Summary: Some answers, some new questions, and some slightly better tasting coffee.
Warning: Cleaning of Marc’s injuries but they’re surface level, some brief discussions on death and dying that are framed in the past tense for Marc and hypothetical for the Reader.
Word Count: 1959
Author’s Note: This is technically written as a small second part to Coffee Dates but It can probably be read as a stand alone if you don’t feel like reading a slow burn set up right now. Just know that Marc didn’t tell reader about Steven you had to figure it out on your own, you had a running joke where you try to guess his name, and this takes place immediately following the museum fight at the end of episode 1. Also that I am deeply deeply in love with Marc and Steven still. It’s honestly a problem at this point.
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It’s quiet in his apartment. You hadn’t expected it to be so messy, so full to the brim with books that openly discuss topics of interest and post cards from his mother hanging off the fish tank. Marc, his name still settles strangely on the tip of your tongue, foreign and familiar all at once, just sits next to you on the couch, body angled towards you despite the cushion of space between the two of you.
You’re only half sure that you’re not loosing your mind.
“You’re allowed to ask questions,” Marc’s voice isn’t gentle not like it was on the rooftop. It’s more tentative than anything else, as if you’re going to run away at any moment and he would let you.
“I know.” Your voice is equally as tentative, as if you’re not sure that you’re not going to run away yourself. There’s warm light cast on the two of you from the lamps at the side of the couch and it reminds you of that first morning. ”I just don’t know where to start.”
Marc nods and lets his gaze linger on his own hands for just a moment before he sighs.
“My name is Marc Spector, and uh, you’ve met Steven.” Your turn to nod. You can see now that the postcards on the tank are addressed to Steven, not Marc, signed by his mother.
“Sort of.” He had seemed nice. You feel a little bad that you didn’t have the chance to actually talk with him.
“We…share a body.” Marc continues. You’d known that of course, it was that or teleportation to explain what had just happened in the bathroom but he wasn’t Dr. Strange by any means. At least, you thought. A lot of what you had thought before now was proving to be wrong.
“And an apartment?” You try for a joke but it barely seems to land. The man in front of you who is desperately trying to look like he’s not watching you and failing, gives little more than a scoff.
“And an apartment,” Marc’s gaze lifts to scan over the room quickly and you take the second to look him over. He’s the same man that never orders and dutifully drinks the terrible coffee you make him. The same careful eyes and soft dark hair, the same potential to pounce in his posture even now that the two of you were out of danger, and even the same bruised and bloodied knuckles. You should be afraid or nervous but no matter how hard you root around inside of yourself you can only find worry.
“Do you have a first aid kit?” Marc’s eyes are back a new line of stress in his face as he begins to frantically look over you. You reach for his wrist and hold it up slowly. The fear slips away as he realizes you’re talking about him and it shouldn’t hurt as much as it does. “Your hand is pretty beat up.”
“It’s fine. The suit heals most of the wounds up when I use it.” You want to ask about the time he got stabbed and collapsed in the booth. If he couldn’t use the suit or if he chose not to.
“Well you’re not using it right now and you’re hurt so either sailor moon it up or tell me where I can find some bandages.” Your thumb rubs circles into his pulse point as you look over the injuries .It keeps you from looking at his face and seeing what may be there. The expressions of just a few seconds ago had left your head reeling. Marc was never this expressive in the diner, you’re not sure what to do with an open book when all you’ve known is coded messages.
“In the bathroom,” Letting go of his wrist hurts in an aching sort of way and you do your best to look for the dresser in his bedroom on your way. There’s rips in his sweater from the glass and the thing in the museum was and it’d be nice to have a change of clothes to shove at him. Instead you just see sand and a cuff on the bed that you make a mental note to ask about.
“Shouldn’t you be freaking out right now?” The question comes as you root through the toiletries to find his first aid kit. You let the question sit between you as you finally find the blue box. You don’t know what to say. There should be anxiety or fear or anger at the lies but there just isn’t.
“I’m taking a rain check on it.” Is what comes out of your mouth as you make your way back to the living room and Marc nods again. He remains quiet and still as you sit down again, closer this time so that you can pull his hand into your own easier. Silence is quickly becoming a third member of your….whatever it was Marc and you were. He doesn’t hiss in pain from the disinfectant, nor does he shy away when you begin wrapping the knuckles.
