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absurdthirst · 2 months

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Better Late Than Never {Marcus Pike x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 18.9k

Warnings: Young musician Marcus, oral sex (male and female receiving), vaginal sex, confessions, murders, attempted murder, angst, vaginal fingering, multiple orgasms, face fucking, mentions of pregnancy/family planning, hostage situation, threats of death, shoots, death

Comments: College is amazing, fun and the best boyfriend, Marcus Pike. You dream of a life together with him. Until you witness a horrible crime and are ripped from the life you know. Years later, a theft at your art gallery brings one Marcus Pike back into your life, revealing secrets and the fact that you never stopped loving him.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Marcus Pike MasterList ||

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

“And now, Sex Riot!”

You start screaming as soon as they announce the band, always willing to cheer your college boyfriend and his band on, especially since this is the biggest gig they’ve ever played. “Yay baby! Whoooooo!” You clap and then put your fingers in your mouth to whistle from your spot at the bar as Marcus, Aaron, Dominic and Anthony immediately start playing the first song. Marcus, sweet and kind, looks like every girl's bad boy dream since you added a little bit of your eyeliner and gelled up his hair. Paired with his lucky t-shirt with the pot smoking ‘shroom, ripped jeans and boots, he looks sexy and you can’t wait to take him back to your apartment after it’s over.

Marcus finds you in the crowd and grins, winking at you as he plays a few chords to warm up his bass guitar and to check he’s in tune. He looks at the lead singer, Aaron, who nods and Marcus waits for the count in from Dom. He starts to play the song, the crowd starting to jam and he feels the thrill of the performance start to hit him. You are there, grinning up at him and he loves how much you support him for every gig.

You beam as they finish the first song. Clapping and cheering as Aaron greets the crowd. You know that when he gets down, he’s going to want a beer and a kiss and you will give them to him. You are completely in love with him and tonight you are going to tell him.

Marcus is sweating when the set ends, blood racing with exhilaration and he grins as he finds You applauding him, his favorite groupie, and he grins when you blow him a kiss. Fuck, he loves you. He’s gonna tell you soon. Never one to hide his emotions, he’s gonna need to blurt out his feelings soon. He takes his final bow with the band and he finds you backstage after you rush back there, his hands finding your waist and he leans in to press his lips to yours.

Kissing Marcus Pike is like breathing, natural and all consuming. You reach up and tangle your fingers into his sweaty, longish curls. Moaning into his mouth, you don’t even hesitate to press yourself against him eagerly. Only breaking away to breathe and then you nudge your nose against his and grin. “You were amazing, baby.” You gush, giggling when you kiss him again.

Marcus slides his hands down to squeeze your ass. “You enjoyed the show?” He asks and you nod, kissing his jaw as you lean against him. “Fuck, I was nervous to sing backup vocals on the new song. Was it good?” He asks, biting his lip when he pulls back to look at you.

“It was so good, baby. I love your voice.” You nod. “I love when you sing to me.” Grinning, you lift a brow. “Sing in the shower.” You tease, knowing he’s only singing in the shower when you aren’t in it with him. Normally if you come over to his place, you might catch it if he was still in the shower.

Marcus blushes, unaware that you’d heard him in the shower. It makes him wonder if you heard what else he does when you aren’t in the mood for him. “Fuck, you wanna get out of here? I’m not really in the mood for drinks. I want to go back to mine and shower…with you.” He adds, biting his lip.

“Your place?” You nod and kiss him one more time before you turn to grab your purse off the bar. You have already paid for your drink so you are ready to go. Even if the rest of the band stays and parties, it just means that you and Marcus will have the apartment to yourselves since he rooms with his band mates. “I think I want to have the bassist from my favorite band in the shower with me.” You send him a hot look. “So I can show him how big of a fan I am.”

Marcus nods, knowing the rest of the band will be okay with packing up the equipment since he’s stayed late every gig this year. He takes your hand, knowing the guys will bring his bass back, and he tells Aaron that he’s taking you home. “Have fun.” Aaron smirks, knowing exactly why you’re leaving so soon but Marcus doesn’t give him a second thought as he escorts you out to his car. Before he opens the door, he grabs you to push you against the passenger side, his lips finding yours under the street light.

In typical collegiate horny fashion, you have no problem making out with your boyfriend of nearly eight months right there. Feeling him start to harden against your hip only has you even more feral for him. One hand in the pocket of his ripped jeans, the other pushes between you so you can squeeze his thick cock, making him groan into your mouth. “Take me home, Marcus.” You demand. “I want to suck your cock and I can’t do that here.”

Marcus groans, hating to pull away from you but your promise to suck him off is never one he would deny you so he pecks your lips and pulls away from you. Shifting to open the door for you, helping you in before he jogs around the car to get into the driver’s seat. “God.” He breathes out as he starts to drive, trying to focus on the road and not the way you’re looking at him as he drives to his place.

You smirk and slide your hand down to his belt buckle. “Keep your eyes on the road, Pike.” You tease playfully as you unbuckle it. “I can’t wait until we get back to your place to feel you.” You’ve never given road head before, but for Marcus, you would do anything.

“Fuckkkk.” Marcus groans, fingers tightening on the steering wheel as you take his cock out of his pants. “Fuck baby. You’re too good to me.” He groans and you lean down to take him into your mouth. The car swerves slightly and he exhales to control himself and the car.

He’s slightly salty with sweat but like always, he tastes amazing. Musky and heady as you roll your tongue over the tip and pull back slightly before taking him deeper into your mouth. Groaning at his pulsing twitch of excitement. He loves when you suck his cock and you know that the added thrill of driving and being slightly exposed is doing something for you so it must be doing something for him. He had always kind of giggled when you watched movies where the guy gets road head, so you are happy you decided you couldn’t wait.

Marcus hisses when you suck him a little harder, taking him deeper and he swears he nearly cums but he reaches down to caress your cheek, “fuck baby. So good to me.” He coos, struggling to concentrate when you’re hollowing your cheeks.

You hum, happy he’s enjoying it. You know when you get back to his place, he will drag you in the shower and by the time you’re clean, he’ll be ready to go again. Your lips touch the fabric of his jeans and you swallow around his thick length.

Marcus can barely keep his eyes open but he forces himself, moaning again when you swallow around him and he reaches down to pat your cheek. “I’m gonna cum.” He warns you, “baby. I’m gonna cum.”

You smirk slightly, almost pulling off of him to remind him that’s the point of sucking his cock. Instead you double down on your effort, wanting him to cum down your throat. Moaning around him as the jerks and pulses of his cock tell you he’s about to bust.

Marcus pants, fucking glad he’s stopping at a traffic light. “Fuck fuck Fuck.” He hisses as he starts to cum, unable to control himself anymore as he starts to cum down your throat.

You swallow as much as you can, some of it spilling out the side of your mouth but you don’t stop swallowing. Not until every drop has been pumped into your mouth and that little sigh he always gives when he’s done comes out of his mouth. Pulling off of him lightly, you lick your lips and grin as you sit up. “How was that for your applause?”

“Fuck baby. I- just wait till we get back to mine.” He promises breathlessly. “I’m gonna - fuck. The things I’m gonna do to you.” He promises, pushing down on the pedal a little too hard when the light turns green. You tuck him away into his pants and he pulls you up to kiss your cheek, “God baby. You’re incredible.” He murmurs, focusing back on the road so he can rush back to his apartment.

You giggle quietly as Marcus races back to his apartment building, nearly squealing his tires in an effort to get there as quickly as possible. Once parked, you jump out of the car and run towards the building. “You have to catch me,” you tease over your shoulder.

Marcus chuckles, shaking his head and he scrambles to lock his car. He rushes after you, running up the stairs and he catches up to you when you are at his front door. “Gotcha.” He growls playfully, spinning you so he can push you against the door, kissing you with a smile, his hands reaching for your hands to lift your arms above your head, restraining your wrists, his hand slides back down to squeeze your tit, his tongue sliding into your mouth.

You moan into him, enjoying the taste and feeling of him pressing against you. “Marcus.” You pant when he slides his tongue out enough to let you talk. “Shower and then I want to go to bed.” You beg, knowing that you want him inside you, touching you when you tell him how you feel.

He pulls away reluctantly, wanting to touch you but he knows he has to open his door. He grabs his keys, fumbling to open the door with your lips on his neck but he manages, swallowing harshly and nearly stumbling when it swings open. “Get naked. Now.” He demands, needing you, to see all of you.

You giggle at his commanding, desperate tone. Knowing that he is close to losing control and with it, leaving some of the sweetness behind. The best thing about Marcus is that he is so kind in and out of bed, but you like when he is a little rough with you. “Yes sir.” You tease, pouting seductively as you toss your purse down and reach to unzip your dress.

Marcus groans, his eyes hungrily eating you up and he bites his lip when you toss your bra aside, stepping out of your panties. “Fuck, you’re so gorgeous.” He murmurs, kicking off his boots and he pulls his shirt over his head, pushing his jeans down. His cock is still flaccid but his eyes are drinking you in as he pushes his boxers down. “Come on baby.” He murmurs, reaching for you and he takes your hand to escort you to the bathroom. He grabs his body wash from the shelf and turns on the water.

Marcus has a runners ‘or a swimmer’s body. Long, lean lines and limbs. Still powerful, and you take a moment to appreciate that as you watch him. You know you will have to gather your clothes later, but right now you press yourself up against him when you step into the shower together and wrap your arms around his neck. “I missed you today, baby.” He had a test and then one quick half shift at his job before his gig. His parents were funding his college, which was fantastic, but Marcus was responsible enough to still have a job.

“I missed you too.” Marcus murmurs, his hands caressing your back. “Always miss you.” He promises, leaning back so he can look into your eyes. “You enjoyed the show?” He asks, always anxious that he wasn’t good enough. He plays guitar mainly but when Aaron needed a bass player, he stepped up to learn it.

“You were great.” You promise him, sliding your fingers through his hair and tilting his head back to wet it under the spray so you can wash it for him. “Every note was perfect and you looked so sexy up there.” You coo. “All I could think of was how that is my man and I get to go home with him.”

Marcus smirks, eyes closed as you grab the shampoo and his hands squeeze your ass cheeks as you lather up his locks. “Only you. No one else.” He vows, knowing his band mates take home random women but you’re the one for him. He’s never been the Casanova type, always liking to be with one woman, to have a relationship and a deeper connection than a one night stand. You rinse his hair and he leans down to kiss you again, unable to keep away from you.

"Mmmmmm." You smile against his lips and open for him, moaning softly when his tongue slides against yours and he shuffles to press you back against the shower wall. You never seem to get enough of him and you don't think. you ever will. You love him. You have decided that you want to be with him forever and you pull back to smile at him softly. "Only you." You promise back.

Marcus kisses you softly, shifting to kneel down in the shower and he grabs your leg, kissing your knee before he lifts it onto his shoulder. His eyes on you as he leans forward to nudge your mound, his tongue coming out to slide through your folds. He loves how you taste and he wants you to cum on his tongue before he fucks you in his bed.

“Marcus!” You cry out, slapping your hand against the wall and your eyes roll back in your head. Marcus’s tongue is always eager, always seemingly perfect as it carves a path through your folds and flicks over your clit. He sucks it into his mouth and hums, which always makes you moan softly.

His hands slide up to squeeze your tits, the water flowing over his back and he loves the way you moan his name. He could listen to that for the rest of his life. His hands caress and squeeze and pinch while his tongue dips back down to push inside of you with a groan.

