the scheme of things. “My father basically treated Erik like his true-born son regardless of the fact that I’m an only child. He was over the moon about the proposal. Acted like I was finally doing my duty to the family by saying yes.”

"Ugh." Marcus grimaces and feels for you. He knows about expectations and feeling that disapproval. "I can understand why you would want to move halfway across the country."

Shrugging slightly, you have to admit that you’re a lot more good natured about not pursuing your forgotten dreams as you were even a few months ago when the wounds were fresher. “Neither Erik nor my dad could understand why I wouldn’t just settle down immediately. I want a family, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to just marry whoever I cross first.”

"I can understand that." Marcus has already admitted to himself that the reason that he and Amanda got heavy quickly was because of his own emotional neediness. "I don't think it worked out too well for me. There were good memories, but yeah...."

“I’m sorry you lost time.” You tell him quietly, and the way your chest clenches is an absolute ache. “But…you can start over again. However you want to. It’s not ever too late to meet someone new.” Even as the person whose bed he is in, you would never assume or impose yourself into the new navigations of his life. You like him - obviously quite a lot considering how quickly you’ve ended up where you are with him - but that doesn’t mean you’re going to hold any level of expectation from him.

He snorts and gives a small huff of slight indignation. "Meet someone new?" He asks softly. "I think the universe might send an asteroid to hit me if I bypass this." He teases, acknowledging the vast number of clues that the two of you should have met and fit so very well together.

“I’m not going to force myself on you.” That’s one thing you had never, and would never, do to anyone. Regardless of anything else, choosing your partner should always be done freely and happily. You had always believed that, even before Erik steam rolled his way into putting a ring on your finger. “That being said? I would really like to see you again. To…see where this goes.” That shouldn’t make you flushed or shy, not at 30 goddamn years old, but here you are.

"Thank God." Marcus squeezes you tight and reaches up to cup your cheek and guides your lips back to his for a soft kiss. "I have no problem saying that I want this to go somewhere. I – I really like you and I'm happy to see where this goes if that's what you want."

Kissing him is addictive. His sweet, soft lips and the taste of him that’s just outside of your ability to describe but reminds you of summer sunrise. You get lost in it - in those moments of shared sighs and shivering with excitement - but you realize that your skipping heart and blood pumping loudly on the inside isn’t an answer he can hear at all. “I want that.” You grin, nearly giggling at how happy the idea makes you. “I…I want you.”

His grin matches yours, unable to really be angry and everything that had happened if it had brought him to this moment. His hand moves and smooths back your hair and he adjusts slightly to kiss your forehead. "That's good." He murmurs, sighing happily. "I want you too. Obviously." He grins again and he sends you a slightly lewd wink.

“I hope you don’t fuck like that unless you mean it.” A slight ache has settled into your hips while you’ve been talking and it will probably last into tomorrow morning, where you hope to double down on that good soreness.

"Well, considering you are the second person that I've slept with in nearly eleven years...I would have to say no." Marcus didn't feel the need to jump back into the dating pool immediately, nor have rebound sex with random strangers. "But as long as you enjoy it, I'm happy."

“Enjoy?” Leaning in a little, you nip at Marcus’s lower lip before kissing him again. “Baby, that’s an understatement.”

He hums and gives a small smile before he kisses you back. "Good. Very good." He knows that both of you are too spent to do anything else tonight, but he craves your closeness. "Let's get some sleep and we can do it again when we wake up."

“Since the universe so clearly wants us to give this a go,” you motion briefly between you before you quickly reach to shut off the bedside lamp. “I’m hoping you’re a cuddler?”

“My second favorite thing to do with a beautiful woman.” He assures you, turning on his side when you do and pressing his body against yours.

The feeling of his weight against your back, his arm curled around your middle, and his nose in your hair; might be the most comforting thing you’ve felt in years. Or ever. And you can’t shake the deep-seated feeling that, whatever this is, this is only the beginning. “Good night, handsome,” you hum softly. “And sweet dreams.”

______

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#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike x reader #Marcus Pike x you #Marcus Pike x female reader #Agent Marcus Pike #The Mentalist #The Mentalist fanfic #we gettin spicy real quick up in this bitch

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