“It’s not Sailor Moon, it’s Moon Knight,” Another peace offering. Marc isn’t the most comfortable with handing out information, you know that much about him for certain, and yet again he’s doing so without prodding or pushing. This is why, you think to yourself, this is why I’m not freaking out.
“I was half right,” when you chance a glance at him there’s a ghost of a smile and it feels like a win. “so then Mr. Knight-”
“Different suit.”
“How did all that happen?” His hand is done being cared for but you don’t let it go. Marc doesn’t pull it back either though so you allowed yourself this comfort. The openness he was trying for seemed to be slipping away and with a small shake of his head and a grimace he speaks again.
“It doesn’t matter really,” His gaze lingers on the two of you connect and you give his hand a small squeeze.
“It does to me.” Your tone is quiet but firm, and you don’t move your line of vision from his face. A decision that lets you see the way that he struggles before speaking.
“I died. That ordeal was the price of not staying that way.” The speed at which your heart drops to the floor makes you sick. His tone is even carefully casual, eyes still locked on your hands and the way your grip tightens is reflexive this time.
“Youdied?” There aren’t always physical scars left behind from a near death experience. You know better than that, but you can’t help looking over him again, reexamining the shadows of his face and what they may be hiding.
“Yeah. It’s not nearly as fun as you’d think,” There’s a halfhearted smile, an attempt to brush off your concern and as warm as you feel at the concern for your emotions its meaningless to you at the moment. The hand not grasping his moves to cup his cheek and the smile slips.
“I didn’t think it was fun at all.” There’s an intensity in the gaze you two share. It’s not the first time that his eyes have made your mouth run dry with the emotion in them but its the first time that you don’t break first to busy yourself, just hold his face and wait. “Are you okay? When did this happen?”
“A while ago.” His mouth barely opens when he speaks, words little more than a murmur as your companion looks at you like he’s waiting for a shoe to drop.
“Marc,” His name feels like an ember under your tongue, burning slowly and surely but only a breathe away from igniting into something more. You’re not sure if the fire would burn you up into ash or help forge you into something new. You can almost feel him lean into the hand on his face but you don’t dare mention it.
“I’m alive.” Another murmur. Another hard swallow. You wonder if Marc is worried about what may spill out of his lips if he was a bit looser with them. You also wonder if he would let you kiss him again.
“That’s not what I asked.” You’re sure there’s more anxiety in your veins than blood and you’re not sure it will ever stop. He died and he’s trying to brush it off like crumbs from a shirt. Your mind lingers on that monster from the museum, was it another one of those? Was it something worse? Did he have someone with him when he died or was he alone. Gods you hope he wasn’t alone.
“I’m sorry.” He says after a minute and the anxiety moves to defensive anger, hand dropping from his face so you don’t do something stupid like actually kiss him again.
“Don’t you dare. Without you I’d be dead right now-”
“Without me you wouldn’t have been in the museum at all.” Marc’s own anger flares up, you can see it in the tension in his shoulders in the way that his own hand tightens on your own, in the furrow of his brow. The venom in his voice isn’t directed towards you but it still stings. “You wouldn’t been safer if you had never met me.”
“And I’d be all the worse off for it.” The knee jerk response gets another scoff from Marc and you wish you could just get into his head, just for a second. There has to have been some way for you to get through to him that he mattered to you, that he was important to you and you wouldn’t trade anything for your four am talks on anything and everything. But for all you don’t know about Marc Spector, you remember how to make him smile. “For one thing I definitely would have failed the test without you.”
And smile he does, even if it’s weak and lasts for barely a second, you can see the tension drain in part and even a baby step is better than staying still.
“You could have died.” Another whisper, rawer. You don’t have the time to pick apart the layers in his voice but gods you want to. There’s more than anger there, more than fear. Marc is still looking at you, but it feels more like when you’re trying to convince someone to believe you and for all that happened in the past twenty four hours, you don’t.
“I could be hit by a car tomorrow and die. I could eat bad fish and get food poisoning. I could be roped into a bank robbery but you know what I didn’t. I met you. That’s more like,” There’s a thousand things you want to say, a million allegories you could give him but you know deep in your bones that Marc wouldn’t let you get hurt and that meeting him was the best thing that could have happened at 1:36 am on a Wednesday morning. “That’s more like winning the lottery.”