Tilting your head up, you pant his name again, your thigh shaking and barely supporting you without his help to keep you pinned against the wall. “Oh fuck, Marcus.” You chant quietly. “Baby, you’re so good. Fuck, you’re so good.”

Marcus desperately needs you to cum, his tongue diving deep as his nose presses against your clit. His hands slide down to squeeze your ass, tilting your hips so his tongue can push deeper inside of you.

“Oh shit!” Your body bucks and you cry out wordlessly when your orgasm hits you. Pleasure and heat washing over you in successive waves as he keeps pressing deeper. Tongue curling and prodding inside you and his nose is the perfect pressure against your clit.

He works you through it, his tongue lapping up every drop of your essence and he groans, pulling back to look up at you. Hair slicked back and eyes dark. He shifts to stand up after lowering your leg and he leans in to kiss you again, sliding his tongue into your mouth.

When he pulls back, you giggle quietly. “So glad I have a boyfriend who loves to eat pussy.”

You hum, reaching for the body wash and his shower mitts. Lathering them up quickly, you start to wash his body, eager to get him into bed.

Marcus lets you wash him then he returns the favor, his hands everywhere as he washes you and he groans when your fingers wrap around his hard cock. “So impatient for me.” He jokes softly, rinsing you off. “You wanna come to my bed?” He asks, kissing along your neck.

“Fuck yes.” You pant, stroking his cock with the quick, harsh motion that he enjoys. “I need you inside me, baby. Right now.” You beg.

Marcus reaches behind you to turn off the water, he grabs the towel and wraps it around you, grabbing another one for himself to dry off and then he’s dragging you into his bedroom. He pushes you onto the bed, his body covering yours as he kneels between your thighs, “wanna cum inside of you.” He murmurs, wanting to fill you up. He usually pulls out to be safe despite your birth control but tonight he wants to feel your walls pulsing around him when he cums.

You moan softly, loving the idea. Nodding, you reach up to caress his chest. “I want that baby, I’m safe.” You promise him, also keeping track of your cycle as well as your birth control. “Fill me up, I want to feel it.” You coo, enjoying the low moan as he pushes his cock through your folds and starts to break into you as he rocks his hips forward to kiss you.

Marcus groans into your mouth as you stretch to take him. You’re so fucking perfect. So fucking wet and tight. He closes his eyes as he pushes until he’s inside of you fully. “Fuck, baby girl. I - I love how you feel around me.” He murmurs, kissing along your neck as he gives you a moment.

You close your eyes, a small smile on your face as your fingers tangle into his hair. “I love you.” You murmur softly, knowing that he will hear you since his ear is right next to your lips. It’s the right moment, the perfect moment to tell him how you feel. “I love you, Marcus.”

Marcus pulls back to look at you, eyes wide. “I love you too. Fuck, I love you so much baby.” He promises. His hips start to move as he works his cock in and out of you. “I love you. I love you.” He repeats over and over between kisses to your skin.

You moan quietly as the two of you take sex and turn it to love making. Soft and sweet as he rocks into you and whispers words of love and praise. It makes you feel cherished, you know that he’s not just saying that because you did. Not because he’s inside you. This man loves you and it makes happy tears fill your eyes as you hold him tight.

He moves slow, in no rush despite the frenzy earlier. He wants you to enjoy every second of this. His hand sliding up to squeeze your breast as he shifts his weight onto one elbow so he can touch you. There’s no more words, just feelings as he rocks into you, your legs lifting higher up on his hips.

Marcus can barely breathe, let alone speak. He grunts, sighs, and leans in to press his lips to yours. His tongue sliding into your mouth to languidly kiss you. He can’t believe how lucky he is that you are his and he is yours. Never did he imagine he’d find the love of his life so soon in college but he’s glad he did. He wants to keep you forever. His hand shifts from your breast and slides down between you so he can rub your clit.

“Oh God, Marcus.” You moan, rocking your hips up to meet his hand and thrusts. “So good baby, fuck, I love you so much.” You kiss and suck on his neck, leaving a mark that you are sure will be visible for days, but you have to claim him as yours. “Gonna cum baby.”

Your gasp has him pushing deeper inside of you, desperate for you to cum. He keeps the same rhythm that has you gasping and his fingers rub your clit. "Cum for me, love. Cum for me." He pleads, wanting to feel it and his own orgasm is imminent.

You keen when you start to come apart. Shaking as your cunt locks down around him on the next thrust and you soak him in waves of your fluids. Chanting his name as if it’s the only word in the world. Knowing that you want your future to be with him as he holds you close.

"Fuck. Yes baby. Oh God." Marcus pants when you clamp down on him, soaking him, and he bites his lip, thrusting a little faster as he seeks his own orgasm. He should last, make you cum again, but your confession has him on edge. He groans and buries his face in your neck, his cock buried deep as he cums, painting your walls with his seed.

“Fuck baby.” You whimper, closing your eyes in pure bliss when you feel him flood your womb. It’s crazy, stupid and not something you need, but for a brief second you wish he was getting you pregnant. That you were going to have his baby. It’s insane to think about and you quickly push it away. “I love you.” You whisper again, happy you can say it out loud now.

“I love you.” He murmurs, shifting to kiss you again while his cock pulses inside of you. He feels like he’s on fire and he can’t seem to get close enough to you. You’re everything to him and he knows he’s going to marry you one day. You are the rest of his life. He pulls out of you and shifts onto his back, bringing you into his chest. “I - I wrote a song for you.” He whispers, heart pounding still from both his orgasm and nerves.

Your head shoots up and you look at him in surprise. “You did?” Your hand that is on his chest seems to curl in, wanting to hold onto him. “What’s it about, sing it to me.” You demand, wanting to know what sort of song he would write for you.

Marcus shifts, grabbing the guitar he has propped up in the corner and he plucks the strings for a moment to make sure it’s in tune. He exhales and looks at you, “I love you baby.” He promises and starts to play, his eyes closed as he concentrates and the lyrics begin a few moments later.

Sitting up, you don’t bother to cover your breasts, knowing that it doesn’t matter when it’s the two of you. You listen, with your heart in your eyes and absorb the words that he has created for you. Falling in love with him a little more with every word.

He finishes the song, his hand pausing over the strings as he takes a moment before he looks up to see your reaction. You have tears in your eyes and he worries you didn’t enjoy it. “I- was it - do you like it?” He asks, voice wavering with his nerves.

Surging forward, the covers fall off your lap. Launching yourself at him and trapping his guitar between you so you can press your lips to his desperately. “I loved it.” You promise, giggling happily, almost drunk off the feeling of being in love with him. “I love you. Oh god, you have to make a tape of it for me, so I can always have it.”

Marcus smiles against your lips, so relieved and happy you loved it. “Of course, baby. I’ll make you a tape.” He promises, shifting back so he can set the guitar back on the stand and he reaches for you, pulling you into his arms. “I love you.” He murmurs, burying his nose in your hair to breathe you in.

Marcus curls around you, his face buried in your neck, and he closes his eyes. It doesn’t take long for him to fall asleep, loving how warm you are against him and he dreams of a life together. Of having kids with you, a home, a dog. The whole nine yards.

****

“Yeah, you know Marcus. He’s great.” You tuck your phone against your shoulder as you look through the rack of dresses. He had told you that he wanted to talk you out somewhere special this weekend and to make sure that you were dressed fancy. Well, as fancy as college kids get, but you are excited. “He probably wants to celebrate saying ‘I love you’, and that’s so fucking sweet. I’m telling you girl, I’m so fucking lucky.”

He steps into the store, glancing around at the crowd and he knows that she’s in the changing room. Her location said so. He steps through the racks, making his way into the ladies changing room and pulls out the gun with the silencer. When she steps out to look in the mirror, he wastes no time shooting her, twice in the chest, once in the head. So quick she barely even registers his presence and he grabs the sunglasses and hat from his jacket, turning it inside out to change his clothing and that’s when you step out. You see her on the floor, blood pouring from her and you look up at the man, his face visible after taking off his hoodie and you scream. He raises the gun, about to shoot you for being a witness but then he hears the commotion of people hearing your scream and he needs to get out of the store before the doors are locked. He rushes off and escapes through the crowds who are panicking when they heard your scream. He can’t risk being caught. He won’t get paid. He memorizes your face and knows he has to find you. He can’t be tied to the crime if there are no witnesses.

****

“I didn’t see where he went. No, I didn’t know him. I didn’t know her.” You tell the detectives again. “But I am telling you that it was this man.” You point to the photo you had picked out of the line up they had given you. It’s been hours, taken down to the station when the police had arrived, you had been shown into the shabby, dreary room and given a single cup of disgusting coffee. “Can I leave now? I just want to call my boyfriend and go home.”

The officers glance at each other, knowing there’s nothing more you can do since you have told them the man who did it. “Fine. You can go.” They say, “but call us if you remember anything else.” He hands you his card and you nod, making your way out of the station. Once you’re on the road, you decide to head straight over to Marcus’s place and when you’re on the back road, you wince when you see the bright lights from the car behind you.

“Go around me, asshole.” You huff under your breath and tap your brakes twice. The car gets closer and then back off, blinding you again and making you hiss. The guy is riding your ass and it’s pissing you off. “Fucking pass me!” You yell, happy when the car revs its engine and you think he’s going to pass. Until your car jolts forward and you realize the crazy bastard has hit you. “What the fuck!”

He revs his engine again, hitting your car once more and you cry out, starting to get scared. His lights are still bright in your rear view mirror and he hits you again, making you skid as you lose control of the car.

Your car spins into the guardrail and the old metal gives way, sending your car down into the embankment of the tiny creek you had been about to cross. Screaming, you see your life flash before your eyes and then nothing but blackness.

He pulls over, wanting to check that you’re dead but just as he starts to pull over, there’s a car coming towards him who pulls over to help you. He speeds off, knowing he can’t risk getting out and he is certain that you’re dead. You have to be. The stranger saw everything and manages to get the plate, writing it on their hand before they get out to see if you’re alive. Thankfully, they have a cell phone and manage to call 911 when they find you unconscious and bleeding, the airbags deployed.

****

“I don’t understand.” Marcus frowns as he looks at his phone, his call going straight to voicemail again. He’s been trying to call you all night and you aren’t answering. He’s worried, you had plans to meet up for dinner tonight and you never showed or messaged him.

“She’s gonna be okay, man. Her phone probably died. She doesn’t charge it for days.” He reminds Marcus who nods, biting his lip. “Yeah. True.” He sighs and glances out of the window, his heart pounding as he imagines all the bad things that could’ve possibly happened to you and he decides to phone the police if you aren’t here or call him within the hour.

****

The first thing you see when you blink is doctors hovering over you. Your name is called and your brow scrunches. “Wha-what happened?” You groan and immediately another face appears in front of you. The detective that you had seen just a few minutes ago at the police station. “What- you?”

The detective shakes his head, “I feared something like this would happen.” He says your name and you frown in confusion at the look on his face. “The man we are looking for is in a notorious crime circle. We worry that he will find you again and kill you because you’re the only witness to his crime. We need to put you into witness protection.”

"What? No, no, I have a date with my boyfriend." You blurt out, not even absorbing what the detective is telling you. "We just said 'I love you'. He's going to be so worried about me. Can I call Marcus? I need to call Marcus."

The detective shakes his head, “I’m sorry. No. We don’t know if they are tapping the lines. Your boyfriend might be in danger and it’s best if he doesn’t know anything about what happened. You need to move. We will arrange everything.” The detective promises, “this is for your safety. Your life is in danger. As soon as we catch him and you testify, he’s in jail. You can’t risk your life, sweetheart.”

You argue with the detective for an hour, until he shows you the pictures of the people the man after you had murdered. Gruesome photos, including a wife and daughter. That’s when you agree and reluctantly check out against medical advice and let the detective lead you away.

****

It’s been days since Marcus heard from you. He’s frantic, your parents don’t know where you are. No one seems to know and the police are dismissing him, saying you’ve likely run off. “She wouldn’t do that. She’s not like that.” He argued but they wouldn’t file a missing person report. He is exhausted, hasn’t slept, and he’s been driving around trying to find you but your apartment is how you left it and your roommate is worried too.

“Marcus, I don’t know what the hell is going on.” Tisha opens the door and lets him in. “All of her stuff is here, she’s not in class, her job hasn’t heard from her. It’s like she’s dropped off the face of the planet.” She rubs her hands over her arms. “I’m worried, especially after that murder at the outlet.”

“I don’t know. She - you know she isn’t like this. I don’t understand. I’m terrified. She’s - fuck - I don’t know what to do.” He sits down, head in his hands as he struggles to figure out what to do. He’s been driving around town for days trying to find you. He’s called everyone you know. No one has seen you. It’s like you’ve disappeared from the planet and his heart breaks when he wonders if you’ve left him, decided you didn’t love him or something changed within you and you’ve left him.

****

Fifteen Years Later:

Living under a new name, having a new life, was supposed to make your life easy. You chew your lip as you sit in your office and wait. The art business was supposed to be low key. Under the radar. You are just a small gallery, although you carried some big name pieces, you are never pictured on the website. Still living under an alias, you know your identity will hold up under light scrutiny, but it still makes you nervous. It’s been a long time, nearly a year, since your handler had called you, letting you know there still is a vague contract out on your life from the asshole you had put behind bars so long ago.

****

“Pike.” Marcus answers his phone, rubbing his forehead as he stares at the file.

“Sir, there’s been another robbery.” His junior agent tells him and he sighs, “I’ll be right there. Send me the address.” He says and hangs up,getting his keys and he’s soon in the car driving to the address he was texted.

When he arrives, the police are already there and he introduces himself to the detective. “The gallery manager is right through here.” The detective says and Marcus makes his way into the gallery. When the officer says the alias name, Marcus looks at you and his jaw drops, your real name coming out of his mouth..

Your name, your real name, hasn’t been said in so long that it takes you a moment to respond. The ghost from your past, the man you thought you would never see again and always regretted that, stands in front of you looking like he’s seen his own ghost. Maybe he has. You panic and shake your head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know that person.” You tell him, praying he doesn’t cause a scene, although you know you have to call Marshal Smith now that your identity has been blown. Your life will be completely uprooted and you had liked working in the art gallery. You tell him your cover name, the one you’ve lived with for the past fifteen years.

Marcus stares at you, knowing he’s not mistaking your face. You’re older, more refined, but he’d know those eyes anywhere. “I- no. No. It’s - it’s been fifteen years. It’s you.” He insists, shaking his head.

“I’m afraid you have the wrong person.” You tell him again, wondering how the hell sweet Marcus Pike became an FBI agent. You repeat your new name again for him with a tolerant smile. “Now, what questions do you have for me agent…Pike, was it?”

He shakes his head again, “no. No. I- fuck. It’s you. It’s gotta be you.” He chokes, getting frustrated. “I thought - I thought you left me. Fuck. I - I can’t do this.” He says to his partner and he rushes out of the gallery.

Your heart breaks, the look on his face was one of pure distress and you swallow harshly. “Let me go see if I can clear this up.” You tell the other agent and the detective. You can see they are curious and you know that it doesn’t matter now. Your life here is over. You hurry after Marcus and see him pacing outside. “Marcus!”

He turns away from you, “don’t. Don’t come near me.” He growls, angry with you. “Don’t - you left. You left me. Don’t - don’t play dumb. I’m not interested in your bullshit answers, okay? The change of name. Don’t - you left me. You left town. Disappeared. And now you want to pretend you’re not who I know you to be?”

He rails at you and you close your eyes at the anguish in his voice. The pain, the fear, the heartbreak of those early years coming back to you quickly. “I- I didn’t want to-“ you start to explain but he cuts you off.

“I don’t want to hear it! You left without the decency to break it off. I thought you were dead.” He is nearly shouting out on the street next to a drab government vehicle and you huff.

“I am in WitSec, Marcus!”

His eyes widen in shock, “what? You- when-? I- shit. When did you- how?” He stammers, trying to figure out what the hell happened and he needs answers. Now. The years of wondering what happened to you, what he did wrong, what he could’ve done differently.

Glancing around nervously, you lower your voice. “The day I disappeared, I saw something I shouldn’t have.” You explain, quickly telling him about the murder you had walked in on.

Marcus is shocked. You witnessed a murder. The murder that happened at the outlet mall. You called your friend - the last person you spoke to - to talk about going out for dinner with Marcus. It makes sense. It fits. Your eyes aren’t lying to him. “I- shit. Seriously?” He asks breathlessly and you nod. He knows how the system works, and dealt with enough witnesses to know you’ll be sent across the country. “I won’t tell anyone. No one will know that you’re here. I promise.

You don’t have to tell the Marshal dealing with your case.”

You shouldn’t, you know you shouldn’t, but you like this life here. And it’s such a relief to know that someone knows who you really are. You try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach because it’s Marcus. You’ve never stopped thinking about him. “You can’t use that name.” You caution him. “There’s still a contract out for my life.” You reveal. “It’s dormant, but only because there’s nothing for them to use to find me.”

Marcus nods, saying the fake name and it’s weird, it doesn’t feel right when he rolls it around his tongue. “I - I don't want you to have to uproot your life again. God, it’s been fifteen years. I- I never stopped wondering what happened to you.” He promises. “Do you- uh, do you want to maybe get dinner? Catch up?”

You freeze for a moment, surprised by the offer and find yourself nodding. “Sure.” You bite your lip. “But it should be at my place. Just in case.” You know that Roberta had an old photo of you and Marcus together from college and Marcus has obviously matured since then, but you can’t risk it. You glance around the street, a nervous habit you’ve picked up since being in WitSec, and then back at him. “Tonight? Or…uh, whenever you want.” You offer. “You have a life, I’m sure.”

Marcus chuckles humorlessly, “not so much. I- I was engaged and she - well, it’s a long story but she went off with her partner. She was a fed too.” He explains, biting his lip as he glances around, his dark eyes meeting yours again. “Tonight.” He nods, not wanting to miss out on catching up. He doesn’t want to waste a second in case you disappear again. “You wanna, uh, write down your address? I can bring take out.” He offers, grabbing his notepad.

“Sure.” You take the notepad from him and write down your address and hand it back to him. “Seven?” You ask and he nods. “So, I’m going to go back in there and talk to your partner. Tell him that you are upset you mistook me for someone else. Is that okay?”

Marcus nods, tucking the notepad back into his jacket and he swallows harshly, the sun hitting you and God, you haven’t changed. Not really. Still so goddamn beautiful. He clears his throat and gestures for you to go back inside. “I’ll tell him. We still need your story about the stolen painting.” He reminds you, stepping inside after you. “Sorry man-” He slaps his partner on the arm, “I thought she was some girl I knew in college. She disappeared and it was a shock. Not her. Just me being a dumb prick.” He jokes and his partner narrows his eyes but accepts the excuse. “So…you wanna tell us about the painting?”

Being involved with the US Marshals, you’ve learned to give a lot of detail, knowing any little thing can be important. You go through the story and try to be as clear as possible, knowing the security footage will be watched as well.

Marcus watches his partner jot down your story and eventually it’s time to go. He doesn’t mention meeting you at seven but nods your way so you know he will be there. He hopes you still like Chinese food. He leaves with your face burned behind his eyes and he’s soon pulling up outside your house, Chinese food in hand when he rings the doorbell.

You hurry towards the door, not calling out because of habit and checking the peep hole before opening. “Marcus.” You didn’t realize how nervous you were until you are looking at the man you had to leave behind so many years ago. Smiling slightly, you open the door. “Come in, you found the apartment alright?”

Marcus nods, “it’s tucked back here but I found it. I’m surprised they didn’t put you in a more secure building. Like a high risk with a security guard and coded doors.” Marcus says and you shrug, “they did at first but now…you know how long it’s been.” Marcus nods, his heart twisting with that realization. “I got you egg rolls and orange chicken. I hope you still like that.”

“That’s perfect.” You lock the door behind him and lead him back into the apartment. “Can I get you something to drink?” You ask. “I have beer, water, some wine, tea. Whatever you like.” You’re rambling, but that’s because you are nervous.

"Uh, a beer sounds good." He says, setting the bag down on the counter. God, it's awkward and he hates it. It used to be so easy with you. He used to spend all his time with you and now, it's like starting all over again even though he knows so many intimate details about you. "Plates?" He asks and you point to the cabinet while you get a couple of beers out of the fridge. He grabs the plates and sets them on the counter then gets the containers from the bag.

“So, what do you want to know?” You ask, opening the bottles and handing him one. You know he must have a million questions and it’s fair. You disappeared out of his life without a word and the thought that this might be closure for him runs through your mind.

“Everything.” He says, his eyes widening a little as he stares at you. “I want to know what you’ve been up to.” He urges and takes a sip of his beer. “It’s been so long and you just disappeared.”

“When I witnessed the murder, I was in denial about the danger I was in.” You admit. “I had left the police station and was driving to your apartment when that bastard ran me off the road. I woke up in the hospital and the detective insisted I needed protection.” You bite your lip. “They told me it was better that no one knows. That Roberta was known to use family and friends to flush out his targets. I couldn’t put you in danger. So they moved me across the country and created a new life for me.”

Marcus knows how it works, understands now how criminals work and operate, how they find people. He shudders when he imagines what could've happened if they had found you. You hand him a fork and spoon and he opens the containers of food so you can serve it up. "I - I get it but - at that time...I went out of my mind trying to find you. I tried everyone you knew, your parents...do they know?"

You bite your lip. “I sent them an anonymous post card, about ten years ago.” You admit quietly. “Just something so they would know, hopefully, that I was safe. I know I broke their hearts, but the Marshall’s are incredibly strict. Especially since Roberta is coming up for some new trial soon.”

Marcus nods, “I moved shortly after you went missing. Ended up in the academy after graduating and I couldn’t sleep. Spent so many nights wondering what happened to you. Even looked you up in the system when I could. I missed you so much. My best friend was gone all of a sudden.”

“Marcus, I-“ you sigh softly and if you had felt like you could, you would reach out and touch his hand. “I’m so sorry. I spent so long - years - wishing I could call you. To explain. Wondering how you were.” Your apology doesn’t seem like it’s enough, but it’s all you can give him. “It took me a long time to get over you, to stop mourning what might have been.”

He sighs, knowing exactly what you mean. He mourned the loss of you, his future with you, for far too long. “I- I ended up getting married. About eight years ago. It didn’t - we got divorced. She didn’t want to compete with the ghost of you.” He admits softly, averting his eyes from yours.

“I’m so sorry.” Your heart sinks, twists and aches in a way that is ridiculous. You left. Of course Marcus had moved on, and the rational side of you wanted him to. To hear that he had, and not in a way that turned out happily, it makes you sad. “Oh Marcus, I’m so sorry.” You murmur quietly, “maybe it would have been better if he had just killed me. Then you, my parents, none of you would have spent so long wondering.”