“Right.” You pull away first, closing the first aid box and standing. There’s a tinge of disbelief but you can see in his shoulder’s that you’ve gotten your point across for now.
“No, really, you’re a godsend. A great way to offload stale donuts and raise my gpa.” There’s a bit more of an authentic laugh behind you as you begin to move about the kitchen, quickly falling into familiar steps of making tea. There’s more information you’ll need before you leave, and there’s bound to be an uncomfortable conversation or two in the hours to come, but for now there’s just the two of you and that’s enough.
Warnings : Fluff, mild angst, mention of blood, mention of canon style violence, mention of food, some innuendos and spice
Summary : You offer to help Marc and Steven relax a little after a long night
Prompts - “Why are you wearing my sweater?” “Because it smells like you.” + “Your back is so tense. Would you like a massage?”
Gif by salome-c
~~~~~~~
The night drags out in the winter, long and dark as you toss and turn in a cold empty bed. It’s not the first night you’ve been alone, and you know it won’t be the last, but every night they are gone ends this way — restless and sleepless. You know eventually the sun will rise, the moon will disappear again for another night, and you hope that then, they will come home to you.
Sitting up, you run your hands over your face, the movement stirring up the lingering familiar scent of them from their sweater. You’d thrown it on as the wind had rattled the window panes, the cold breeze sneaking through the gaps to bite at your skin. The smell brings a soft familiar warmth to you, as though you could imagine them here, their arms wrapped around you.
Technically it’s Marc’s sweater, a point Steven likes to make continually since he hates it, preferring his patterned shirts to Marc’s usual wardrobe of darker colours, but it’s still a comfort that reminds you of them both.
Swinging your legs out of bed, you let the cold wood floor ground you for a moment, pulling you from dark and depressing thoughts. They always came home to you, there’s no reason tonight should be any different, and yet the restlessness won’t cease.
Notes: This has sat in my WIPs for weeks until I had the inspiration to finish but I’m really happy with how this turned out! I usually love a good dom!Marc but sometimes a little subby is what a man needs! Plus switching is more fun lol!
“Hey Marc…” you greeted into the home you shared with him as you walked in.
You froze, however, when you noticed that it looked like he hadn’t moved a muscle since you left hours ago. Marc stayed hunched over his desk in the far corner of the space as he mumbled to himself and scribbled notes down. Papers littered the area around him and only a small desk light lit up the room. He barely even acknowledged that you were back, too focused on his work.
“Marc,” you repeated in a sterner tone as you crossed the space and rested your hands on his shoulders, “You work too hard baby,” you squeezed the taut muscles as you felt him stiffen under your touch.
He sighed and leaned back to look up at you, “Hey baby,” he finally spoke, “I’m just so close to figuring this out I just need…”
“What you need,” you interjected as you spun his swivel chair around, “Is to take a break.”
Marc glared at you for interrupting him, but before he could let out a vocal protest, you dropped down to your knees between his spread legs. His mouth hung open as you looked up at him with a fire in your eyes. Any argument was lost as you ran your hands up his inner thighs and fiddled with the zipper of his pants.
“Baby…”
“Shhh,” you cooed as you tugged at the zipper.
A smirk lit up your face when you saw the fabric beneath your hands twitch and you knew you had Marc right where you wanted him. With expert precision, you easily freed his cock from his pants. Your mouth watered when you saw that he was half hard already just from your teasing touches.
Marc knew that you were aware of the effect you had on him. You were his ultimate weakness, and you both knew it. Just one look from you rendered him speechless and just one touch turned the usually hardened mercenary into a puddle of mush. Sometimes he hated how easily he fell to you. But, there were times like this when you knew exactly what he needed and how to give it to him, so he couldn’t complain too much.
He was absolutely in love with you after all.
“Shit baby,” Marc hissed as his hands landed on your scalp.
You didn’t reply with your words. Instead, you licked a long, slow, deliberate stipe up the length of Marc’s cock that sent a shiver up his spine. His grip on your scalp tightened as he gasped at the sensation. When you reached the tip, you flicked your tongue on the sensitive skin a few times before you wrapped your lips around it.