Marcus chokes on the sip of beer he drank, shaking his head. “Absolutely not. No. I - how could you say that? I would rather you be alive than me have closure. I have closure now and you’re alive. Never say that.” He almost growls, pissed off at you for even thinking it. “Did you…have you got anyone?”

You snort and shake your head. “How?” You ask, motioning around to your apartment. “I live a life that - while comfortable - isn’t mine. No one knows who I really am. I can’t make too close of friends, because I might accidentally reveal something from my real past. A lover? For more than a night or two? No. I couldn’t lie to them. My last real relationship was you.”

He hates that you’ve been alone but he’s also secretly pleased that there’s been no one since. He still feels that flutter in his heart when he looks at you. “I have missed you so much, baby.” He murmurs, setting his fork down so he can look at you properly, for the first time in fifteen years, he takes in every detail.

You smile sadly and nod. “I’ve missed you too, Marcus. I promise you.” You huff and send him a slightly embarrassed look. “I was halfway convinced I was going to marry you after we graduated. Have babies and you and your band were gonna be famous while I designed all your merch. It was my little daydream for a long time.” You admit. “Never thought you would become a Fed.”

Marcus smiles sadly back at you, reaching for your hand. “God…I- I didn’t - I would’ve taken that life in a heartbeat. I still would. I was- shit - I was gonna ask you to marry me. When I graduated. I was gonna ask you.”

It’s so bittersweet to think about that you didn’t even catch where he said he still would. Caught up in your fantasies that had kept you sane while you were scared and alone, tears start to trail down your cheeks. You squeeze his hand and try not to sob.

Marcus shifts closer, standing up so he can wrap his arms around you. “It’s okay baby. It’s okay.” He promises, leaning in to kiss your hair. “It’s okay.” His own eyes sting with tears as he mourns the years he lost thinking you were dead.

You lean into his embrace and inhale the scent of him. The cologne has changed, matured, but the baseline is still Marcus. “I- I missed you so much.” You tell him. “I wanted to bring you. Wanted to see if you would come with me, but I couldn’t.”

“I know.” He does know. Only spouses and children. Not boyfriends. He sighs and breathes you in, “I don’t want to miss you again. Can we start again? As friends?” He asks, knowing he can’t push for more after you’ve had such a trauma and he has his own baggage he needs to divulge at some point.

Friends. You don’t want to be his friend but you nod as you pull back. “Friends.” You murmur with a small smile. “Friends should eat.” You need a moment where he’s not touching you so you can remind yourself that he’s not yours anymore. Despite the fact that you still dream about him, the boy you had loved is not the man in front of you. “And as your friend, I have to tell you that you are still gorgeous. I don’t know how you became better looking, but you have.”

Marcus can’t help it. He blushes and you giggle at the way he flushes. “You, uh, you look way better. Like - God, you look gorgeous. Always were but you seem more refined, grown up. You’re gorgeous, baby.” He promises and he settles back down at the counter so he can continue eating.

You finish your meal, sighing happily when then put your fork down and pick up your beer to finish the last swallow. “It’s been a long time since I’ve enjoyed a dinner like that.” You admit, standing so you can start to clean up. “You mentioned an ex wife and an ex fiancée, so anything else going on in your love life?” You ask causally. Just because you hadn’t moved on didn’t mean Marcus hadn’t. And if you were going to be his friend, you should know.

“It’s complicated. I haven’t been seeing anyone since Teresa. She’s my ex. She, uh, I proposed to her and then she dumped me for her partner. She’s a fed too. It set me back so I have been just enjoying my alone time recently. No one - no one seems to capture my attention.” He says, looking up at you.

“Someone will.” You predict. “I bet you are still a complete gentleman, until….” You bite your lip, aware making sexual comments is well beyond appropriate. “Until it’s time not to be.” You finish lamely and turn around to load the dishwasher.

Marcus bites his lip, remembering all the times you used to moan beneath him. He was a fumbling college kid then. He knows what he’s doing now. He wonders if you’d like his matured sexuality. “You know me too well.” He chuckles softly and stands to help you when the doorbell rings.

You turn towards the door, a flash of fear washing over your face. That same dread you get every time the doorbell rings when you aren’t expecting someone. “I’m not expecting anyone.” You tell him, moving towards the corner of the dining room where you keep a baseball bat.

Marcus shakes his head, pushing you back and reaching under his jacket in habit until he realizes he locked his weapon in his glove box. He reaches for the baseball bat and takes it from you, slowly inching towards the door and opening it. He prepares to swing but there’s no one there. He steps into the hallway and sees no one around and he turns to look at you. “No one here.” He says, frowning until he sees the note on the door.

Marcus brings the note taped to the door into the apartment and your heart drops. It’s not a letter from the building, and instinctively you know it’s trouble. “Shit.” You hiss, nearly in tears. “I- open it.” You ask Marcus. “What does it say?”

He walks in and locks the door behind him, setting the bat down so he can open the note. His eyes scan it first and he hisses in frustration. “It says…it says ‘you can’t hide forever. We know where you are. The appeal is coming and you won’t testify again. We will make sure of it’.” Marcus finishes, his blood boiling that someone has put this on your door.

“Oh God.” Your stomach flips and you swear you are about to lose your dinner. “He’s found me. I- I have to call the Marshall.” Your mind whirls and the protocols that have been drilled into your head come to mind. “I’m sorry.” For a moment you pause, hating that you had found Marcus again, only to be pulled away again. You will be relocated, disappear again and forced to live another life completely different from this one. “I wish- I wish things were different.”

Marcus shakes his head, starting to panic at the thought of losing you again. “He only knows that you live here. Take time off of work. Come- come live with me. I can protect you. He doesn’t know where I am. Please, baby. I- I don’t want to lose you again.” He knows you’d be safer moving across the country again but his selfish need to have you back in his life makes him give you a desperate plea to stay with him.

“I- wha-I- what?” You shake your head. “Marcus, I can’t- I can’t put you in danger. Roberta had connections. I- I should have called the Marshal just as soon as you recognized me.” You admit quietly. You had selfishly wanted to spend a little bit of time with him. “I would never forgive myself if you got hurt because of me.”

Marcus shakes his head, “no. I’m a goddamn fed sweetheart. I can protect you. Let me protect you.I don’t - I can’t lose you again.” He says, “I can keep you safe.”

Your heart melts and you look down at the letter. “We will need to call the Marshal assigned to my case.”

Marcus nods, heart sinking that you’re going to leave again. He swallows harshly, feeling the second chance at possibly being with you slip away and it kills him. He hates it. “Uh, yeah. I’ll, um, give you some privacy. Where’s your bathroom?” He asks, needing to pee.

You show him towards the bathroom and pull out your phone to call the number you have. Taking a deep breath, you hope they will let Marcus watch over you. Your heart beats wildly as the phone rings.

Marcus stares in the mirror, his eyes wide as he thinks about losing you again. He barely survived the first time he lost you. He isn’t sure he can do it again. He swallows harshly and washes his hands, making his way back into the living room to hear what the marshal says.

“Marcus Pike. Yes- yes I know that is my old boyfriend.” You repeat on the phone to Marshal Scott. “He’s an FBI agent. He’s working on a break in at my art gallery.” You pause, your eyes sliding to Marcus as he walks back in the room. “No, no the break in was about a painting. I didn’t think I needed to call you. Yes.” You sigh. “I know I should have called you when he recognized me, but I didn’t. I just- I wanted to be me for a little bit.”

Marcus leans against your kitchen counter, not wanting to interrupt and he’s nervous about the answer. He knows how this works and he is worried about you disappearing and him never seeing you again, just like before.

“No. No, don’t do that.” You have been watching Marcus this entire time and you decide you can’t leave. Scott wants to relocate you again, like you had expected. “He’s an FBI agent. He said I could stay at his place.” That’s not exactly what Marcus had said, but your improvising. “Yes, I’m declining a relocate.” Another long pause while Scott reminds you exactly what Roberta had ordered for you. “Yes, I know. I know I’m risking my life.” You sigh and relax. “I’ll call you with the details.”

Marcus relaxes slightly, glad that you aren’t relocating yet. The marshal could change his mind but he agrees to it for now. You hang up the phone and Marcus offers you a reassuring smile. “You wanna come to mine tonight or tomorrow?”

“Can we go tonight?” You ask quietly. “I don’t like the idea they know where I am.” You shiver slightly and look towards your windows, thankfully already shut and covered. “I’m sorry. I should have asked if it was okay first.”

Marcus nods, stepping closer to you to place his hand on your upper arm. “Of course we can.” He assures you, knowing you have to be scared after so long on the run. “Come on baby, go pack what you need. I can always come back with you if you need something you forget.”

You nod and quickly make your way into the bedroom so you can pack a bag. You’ll have to close the gallery, but that has already been planned because of the break in. At your underwear drawer, you bite your lip, chastising yourself as you throw some lingerie in it. Knowing that it won’t be used, but you can’t help but want to feel a little sexy around the love of your life.

When you come back out, Marcus is already checking the vicinity outside of your window, discreetly looking for any out of place cars or people. “I think it’s clear but you need to stay close to me. We will get your car tomorrow, it needs to be checked and I don’t want them to have put a tracker on it and us not notice and lead them right to you.” He explains and you nod. “You got everything?” He asks. You nod again and he gestures for you to shift behind him. “Stay five paces behind me.”

Your eyes widen at how direct and professional he is. It’s a turn on if you are honest and he transforms from the sweet man you have loved since you were twenty, to a steely eyed agent in front of your eyes. Staying five steps behind him, you stop when he stops and watch as he scans the parking lot before hustling you to his car.

Marcus pushes you into his car and grabs your bag to put it in the trunk before he makes his way to the driver's side. He gets in and checks his surroundings before he’s pulling away from your apartment complex. “I’ll take the long way home. Looping around just in case someone follows.” He explains and he turns the radio off, wanting to concentrate. “How many times have you moved?” He asks? Wanting to know.

“Four.” You admit, nervously glancing behind you every twenty seconds. “They found me once right after they arrested Roberta. Then they followed the agents when I testified. And once more when an old high school friend ended up being in the same town.” You bite your lip. “When they followed the agents, they killed them.” You don’t want that to happen to Marcus. “Maybe it’s better if you put me in a hotel.”

Marcus shakes his head, fingers tightening on the steering wheel. “No. No. I’m not sending you off. I- I can’t do that. I can’t - I’d never see you again. I know I’m being selfish but I can keep you safe. You just have to listen to everything I tell you.” He says, “I don’t want to lose you.”

Listening to him ramble, you realize how much your disappearance affected him. “I’m so sorry.” You murmur quietly, wanting to reach out and touch him, but it would distract him. “Am I-“ you break off and then take a breath. “Why did you go into the FBI, Marc?” You ask softly. You don’t want to assume that you are the reason that he changed his career goals, but it was a bit of a stretch from music and business - to appease his parents - to being an FBI agent.

Marcus sighs, biting his lip for a moment before he responds back to you. “I- I was so desperate to find you when you disappeared. Just to know what happened. If you were dead or if I did something wrong. I wanted to have closure so I figured that becoming a cop would get me access but I decided to go further and become a fed. Went to Quantico and even when I graduated and started my first job, I couldn’t find you in the system. Business wasn’t going to get me answers. Music certainly wasn’t.”

“I - I’m so sorry.” You can never apologize enough, and you can only hope that his job fulfills him. That he enjoys the work he does. “I wish I had gotten to talk to you one last time before I left. I begged them, cried for weeks and they even had to hospitalize me because I was so sick from crying. My entire world was gone and it nearly killed me.”