A low groan escaped Marc’s throat as you engulfed his cock with your mouth and sank down on it. He let out a string of curses as he surrendered to the warm wetness of your mouth. You bobbed your head up and down the entire length until he was rock hard for you.
With determination, you hallowed out your cheeks and sucked hard on his cock. A loud moan that Marc couldn’t control echoed in the room as you worked him the way you knew he liked. You dove into his body with your face and didn’t stop until your nose nuzzled the skin of his lower stomach.
You gagged on his length, but you didn’t let up as you pulled back and then forward again. Marc’s grip on your scalp tightened as you repeated the action several times. Every time you lunged forward, you felt the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat and it burned so good. You knew he was enjoying it too from the string of groans and curses he let out.
Needing a breath, you pulled back and let go of his cock. A string of spit connected the two of you as you inhaled deeply and looked up at Marc with glossy eyes. The two of you stayed still for several moments, completely lost in each other’s gaze.
When he whispered your name, you leaned forward again and wrapped your lips around his cock once more. He hissed as you swirled your tongue around him and poked at the prominent veins along his shaft. After you teased him, you swallowed his entire length again and devoured him like a popsicle on a hot summer day.
“Fuuuuck,” Marc growled loudly as he felt the familiar heat build up from deep within him.
You hummed into his body as you picked up your pace, determined to make him explode in your mouth.
It didn’t take long for you to get what you wanted, and after a few more pumps of his cock, Marc came hard into your mouth with a loud scream. He tugged at your scalp as his seed spilled into your mouth, and you sucked greedily for every last drop. Marc’s mind swam as he lost himself in the bliss that was your skilled tongue and warm mouth.
But even as he rode out his orgasm on your face, you didn’t stop. You kept going as you continued to suck and lick at his now overstimulated length. His entire body trembled as he felt like he could float out of his chair if it weren’t for your tight grip on his thighs. His eyes rolled back into his head as he leaned back.
“Baby… Shit…” he groaned through gritted teeth as he buried his hands in your scalp.
You hummed around Marc’s cock, which only added to the rush of emotions he felt. He felt both hot and cold at the same time, like he would burst into a million pieces and melt into a puddle. He wanted to scream and cry and moan all at once. Never before had Marc felt anything like this, never before had he been so overstimulated. And he never wanted you to stop.
Lucky for him, stopping was not in your agenda; unless Marc were to pull you off of him, you were determined to keep going. Usually, it was Marc who took charge and took care of you. Today though, you wanted to make him forget anything except for your mouth and your name. It was a rush to have such a strong and tough man in the palm of your hand, and you loved how he instantly melted for you. You knew not to take his surrender for granted, and you were grateful he allowed you to pleasure him like this.
You hallowed out your cheeks and sucked hard as you bobbed your head up and down. Already, Marc’s cock hardened again as if he never came in the first place. Over the sound of your slurps, you heard a string of curses from Marc’s lips and you couldn’t help but smirk around him.
“Need me to stop?” you asked as you released his cock with a loud pop. You kept your lips hovered over the tip and placed light, soft kisses as you gave him a moment to catch his breath.
“Fuck no!” Marc replied in a breathy whisper.
You smirked before you devoured him once more. In one swift movement, you swallowed his entire length until his cock hit the back of your throat, which caused Marc to let out a loud scream unlike anything you’d ever heard from him before. Though you couldn’t see it, tears formed in his eyes from the wave of sensations and emotions that suddenly flooded his mind. Strands of his hairs tickled your nose as you buried your face against his body.
Tears of your own fell from the corners of your eyes, but you kept going. You slowly pulled back as you ran your tongue along the underside of his shaft. The prominent vein pulsed under your touch until you reached the tip. You swirled your tongue around the sensitive head before you dove back in quickly, the entire time Marc writhed and groaned at your every move.
“Fuck… Baby…”
Marc had so many other words on the tip of his tongue, but every time you swallowed his length, you unknowingly took all his words as well. He wanted to tell you how amazing you were, how good you made him feel. But all that he could form was a string of slurred curse words mixed with your name.
But that was all you needed to hear.