Marcus swallows harshly, hating to hear that. “Sweetheart, I wish - there’s so much I would change but I like my job. I like helping people and putting bad guys away. It’s fulfilling and I can help change peoples lives. I wish- I wish it was me who was sent away. I would’ve traded places with you in a heartbeat.”

“This life has been hard, Marc.” You shake your head. “It’s lonely and I wouldn’t wish that on you. You are too social. You like being around people, talking to people too much. And your parents…..” you had loved how welcoming his parents were when you met them. It would have killed them to lose their only child.

He wishes he could turn back the clock. Stop you going to that damn outlet mall and keep you safe with him so he wouldn't have missed you for fifteen years. Marcus nods, knowing he would’ve found it hard but he would’ve done it if it meant keeping you safe. “I - I could’ve dealt with it.” He says, shifting his hands on the steering wheel. “I love - I loved you so much.” He murmurs, pulling into his community.

“I loved you too.” It’s easy to admit, even if all those old feelings are rushing back with astonishing speed. Not that you ever really fell out of love with him. You admire the neat brick of the stately townhomes. “Wow, you found one here?” You ask, knowing that you had never managed to find anything close to this when you had been looking.

Marcus smiles, “yeah. I…I was supposed to move in here with my fiancé but- that one. Yeah. I- I envisioned having a family here and it didn’t happen but it is what it is.” He says, sounding a little sad but he can’t help but mourn a life he could’ve had.

“I’m sorry.” It hurts to think of Marcus with someone else, but it's been fifteen years. You don’t have any claim on him. “Hopefully one day you will have the life you want. I would just love to use my name. My real name. It seems like getting married and having kids is the dream of another life. I used to look forward to it, but now?” You shrug. “Life hasn’t turned out the way either of us wanted it seems.”

Marcus nods, "I know." He murmurs and he kills the engine of his car. "Shall we go inside?" He asks, wondering if you are ready. "I'm gonna get out first and make sure there's no one in the vicinity and then I will get you in, then grab your bag." He says, leaving no room for argument when it comes to your safety.

You nod, watching as he steps out of the car and you clutch your purse. It’s overwhelming, watching his dark eyes roam over the parking lot and then he walks over to you and opens the door. He’s professional, but there’s more to it, this is personal for him and it makes you shiver. Feeling for the first time in fifteen years like you might be safe.

When Marcus opens his front door, he disarms it and locks the door behind you, telling you to wait there while he checks his home hasn’t been found. After sweeping the home, he comes back into the hallway and nods, “all clear.” He says and you make your way into his home.

Marcus’ home is exactly what you would imagine adult Marcus to have. Neat and clean, the furniture is a bit on the masculine side but there are touches of softness. A three wick candle on the coffee table, a soft looking throw over the back of the leather sofa. Comforting and inviting. You wipe your hands on your pants and sigh.

“I hope you like it here. I’m sorry it’s basic. It’s just me.” He chuckles awkwardly. “I can show you to the guest room. Let me grab your bag. I’ll lock the door on my way out.” He says and makes his way back down the hall.

You look around the living room and step into the dining room and kitchen as he opens the front door. Curious about how he lived. You open the fridge door and chuckle, not seeing much and guessing that Marcus still prefers to have someone else cook for him. He wasn’t very good at it. At least he wasn’t when you were together. Though he had all the proper cookware. Cooking had become a hobby of yours, something you could do alone. You close the door and your head turns towards the door as it opens again. Tense and hoping it’s Marcus.

He walks in with your bag, licking the door behind him, alarming the alarm system. He guides you along to his spare room, opening the door. “Hopefully it’s okay.” He says shyly, offering you a soft smile.

“It’s perfect.” It could be the couch for all you care, it’s the thought that counts. Marcus is taking you into his home. “Thank you, Marc.” Reaching out and touching his shoulder, you give him a grateful smile. “I know you didn’t have to do this. Is there any way we could have some groceries delivered? Let me cook for you to thank you?”

Marcus smiles, “yeah. I’d love that. We can arrange for groceries to be delivered.” He promises and shrugs, “I’m still as bad a cook as I ever was. It would be nice to have some home cooked meals for a change. Takeout has me doing more morning runs.” He playfully taps his stomach.

“Whatever.” You scoff, rolling your eyes. “You’re hotter now than you were back then.” You blurt out, feeling your face burn when you realize you said that out loud. It could be wrong, but you don’t think so. Not when Marcus suddenly ducks his head and you swear you see him blush some. “I’m assuming I’m staying here until the threat is gone?” You ask. “No work?”

He nods, “no work. We can’t risk them finding you there.” He says and you sigh but concede. “For the record, you have always been gorgeous. Even more so now.” He says, biting his lip and hoping he didn’t overstep.

“And you still know how to make a girl feel like the only one in the world.” You murmur quietly, stepping closer to him and wishing that it hadn’t been fifteen years since you had last seen him. “Do you know how much that affects a girl?”

Marcus blushes slightly, feeling like a college kid again despite a divorce and a failed engagement. He’s been around the block and he is scared to screw things up, especially when he has to keep you safe. He clears his throat and reaches for your hand to squeeze it. “I have missed you, sweetheart.”

“If it’s not something you want, or you can’t, let me know.” You start off, deciding that you want to take a leap and see if Marcus still wants you. “But…” you step closer. “If I have to be in your house, protected by you….” You smirk and bite your lip. “Wouldn’t I be safest in your bed?”

Marcus swallows harshly, a little nervous but his cock is already hardening at the thought of having you in his arms. He steps closer until his chest is pressed against yours. “I think that would probably be best.” He agrees, “that way I can ensure your well-being.” He murmurs, his eyes darting down to your lips. He knows he’s crossing so many professional lines but fuck, he wants you. “I shouldn’t but-” He surges forward to press his lips to yours, unable to stop himself.

You moan into the kiss, immediately tangling your fingers into his hair and tugging on it like you used to. In an instant, you feel like you are in your twenties again, hopelessly in love and needing your boyfriend. “Marcus.” You whimper, pulling back so you can push his jacket off his shoulders and pause when you see his gun. “Take me to your bed and make love to me.”

He groans, reluctantly pulling back and he takes your hand, guiding you to his bedroom. He flicks the lamp on and works on removing his gun, checking the safety and setting it down on his nightstand before he shrugs out of the holster. He pulls his tie off and reaches for you, grabbing the hem of your shirt to pull it out of your skirt, wanting to touch you after so many years. “God, you’re still so fucking gorgeous.” He murmurs, his eyes drinking you in when you are in your bra.

Your fingers work the buttons of his dress shirt, trying to remember the last time you had been this excited to sleep with someone. You’ve had lovers over the years, the physical needs making it almost certain you would have them, but no one had ever compared to Marcus. “Fuck,” you can see the tent he’s starting to sport, obviously still a boxers man.

Marcus fumbles to unclasp your bra, needing to touch you and when you drop your arms to let him pull it off of you after you push his shirt down his arms, his hands immediately cup your tits. “Have these gotten bigger?” He asks, squeezing them and massaging them.

“Yes.” Your eyes flutter closed as he touches you, managing to blindly push his shirt over shoulders that seem broader than they used to be. He’s in an undershirt, of course he is, and you love it. “I’m bigger.” You joke.

He shakes his head and reluctantly releases you so he can pull his shirt over his head with one hand. Once it’s fluttering to the floor, he’s reaching for you and pulling you against him so he can feel your skin on his. “Forgot how beautiful your tits are.” He says and leans down to kiss along your neck.

“Fuck Marc.” You moan, tilting your head back so he can kiss more of your skin. “You always were a tits man.” You tease him, reaching between you to squeeze his hard cock through his suit trousers.

He groans into your skin, inhaling the sweet scent that’s purely you. Burned into his memory from all those years ago and it’s like coming home. His lips kiss along your chest until he’s taking your nipple into his mouth, his hands caressing your back and sliding down to squeeze your ass as he hunches over you.

Gasping out in pleasure, you pull him towards your breast. Enjoying the way that he suckles and bites, the way he’s remembered how you like to be touched. He switches over to the other breast and he slides his hand around you to start unbuttoning your pants.

Marcus works fast to push your skirt down your legs, groaning your name as he exposes your underwear and he kneels, pushing his nose against your mound. “God, I forgot how good you smell.” He groans and hooks his fingers in the cotton, dragging them down and you kick your panties aside after kicking your shoes off of your feet. Marcus dives back in, his nose pressing into your folds as his tongue slides through them, tasting you for the first time in fifteen years.

“Marc!” Your cry is strangled, almost choked out as you grasp for anything to keep you upright. Hand slapping against the wall as you remember exactly why you loved Marcus’ tongue so much. His skills have only improved with time and you moan when he flicks his tongue over your clit expertly.

His fingers curl around your leg, lifting it into his shoulder so he can get deeper into your pussy. His tongue pushing deep and he groans your name. “Fuck baby. So good.” He murmurs into your flesh when he pulls back for a moment, “always tasted so good.” He dives back in and slides his tongue through your folds, sucking your clit into his mouth.

Having Marcus eat you out is like a gift from God. Most men are lazy with it, or refuse to go down on someone even though they expect a blowjob. Marcus eats pussy like he was born to do it, like it’s his favorite sport in the world. Making you shiver when he groans into your folds and your leg trembles as he pushes you closer to cumming.

He pushes you further into the wall, keeping you upright and his hand slides along your leg and up your body to squeeze your tit, pinching your nipple and his other hand slides between your legs, pushing two fingers inside of you with a groan. He desperately wants you to cum for him now.

“Oh fuck, Marc baby, baby, I’m gonna cum.” You moan, your head hitting the wall with a thud and your entire body lurches forward. “Shit, gonna- gonna cum.” Your walls clench down on him and you wail his name as you soak his fingers.

Marcus hisses into your flesh as you clamp down on his fingers, soaking them, and he sucks on your clit a little harder, wanting to absorb every second of your orgasm after so many years apart. His fingers pump inside of you and he pulls his mouth away when you start to shove on his hair and he tilts his head up so he can watch you as you cum.

Desperate little gasps rip out of your throat as he keeps your body jerking and twitching for him. Knowing exactly where to press inside you cunt in order to push another sob out of you. Your eyes are closed and you start chanting his name. “Marc, Marc, Marc baby, please.”

He wants you to cum again. His fingers keep pressing and pushing inside of you, his lips kissing along your thigh and he presses his thumb against your clit. “So good for me baby.” He murmurs, needing you to cum for him.

Your eyes spring open when you realize he wants you to roll straight into a second orgasm. “Fuck!” You squeal, feeling your walls bear down on his fingers again and your body shakes as you come apart.

His fingers curl and he kisses your stomach as he enjoys the way your walls are fluttering around his fingers. He adds a third, stretching you out and his thumb rubs your clit a little harder, “so pretty. Never forgot how pretty you are like this.”

“Marcus.” You groan. “I need you.” You reach down and try to pull him up so you can kiss him. “I want you inside me.” You beg. “I have an IUD and it’s been over a year since I’ve been with anyone. More like two.”

“Cum on my fingers and I’ll fuck you.” He promises, kissing your stomach again and his free hand reaches for yours to grip it. “Cum for me again.” He pleads, wanting to see you do it.

“Three?” You gasp out, holding onto his hand like a lifeline as you try to stay upright. Your leg threatens to give out as he continues to pump his fingers into you deep and precise. Pressing against that special spot again. Your breath echoes in your ears until stars burst behind your eyes and you scream out his name.

He nearly loses it when you cum again, clamping down on his fingers and he works you through it until you are slumping over him. He withdraws his fingers, surging forward to press his lips to yours as your leg is still wrapped around his waist as he presses you against the wall while his tongue tangled with yours.

You moan, tasting yourself on his tongue and not minding it one bit. Wrapping your arms around him and pulling him close. Needing to feel him against you as he presses you into the wall.

Marcus needs you. He scrambles to pull you along with him and soon he’s laying you down on his bed, working on his pants to push them down. He groans in relief at finally having his cock free and you whimper in response at seeing it again. He kicks off his shoes and hops out of his pants, eventually ending up kneeling on the bed.

“God, I missed you.” You whisper, drinking in the sight of him. He’s filled out, not quite as skinny as he was in college. Broader and stronger and he still turns you on more than any other man you’ve ever been with. “Come to me, baby.” You reach out for him, wanting to feel him again.

Marcus can’t deny you anymore. He shifts between your legs, his chest heaving as he grips his cock and notches himself at your entrance. His dark eyes meet yours in the lamplight as he starts to push inside of you. Shifting to his forearms so he can press his lips to yours.

It’s overwhelming and perfect. Your lips melting against his as the girth of him stretches you out. Filling you perfectly like you’ve never been able to replicate with anyone else. Your eyes flutter closed and all you can do is moan your pleasure.

He slides his tongue against yours, enjoying the way you seem to melt beneath him. There’s so much he wants to say but he can’t. He can’t tell you how much he loves you when he can show you. He moves his hips, setting a slow place, his lips shifting to kiss down your neck.

Instead of being frantic and rushed, you find the pace turning slow and steady. Making you groan as you start to rock you hips in rhythm with him. Your fingers caress his back and you feel the muscles dance underneath the skin. “Marcus.”

He should be frantic but after so many years without you, he just needs to feel all of you. He moans your name into your skin, his cock twitching inside of you when your nails dig into his back when he hits something deep inside of you. “Missed you. Missed this so much.” He murmurs, his heart pounding in his chest.

“I missed you too, baby.” You promise him, closing your eyes and smiling as he moans again. “Fuck, I - I love you.” You confess. “I’ve never stopped, it’s always been you.”

Marcus swears his heart stops at that moment. “Always been you.” He echoes, “I love you. I love you. Baby, I love you.” He declares breathlessly and his pace gets a little faster with his need to see and hear you fall apart beneath him again.

Wrapping your legs around his waist, you moan his name again. “I love you.” You pant. “Marcus, I love you. Oh, it’s so good.” Your nails dig into his shoulders and your cunt squeezes him tight. “Baby, I’m gonna cum.”

You gasp and he keeps the pace and thrust of his hips the same, not wanting to change when you tell him you’re about to cum. He wants to feel it. He wants to feel you soak him again. “That’s it sweetheart. Do it. Cum for me.”

You want to stay in this moment forever. The way that his body is slick with sweat and his grunts as he rocks into you. The warmth of his breath washing over your skin and the throbbing of the veins in his cock against your walls. Still, he had begged you to cum and that’s all you can. Your body primed for it and the next thrust as your back arching and your cry ripping from your throat.

“Fuck.” Marcus pants when you clamp down on his cock. It’s so good and he loves it. He loves everything about this moment. It’s more than anything he’s experienced since you disappeared from his life. Even his marriage could never have lived up to this. He groans, knowing he should try and make you cum again but the emotions are too much and he’s soon pushing deep inside of you, cock twitching as he paints your walls with his hot seed.

Once he collapses on top of you, you can’t help but giggle. Relief, joy and happiness all roll together to make you try to catch your breath while you stroke his back and kiss his shoulder and neck. “God. I have to be dreaming.” You giggle. “This is the best dream and I don’t want to wake up.”

Marcus shifts onto his back, bringing you with him and his cock is softening inside of you. His hands rubbing your back. “Me neither. I never want to lose you again.” He murmurs, eyes closed as he breathes you in.

You hum in agreement, unable to believe that you are back in his arms and you close your eyes. Relaxing into a deep sleep, finally feeling safe for the first time in fifteen years.

Marcus holds you as you fall asleep, not able to fall asleep just yet and he shifts carefully to lay you down. You stir without his heat but he’s quick to cover you up. He sneaks into the bathroom, wetting a rag to clean you up and covers you with the duvet again. He checks the windows and doors, making sure the home is secure and the alarm is set before he grabs two bottles of water and sets one down on the nightstand for you. He slides under the covers and you immediately reach for him, curling into his chest. Wrapping his arms around you, he breathes you in and closes his eyes; deciding then and there that he will do whatever it takes to keep you safe.

****

Glancing at the clock as you stir, you wonder when Marcus will be home. Grinning to yourself as you realize that you think of this townhouse as home. It’s only been a few days, but if you are scared, you don’t feel like it. You’ve been puttering around the house when he has to leave, curling up with him when he’s here. It’s been magical and it makes you yearn for the life you would have had together if you hadn’t been put into witness protection.

Marcus is exhausted, rubbing his forehead as he stares at the latest security footage where he’s trying to find Roberta. On top of trying to find the art thief, he’s personally working to try and find the gang making you conceal from the world. He feels guilty that he’s loved having you in his home, coming home to you every night. It’s like living a fantasy of what if he had proposed and you hadn’t disappeared. He loves it. He loves you. It’s hard to remind himself that you’re in danger and he has to help you otherwise it could be your life. He glances at the clock and decides to call it a day, wanting to go home to you.

The table is set and there’s a bottle of wine open to breathe. It might be a little over the top for a Tuesday night, but you have nothing else to do but work on some recipes that you have been wanting to try. A little romantic and it pairs well with the lingerie that you had decided to put on under your dress. Feeling a little like a 1950’s housewife when you hear the designated three raps on the door to say that Marcus is home.

Marcus unlocks the door, disarming the alarm and resetting it with his entrance and he makes sure the door is locked behind him before he sets his briefcase down and makes his way into the kitchen. “Hey sweetheart. God, that smells good.” He groans, looking over at the stove and he reaches for you, dragging you into his chest so he can press his lips to yours.

“Hey.” You light up when you see him again. “I hope you’re hungry.”

“Starving. I can eat too.” He teases, smirking at you and you giggle and slap his chest. “I love you.” He murmurs, nudging his nose against yours, “can’t believe I get to come home to you every night.” He confesses, “feels like a goddamn dream and I’m gonna wake up at some point.”

“I do too.” You agree softly, your hand sliding down to caress his cheek. “It’s been such a treat, as horrible as that sounds. I know I can’t go outside and my life is in danger, but I get to have you.” You lean in and kiss him softly. “How was your day, baby?”

“Don’t worry baby. I’m gonna find him. I’ll make sure you’re safe.” He promises, leaning in to kiss you softly again. “Day was…laborious. I was going over the security footage and files for both cases and I- I am trying to run through accounts but the bureaucracy slows me down.” He confesses with a frown.

“Then it sounds like a good meal and a relaxing night is just.” You kiss his chin. “What.” Your lips brush his cheek. “You.” Another to his nose. “Need.” You smirk as you kiss his lips. “I’m thinking that after you eat, you need a nice, long, luxurious blow job to put you at ease.”

Marcus chuckles, his hands sliding down to squeeze your ass. “You’re too good to me, baby.” He shakes his head, “as long as I get to eat you out too.” He murmurs, leaning in to kiss along your jaw just as the timer for your cooking goes off. He smacks your ass, “I’ll pour the wine and I’m doing the washing up. You are gonna relax after.” He insists, shrugging off his jacket to hang it in the hallway before he comes back in to get the bottle of wine.

You would protest, but you’ve cleaned as you cooked, so there’s only the final dish and the plates that would need to be cleaned up. You rush to plate up dinner and admire him as he rolls up his sleeves to pour the wine after he pulls off his tie. It’s a nice night, the two of you and a good meal, some wine and continuing to learn about each other’s lives while you’ve been apart. “Oh, before I forget, I called Scott today. Checked in. He’s still not happy, but he says you have been keeping them in the loop, so he’s content to leave me here.”

Marcus nods, setting the wine bottle down. “I know he’s not happy but it is what it is. We haven’t had any notes or any threats since you’ve been here. We’ve had a man outside your place since you left and they haven’t seen any activity. I think you’re safe. No, I know you’re safe.” He tries to assure you, “and I swear to you I’ll find the bastard and his team.”

“I know you will.” You’ve learned a lot about his career and exactly how good of an agent Marcus is. “I’m honestly-“ you shrug. “I’m happy right here. I know I’m probably intruding on your personal space, but I’ve been as relaxed as I could possibly be, given that someone is trying to kill me.” You joke.

Marcus shakes his head, reaching for you. “There’s nowhere else I want you to be than right here with me. I was selfish. You’d be safer across the country but I - I couldn’t lose you again. I love you so much.” He says, leaning in to kiss your forehead again.

Marcus chuckles, letting go of you so you can both sit down to eat. He groans at the sight of the meal you’ve cooked and his stomach rumbles. “I gotta get bigger pants. I haven’t eaten this good since I left my mom’s house.” Marcus chuckles, picking up the serving spoon. “You are too good to me.” He murmurs, looking up to meet your gaze and he serves your plate first.

“Not with all the exercise you’ve been getting.” You tease, sending him a small wink. Every night Marcus has exhausted you. Fucking you in every room of this townhouse and almost every surface with his insatiable appetite for you. Both of you collapse into bed to sleep in each other's arms. It’s like you’re twenty again. “Still sexy and fit.”

He can’t help but flush as he serves himself and sets the spoon down. “The exercise has been keeping me fit.” He says while blushing and he reaches for the glass of wine. “To still being sexy and fit.” He toasts and you clink your glass with his. “I know you are getting bored in this place. I’m doing everything I can to get this bastard so you can have your life back. See your parents. Your friends. I’m doing what I can.” He promises after you have finished eating.

“I would love to see my parents.” You admit, reaching out and gasping his hand. “Would you- would you come with me?” You ask. “When I go to see them? Explain what happened? I understand if you can’t, you’re putting off so much to help me.”

Marcus nods, “of course. Of course I’ll be there. Baby, what - this is-” He swallows harshly and squeezes your hand, “every day I allow myself to believe that this is our life together. I have a little fantasy that I’m coming home to my wife. To our family. I imagine us having a child or two. I- I want this to be forever. Like I wanted it to be forever fifteen years ago. It’s always been you.” He promises, feeling guilty for being married and engaged but those failed because those women never matched up.

He’s apologized to you for not looking for you harder, for moving on. All things that you never expected and don’t want him to be upset over. Those expressive eyes search yours and you smile softly. “It’s been my little fantasy too.” You confess. “When you find Roberta and I can be myself again, why don’t we make that a reality?” You ask. “Would you marry me, Marcus?”

“In a heartbeat.” He assures you, “I’d marry you tomorrow if I could. I- I was going to, you know, I was going to propose not long after I played you that song. I always imagined my life with you. No one else. Even when I was married, I thought of what could have been. I want to marry you.” He promises, “and I will. I’ll get Roberts and you can be Mrs. Pike. Have the life we should’ve had.”

You can’t help but grin, leaping up from your chair so you can rush around and press your lips to his in a greedy kiss. Feeling like every dream you’ve created to keep yourself sane is coming true. Marcus is your knight in shining armor and you want nothing more than for him to rescue you. “Whatever you need me to do, to help you put this behind us, I’m willing to do.” You promise him. “I want to start my life with you.”

Marcus pulls you into his lap, cupping your cheek so he can kiss you again. “I love you.” He murmurs, nudging your nose, and he will do anything he can to keep you safe. Even if it means laying down his own life. He will do it to keep you safe.