Soon enough, you picked up your pace once more and you bobbed your head up and down Marc’s cock as you sucked hard. You were done teasing him for now and you wanted nothing more than for him to cum again. Once your nose hit his belly, you hollowed out your cheeks and took him in as deep into your throat as you possibly could. You choked back a gag as you swallowed around Marc’s cock, which caused a shiver up his spine.
“Please baby,” he begged in a strained voice as he cupped your head.
Hearing Marc Spector beg was one of the most beautiful sounds in the world to you, second only to the way he moaned your name when he came.
You hummed around him as you sucked hard and bobbed your head up and down, determined to hear your favorite sound. By the way he cried out and tugged at your scalp, you knew that you wouldn’t have to wait long.
And you were right; it only took a few more thrusts into your mouth for Marc to cum again. With a loud groan and a sharp pull at your scalp, he spilled himself into your mouth while you hummed around his overly sensitive cock.
It wasn’t until Marc yanked you off of him that you finally stopped. You would have gladly kept going as long as he would let you, but you could tell by the glazed over look in his eyes that Marc was spent. Your mouth hung open as a mix of your spit and his seed dripped from your lips. You looked at him with your own glazed over expression as a trail of saliva remained your only connection left to his cock.
The two of you stared at each other in silence for several moments. Only the sounds of your heavy breaths filled the room as you looked deep into the other’s eyes. Marc’s hand stayed on the back of your head as he gently brushed his thumb across your scalp. Your hands stayed on his lap and your lips remained parted as you breathed deeply. Behind both of your eyes burned fire so bright they could melt steel.
And both of you knew what that look meant.
Without a word, Marc let out a growl as he launched himself forward and pounced on you. You knew it was coming, but you still let out a gasp as you suddenly found yourself on your back with his body over yours. He quickly swallowed any other sound you were about to take as he captured your lips with his. Marc groaned as he tasted himself on your tongue, but it only fueled him more.
As his tongue tangled with yours, Marc quickly tugged at your clothing in a desperate need to undress you. And just as he surrendered to you, you surrendered to him and allowed him full access to your body. Just as much as he trusted you, you trusted him, and the fire raged within you as you suddenly found yourself completely bare for him.
“Marc…”
“Fuck you’re so beautiful,” he groaned as he wasted no time and dove ino between your legs.
You let out a loud scream when Marc’s mouth covered your pussy and your hands immediately went into his hair. He didn’t have the patience to tease you today and right away he licked at your clit and sucked hard as he devoured you like you were his last meal.
After being so focused on Marc and his pleasure, you didn’t even realize how wet and turned on you were and in no time, you felt the familiar tingle of your approaching climax. Marc knew exactly which spots drove you wild and where and how hard to flick his tongue against your pussy to make you scream his name. He was just as familiar with your body as you were with his.
“Oh fuck… Fuck, Marc!” you cried out as your body felt like it was on fire for real.
He groaned against your body as he ran his tongue up and down your folds while he pushed two of his thick fingers inside you with little resistance. And it was that added pressure of him filling you up that pushed you over the edge. The moment his fingers were completely buried inside you, you came hard with a loud scream as you pulled his soft hair. Your entire body trembled as your legs shook on either side of his head as your mind swam in the pleasure he gifted you.
But just as you didn’t stop at just one orgasm, neither did Marc.
Your screams turned more into whimpers as Marc kept licking at you with his tongue while he started to pump his fingers in and out of you in a steady rhythm. In a lull of your moans, he heard the deliciously wet sounds of your pussy, and it only made him hungry for more. Every time his fingers filled you, your moans grew louder and louder, and he knew he was close to that perfect spot deep inside you that never failed to make you gush: something Marc was exceptionally proud of.
“Marc… Marc… Fuck… Ahhh,” you moaned as you felt as if you would float away if he let go of you.
He would never let go of you, though, and he would hold you tight and keep you close forever as long as you would have him. Marc hummed against your body as he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked hard while he thrust his fingers into you harder. The cry you let out sent a jolt through his own body as he knew he hit his target.
“More baby,” he groaned, “Give me more, gorgeous.”
“Oh my g…” you couldn’t even form a full thought as you saw stars from the way he licked at your clit and fucked you with his fingers.
“That’s it baby, just let go,” Marc moaned around you as he picked up his pace.