“Baby, don’t worry about cleaning up, let’s go to bed.” You beg, caressing his cheek. “I need you. I need you so much.”

Marcus can’t refuse you. He nods, shifting to stand up with you and he takes your hand, dishes abandoned as he guides you to the bedroom, your now shared bedroom. When he is holding you after you’ve made love and you’re asleep, he’ll stare at the ceiling, trying to think of anything that he read in the files to help him catch the bastard that’s after you.

You decide that you don’t want Marcus to undress you. Pulling away from him with a smile, you’re happy you decided on a wrap dress that is easily removed. Most morning Marcus leaves you in the bed, pulling away quietly so he doesn’t disturb you and when you wake up, it’s because of the shower. So he didn’t see the lingerie you had chosen for him.

Marcus groans when you unravel your dress. His eyes drinking in the silk and lace clinging to your body and his cock is now throbbing in his slacks. “Fuck baby. You look so good.” He murmurs, “so good. I’m so lucky to have you.” He declares and surges forward to wrap his arms around you, pulling you close so he can press his lips to yours, pushing the dress off of your shoulders.

Moaning softly, you smile into the kiss, just as eager. Just as wanting as Marcus. Your fingers memorizing how many buttons it takes to strip off his smart dress shirts. Eager to feel his warm skin underneath. “Make love to me Marcus.” You beg.

He won’t say no, couldn’t say no even if he wanted to. He wants you. Fuck, he wants this for the rest of his life. When your hands touch his chest, he groans your name and he unclasps the pretty lace bra, “so pretty. Look so pretty in this.”

“I think you like me in anything.” You tease him, giggling quietly. “But you love me in nothing.” You work on his belt to unclasp it and unhook his pants to reach down and squeeze his cock. Groaning when you feel how hard he is.

“Love you in anything and nothing at all. Love every inch of you.” He promises, “I love you. You.” He murmurs, sliding his hands along your back and then your arms as he slides the straps down your arms until he’s ducking down to take your nipple into his mouth.

There’s something about Marcus, he’s thorough. He wants his partner to be satisfied and he finds what makes them tick. Your moan of his name is soft, accompanied by your wrist twisting, starting to pump his cock as best you can. “Baby, no foreplay. I just need you.” You whine.

He whines back, having wanted to eat you out but he doesn’t deny you. He nods, guiding you back towards the bed and he lays you down while he shrugs out of his pants and throws his clothes on the floor. His hands trail along your legs until he’s hooking his fingers into your panties to drag them down.

“Marcus.” You whimper, rocking your hips up as he stands straight and strips his trousers down. His boxers have a large tent in the middle with a wet spot and you groan at the sight. “Fuck, I want you to fuck me, but I want to suck your cock.”

Marcus smirks, “tell me what you want baby. Whatever you want is yours. I’m yours.” He promises and reaches down to shove his boxers down. His cock bouncing as he kicks them aside.

“Fuck.” You moan, biting your lip before you turn around and tilt your head off the end of the bed. “Fuck my throat, baby. I want to feel you gag me before you fuck me stupid tonight.” Making love takes various forms, after all.

“Jesus. Such a dirty little girl, aren’t you?” He coos, shuffling closer and he caresses your neck before gripping his cock. He pushes the head between your lips and you take him inside of your mouth, making him groan. “So damn good.” He murmurs, watching you as you take him deeper, his hand immediately going to your neck so he can feel the bulge from his length.

You moan, enjoying the look on his face until your vision is blocked by his body. Letting him use your throat as you try to open it up more for him. Marcus is girthy and it’s a lot, tears leaking out of your eyes and rolling back into your hair, but you love it.

“Jesus Christ. This is - fuck. You’re gonna make me cum.” He grunts, pulling out of your mouth. He wants to try that again another time when he can properly fuck and cum down your throat but that night isn’t tonight after you’ve confessed you want a future with him. You pant, trying to catch your breath and he caresses your cheek. “How do you want me?” He asks, wanting you to decide.

So much of the time, Marcus is in control. Giving you pleasure and making sure that you enjoy yourself. Right now, you want to take care of him. “I want to ride you baby.” You decide, sitting up and reaching for him. “Let me take care of my future hubby tonight.” You coo, grinning at how that sounds.

He grins, nodding as he shifts to lay down on the bed, watching you move to your knees. “Come here, my love.” He beckons you over, needing to feel every emotion he’s withheld over the past fifteen years. He wants you to take what you want from him.

You go eagerly, crawling up his body and dropping random kisses. There’s nothing about Marcus that you don’t love. When you straddle his waist, your waist no time in dropping a kiss on his lips while you reach between the two of you to grasp his cock and quickly sink down on him.

“Shit.” Marcus hisses, his heart about to beat out of his chest and he swears he could die then and there and be a happy man. His hands find your hips as you take all of him inside of you and he groans your name, surging up to deepen the kiss as his tongue slides into your mouth.

You start off slow. Rolling your hips while you groan into the kiss. Circling them and clenching down on Marcus to hear the lovely little gasp he gives. Your fingers find his hair and you swear you could live right here. “Love you.” You promise, sliding your hands onto his chest and pushing upright. “Whenever someone touched me, it felt so wrong. You’re my love, my lover, my soulmate.”

Marcus slides his hands along your back as you start to rock on his cock. "I love you. I love you so much, sweetheart." He murmurs, caressing you and his dark eyes watch you as you move on top of him. "You're everything. My everything." He promises, heart thumping in his chest.

“One day I want to have your babies.” You promise him, moaning softly at the thought. “You were made to be a daddy, and I can’t wait to see you holding our baby.” You clench down around him again at the thought.

Marcus groans, cock twitching inside of you at the thought. "Fuck." He grunts, hands sliding down to squeeze your ass. "Fuck yes. I want - God, I want to get you pregnant." He confesses, "always imagined you as the mother of my children."

You know it ticks off some primal things for Marcus, it does for you too. You moan softly again and rock forward to kiss him. “I want that. At least two.” You pant into his mouth, imagining the two of you as new parents. Building the life you had daydreamed about when you were incredibly lonely.

“At least.” He agrees, knowing he won’t be able to keep his hands off of you when he gets you pregnant. “God, I love - I can’t not love you. Haven’t stopped since you left. No one was you. They were never you.” He confesses, helping you rock on his cock.

Your heart melts at that sentiment. Smiling against his lips as he continues to help you ride him. Slowly speeding up to where his cock hits perfectly inside you. Feeling him twitch every time he is seated deep as if he is ready to fill your womb with his seed.

"Are you going to cum for me, sweetheart? What do you need? Tell me what you need to soak my cock?" He asks, wanting to feel it, he needs to feel it.

“Just you baby.” You gasp, slapping your hands down in his chest and starting to rock faster. “Gonna cum baby, fuck, you feel so good.” You moan. “So full, fuck, you’re so thick, baby.” You always love how thick he is and how well he fills you up. “Love you, so fucking much.”

“That’s it. That’s it sweet girl. Fuck, that’s it. Cum for me.” He begs, sweat beading on his forehead as he watches you rock your hips a little faster. Those little whines and whimpers escaping your mouth tell him you’re close and he slides his hand down to rub your clit.

Your toes curl and you cry out, your orgasm slamming into you and making you lurch forward. Collapsing again this chest and chanting his name over and over as your body spasms.

Marcus groans at the way you clamp down on his cock and he moves fast to lay you on your back. Grabbing your thighs to lift them onto his waist so he can sink deep into your quivering cunt. He groans your name, his cock twitching inside of you as he gets close but he needs you to cum more time for him.

“Baby!” You squeal, feeling your body tense up as you ride out your orgasm. You would beg him to cum but you can tell from the look in his eyes that he has no intention of cumming until you do again. Marcus prides himself on making you cum multiple times. “Fuck baby.” Your nails scratch down his back and you tighten your thighs around him, closing your eyes and feeling your core start to tighten again as he rockets you to another orgasm.

Marcus pushes deeper, harder, the affection from before replaced with pure lust. Driven by the need to claim you, he thrusts into you over and over again. “Cum.” He chokes, needing to feel it and when you clamp down on his cock for the second time, he can’t help but paint your walls with his hot seed as he orgasms with you.

Moaning his name softly, you stroke his back as he groans. Enjoying the softness of his embrace as you both start to relax. “I love you.” You murmur quietly. “I can’t want to start our life together.”

Marcus presses his forehead to your chest, breathing you in, and he murmurs, "me too baby. I can't wait. Once you're safe, it's the two of us for the rest of our lives." He promises, kissing along your neck. "I love you."

After you’ve cleaned up and settled against Marcus, you fall asleep. Wondering when the shoe is going to drop and worrying that you might lose him again.

****

Marcus checks the time, knowing he should be calling you to touch base. He likes to call every hour or so to make sure everything is okay at home. He picks up his cell, dialing the burner phone he got you and he waits for it to ring. No answer. Weird. He doesn’t like that. He tries again. No answer.

At first, you thought Marcus was home, until there was no rap at the door. Abandoning the meal you were prepping, you grab your phone, your heart pounding in your chest as you race up the stairs as quietly as you can. Reaching the second floor just as the door opens and the blare of the alarm sounds out, though it’s quickly silenced. The phone buzzes but all you can think is that you need to hide, as fast as possible and call Marcus. It’s seems as if you’ve been found.

When you finally answer the phone, Marcus can’t help but ask if you’re okay. Frantic when you answer and don’t actually speak. “Baby. Tell me. Tell me if you’re okay. Please. I -talk to me. Talk to me.” He begs, needing to hear that you’re okay.

Your mouth is dry and you can barely whisper. “Marcus.” You manage. “He’s here. Someone’s in the house.” You try to keep your voice as low as you can, terrified that you will give away your hiding spot under the bed.

Marcus’s blood runs cold when he hears your whisper and he fears for your life. He grabs his work landline, dialing his team to get people over to his house right away. He’s terrified for you. “Just hold on baby. Stay on the phone. I’ll be right there.” He promises, standing up from the desk so he can get home.

“Hurry.” You breathe out, turning the volume down and holding your breath as you hear the first signs of someone downstairs since the alarm went off.

Marcus shoves himself away from his desk, heart pounding as he rushes towards his car after telling his team about how he has to get to you. He can’t lose you again. His heart pounds and he speeds, his team following as he gets to his home in record time.

You never realize how loud you are when you breathe until you are trying to be completely silent. Scrunching back under the bed as far as you can go and slowly sliding the storage boxes in front of you so you are well hidden. Listening for the creak on the third stair that Marcus groans about having repaired.

Marcus has you on the phone, having switched lines for a mere moment

to get a team to his house within the next ten minutes. He speeds along the roads of D.C to his home, running through reds with no care except that it’s clear. “I’m coming baby.” He promises, “I’m coming.”

You can’t acknowledge him, too terrified to make a sound as you hear someone creep up the stairs. Your blood runs cold when you hear a voice say your name. “I’ve been looking for you. Come out and I’ll kill you quickly.” He taunts. “Make me find you….well, I’ve been in prison a loooooooong time because of you.”

Marcus drives faster, pulling into his neighborhood and he hears your scream. Slamming his brake, he puts the car in park, uncaring of his engine still running as he grabs his gun and rushes through the front door. He freezes when he comes across Roberta, his gun pressed against your forehead.

He had found you, screaming and fighting, he had dragged you out from under the bed with a curse and hopefully a bruised shin. Until he had pressed his gun against your forehead and ordered you downstairs. Feeling like you were going to die. Until the door opens and Marcus busts in. “Marc!”