With every thrust of his fingers, you were closer and closer to your second climax. And from the way he hit your g-spot every single time, you both knew you weren’t going to last much longer. With a swirl of his tongue around your clit, and the way his thick fingers hit just right, it only took a few more pumps before you came hard again.
You threw your head back as your body shook even harder than before and you screamed so hard that you hoped the neighbors wouldn’t hear. You bucked your hips up as you grinded against Marc’s face as you felt yourself gush against him as tears filled your eyes.
It wasn’t until you tapped him twice that Marc finally broke away from you. Immediately, you flopped down completely limp on the floor, your arms and legs spread out at your sides as your chest rose and fell with your heavy breaths. Marc stayed hovered over you as he watched you come down from your intense back to back climaxes. His chin and lips glistened with your juices; something he always wore proudly until he licked it off. His own arms trembled as he fought to stay up, but it was a losing battle.
Marc soon dropped down into the floor on top of you with a dramatic sigh. You let out a surprised grunt as you suddenly felt his entire weight on top of you, but you quickly recovered and wrapped your arms and legs round him as you chuckled softly.
“Shit baby,” he whispered, “That was…”
“Incredible,” you finished his thought.
“Fuck yeah,” he agreed with a soft laugh of his own, “And so fucking hot.”
You loved the sound of Marc’s laugh. And you savored it for a moment as you placed a feather-light kiss on his temple, “I should force you to take breaks more often, Marc.”
Marc gave you a squeeze as he stifled another laugh, “Yeah, I think maybe you should.”
Warnings : Fluff, mild angst, mention of blood, mention of canon style violence, mention of food, some innuendos and spice
Summary : You offer to help Marc and Steven relax a little after a long night
Prompts - “Why are you wearing my sweater?” “Because it smells like you.” + “Your back is so tense. Would you like a massage?”
Gif by salome-c
~~~~~~~
The night drags out in the winter, long and dark as you toss and turn in a cold empty bed. It’s not the first night you’ve been alone, and you know it won’t be the last, but every night they are gone ends this way — restless and sleepless. You know eventually the sun will rise, the moon will disappear again for another night, and you hope that then, they will come home to you.
Sitting up, you run your hands over your face, the movement stirring up the lingering familiar scent of them from their sweater. You’d thrown it on as the wind had rattled the window panes, the cold breeze sneaking through the gaps to bite at your skin. The smell brings a soft familiar warmth to you, as though you could imagine them here, their arms wrapped around you.
Technically it’s Marc’s sweater, a point Steven likes to make continually since he hates it, preferring his patterned shirts to Marc’s usual wardrobe of darker colours, but it’s still a comfort that reminds you of them both.
Swinging your legs out of bed, you let the cold wood floor ground you for a moment, pulling you from dark and depressing thoughts. They always came home to you, there’s no reason tonight should be any different, and yet the restlessness won’t cease.
Warnings : Fluff, mild angst, mention of blood, mention of canon style violence, mention of food, some innuendos and spice
Summary : You offer to help Marc and Steven relax a little after a long night
Prompts - “Why are you wearing my sweater?” “Because it smells like you.” + “Your back is so tense. Would you like a massage?”
Gif by salome-c
~~~~~~~
The night drags out in the winter, long and dark as you toss and turn in a cold empty bed. It’s not the first night you’ve been alone, and you know it won’t be the last, but every night they are gone ends this way — restless and sleepless. You know eventually the sun will rise, the moon will disappear again for another night, and you hope that then, they will come home to you.
Sitting up, you run your hands over your face, the movement stirring up the lingering familiar scent of them from their sweater. You’d thrown it on as the wind had rattled the window panes, the cold breeze sneaking through the gaps to bite at your skin. The smell brings a soft familiar warmth to you, as though you could imagine them here, their arms wrapped around you.
Technically it’s Marc’s sweater, a point Steven likes to make continually since he hates it, preferring his patterned shirts to Marc’s usual wardrobe of darker colours, but it’s still a comfort that reminds you of them both.
Swinging your legs out of bed, you let the cold wood floor ground you for a moment, pulling you from dark and depressing thoughts. They always came home to you, there’s no reason tonight should be any different, and yet the restlessness won’t cease.