Marcus’s finger is over the trigger. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Pike. I’ll blow her pretty head off. I want you to know that I’ve been watching. Listening. All those little promises of the future. Having kids. Getting married. It’s so sweet it’s sickening.” He coos sarcastically. “And now that future is gone.” He says and Marcus shakes his head, “you’ve served your time. You could walk away. Leave her alone.” He counters and Roberta growls, “no! She is the reason I served so long. She’s gonna die.” He promises, pushing the barrel into your head.

You squeeze your eyes shut and then you have to open them. Needing to see Marcus one last time. The idea that this man has been stalking the house, listening to your conversations and plans for the future, listening to you making love, is sickening. “I love you Marcus.” You promise him, watching his eyes slide from Roberta to you. “It’s always been you. Always.”

Marcus feels like he’s gonna be sick. “She hasn’t done anything. She’s been alone for so long. She has suffered enough. You both have.” He lies, “let her go and you won’t be arrested. You can walk free. Start again. I won’t come after you. Just let her go and you are a free man.”

You feel the tension rising in the room. Something is about to happen. Something that will end in the death of one of you. “If it weren’t for her, this bitch, I wouldn’t have gone to jail!” Roberta hisses and you know he won’t walk away. He won’t quit until you are dead. You remember one self defense move that had been taught to you by the Marshal’s office. Playing dead. “I’m sorry.” You tell him, watching his eyes slide from Marcus to you and you let your knees give out and drop to the ground.

Roberta isn’t quick enough and the gun goes off, embedding the bullet in the wall. The next thing you know, Marcus’s team are storming the house and they don’t waste time killing Roberta. His head jerks back as the bullet enters his head. The gun falls to the floor and Marcus is quick to grab it. Marcus pulls out the magazine and empties the chamber, the bullet rattling to the floor. The bullet that could’ve killed you. He reaches for you once Roberta is dead on the floor and he pulls you into his arms. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

You’re shaking. Once the guns started firing, you flinched in anticipation of the killing shot and now you can’t stop shaking. “I- I- I don’t- I don’t know.” You admit truthfully, throwing your arms around him and starting to sob as the reality of what could have happened hits you.

His hands check you over, rubbing your body to see if you’re hurt and when he doesn’t see any damage, he’s pulling you back into his arms, kissing your forehead. The team wants you out, into the van and away so they can check Marcus’s home. “We are going to a safe house for a couple of nights. The team will check the house for any bugs or anything I didn’t pick up on. And clean it up for us.” Marcus explains once you are on the way.

“I didn’t go out.” You stress, almost desperate for him to believe you. “I didn’t call anyone and tell them where I was. No one.” You cling to him, unable to let him go as you try to calm yourself down. “I promise, I didn’t.”

Marcus shakes his head, “it’s not your fault baby. These people…they have ways of finding out where you are. It’s not your fault.” He promises, “he found you and now he’s dead. It’s over. You can reinstate your identity.” He tells you, “you can be you again.”

“I can be me.” You whisper softly, eyes wide when you realize that it’s truly over. After fifteen years, you are finally free. “Oh my God.” Happy tears fall down your cheek and you start to giggle.

Marcus grins, relieved for you and happy after knowing everything you’ve been through. “I love you so much.” He murmurs, caressing your cheeks, “you can see your parents. You can - you’re free.”

“Marry me.” You beg quietly. “As soon as I am legally myself, I want to be Mrs. Marcus Pike.”

Marcus’s eyes widen and he nods, “yes. Yes. God - baby - as soon as we are able to, I wanna marry you.” He promises, leaning in to kiss you softly, his thumbs wiping away your tears.

You smile, unable to believe that your life has taken such an incredible turn. Your future had been changed by a madman, forced into hiding and completely altering your path. Somehow brought back to Marcus by complete coincidence and now, you are able to take your life back and spend it with Marcus.

****

“I now pronounce you, husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.” The officiant declares and Marcus surges forward to kiss your lips, his hands tenderly cupping your cheeks. The crowd cheers, made up of your parents, his parents, and the friends you have made together since Roberta was killed and the ones from college who were shocked to see you after you made your official appearance back in the world. It’s been a long journey, fifteen years in the making, but you and Marcus are finally where you were meant to be all along. Married and in love. Next thing on the agenda? Getting you pregnant.

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

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wildemaven · 6 months

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Settling into DC with Marcus

#marcus pike #marcus pike imagine #pedro pascal #wildemaven moodboard #wildemaven moodboard Marcus p

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creedslove · 6 months

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RE-ENCOUNTER 🎨

Marcus Pike x f!reader

"I'd rather get divorced while still loving you, than remaining together and risking to hate you"

Summary: you and Marcus had a brief but loving marriage, until it wasn't anymore. Choosing an amicable divorce you both moved on with your lives until destiny made you run into each other once more, with a difference this time: your ex-husband was engaged now

Warnings: mentions of divorce, a little bit of angst, fluff, some jealousy, age gap (their ages are not specified but he's 10 years older than her)

A/N: besties, I'm so happy I finally managed to write something for our husband Pike. I've always wanted to do so, but I knew I couldn't just force myself into it otherwise it wouldn't work properly, and just like that, this idea came up and I couldn't get it out of my mind ❤️ also, I know some people don't like age gap, but I can't imagine reader being Marcus age mostly because reader is me 🥴 and also because it would make sense to the story, so although it's not specified, I pictured them getting married around early 20s(reader) early 30s (Pike) and running into each other again around late 20s/early 30s (reader) and late 30s/early 40s (Pike)

3.9k words

You weren't fond of getting married young, to you, it sounded nothing like madness, as you simply couldn't wrap your head around the fact that people often abdicated from their lives, plans and dreams to get stuck in a relationship. It made no sense to you, especially since you had been working your ass off during all your years in college, the prospect of having a successful and promising career motivated you to go after your dreams. Relationships, marriages, building up families hadn't crossed your mind at all, a little affair with a cute guy here and there were the only things that ever got remotely close to dating, at the same time you only saw yourself as someone who wouldn't settle down.

And that was before Marcus Pike walked into your life.

If someone asked you to explain what exactly happened, perhaps you wouldn't be able to understand it yourself let alone explain it to someone, but that man swept you off your feet. You'd met him during a history of art lecture at campus one Thursday evening. He had just joined the FBI in the art department, fresh in his new job but still assisting his former professor and mentor in college lectures. He was probably ten or so years older than you, and yet, you couldn't keep your eyes off him. He was by far the most handsome man you'd seen in those four long years you'd spent in that institution, there was something so captivating in his beautiful eyes, his breathtaking smile and how smart and sweet he was towards anyone. And he caught you staring; it seemed you took his attention as much as he took yours, and even if you needed that lecture for extra credit, you couldn't give a single crap about medieval art, because that man was everything you could see in front of you. That was so unlike your personality, usually, you'd be focused on everything else, but you simply couldn't look away from that handsome assistant.

When the lecture was finally over, you were sure you'd missed at least half of it, being too busy concentrating on someone else instead of the subject, you still had a few doubts about the matter and you walked to the stage, willing to ask the professor some questions and clarify any doubts you had, and that was the moment you both locked eyes for the first time. The handsome guy that caught your attention, whose name was Marcus, soon found out the moment you shook hands and realized how big his was compared to yours and how truly handsome he was, even more so than you had already noticed when you were a few meters away. He was also mesmerized by you and he couldn't hide it, he knew you were younger than him, but at that moment all he could process was how gorgeous and smart that girl was in front of him. He kept around while you talked to his mentor, being polite enough not to interrupt him but holding himself back so he wouldn't add his own comments. He just wanted an excuse to talk to you, see if he could approach and see where things could go, so the moment he had the opportunity to be with you alone for a while, he immediately threw his charms - and Marcus was a charming guy - in your first conversation you liked how intelligent and nice he was, he made you laugh and when he invited you to have pancakes some dinner nearby the campus, you couldn't say no.

And that was the beginning of your love story.

Everything you believed went through the roof from the moment you met Marcus. He was incredible, the most fascinating man you'd met and whereas he was older than you, that only seemed to spice things up both in the sexual and emotional sense. You had never been treated like that before, he made you feel like a queen, as cheesy as it may sound, that's just how you felt through your relationship with Marcus. He was a gentleman, sweet and he didn't know what to do in order to please you; he went slowly at first, even if his intentions were clear from the very first time you went out to eat, he was a little afraid you would be weirded out by him, and he couldn't be further from the truth. Each time he took you out on a date, it felt like you were living the plot of any sweet but cliche rom com movie. It felt just too good to be true and a part of you feared that it wouldn't work. But it did, for as long as it lasted.

The dates with Marcus were so special, he was thoughtful and he always made sure to take you somewhere nice; it was either a nice restaurant so you could get to know their different menu, or art galleries in which he would show you his favorite works and tell you as much as you wanted to hear about them. He was always afraid of boring you with his subjects but on the contrary, you always enjoyed listening to him talk, it was entertaining, soothing and you could spend hours watching how his eyes sparkled whenever he addressed anything he truly enjoyed. And even if he put some effort into them, your favorite date by far was whenever you two would spend some time just hanging out together in his apartment. Dim lights, old movies on TV and Marcus' protective grip around your body, always pulling you closer and making sure you were warm in his embrace for the rest of the night.

The first kiss you shared with him after you both went to the movies together. It was a classic movie rerun and even if Casablanca wasn't your favorite, you knew he enjoyed it, and seeing it on a big screen was definitely a nice experience. Besides, he promised you that once Titanic hit the theaters in the next classic session, he would definitely take you.

At the end of the movie, you walked out the theater holding hands, you were silent, but instead of reflecting over the story you'd just watched you reflected over your relationship with Marcus; you were falling deeper and deeper for him, deeper and more intensely than you ever thought you would, and when he stopped and placed your hands on your hips you couldn't resist being kissed by him.

It felt right.

The first night you both spent together was right after he took you to see the concert of his former band; he'd left the band when he graduated from college, but he still remained friends with the guys and eventually enjoyed visiting them on stage. And that night he insisted on taking his bass for a last ride and even risked a song on the microphone, all of that for you.

By then, there was no fighting or convincing otherwise, you were head over heels for Marcus; especially when you two had sex for the first time after that. One could think Marcus is too soft, but not when it comes to that; he knows how to act, how to please and how to demand what he wants and after you tried him, a real man, there was no way you could go back to college boys ever again.

Your relationship evolved fast and in less than a year he proposed to you; he was sure you were what he wanted in the future, just as you had thrown away all your beliefs and you'd surrounded yourself completely to the man you loved, so you said yes. Even if your whole life you said you wouldn't get married, not while young at least, not without having a consistent, successful career.

And there you were, fresh out of college, with very little work experience, a job in an area you didn't want but had to take in order to gather experience and knowledge and walking down the aisle in a white dress, feeling as happy as you could be, in order to become Mrs.Pike. The honeymoon had to be in Paris, a few people told you that couldn't be more cliche, and even if they meant it out of spite or if they were actually right, it didn't really matter to you; it felt so right for the two of you. Surrounded by art constantly during the day and making love at night, it was like a dream coming true, and you remember hoping your entire marriage would be like that: light, fun, full of love and happiness. And it was until it wasn't anymore.

You couldn't tell exactly when things started to go downhill, but if you had to guess, it would probably be due to the lack of time you both faced towards the end of your relationship. It just started getting harder after about a year, when the two of you really began struggling for your own careers. You, in your area, and Marcus with the FBI, it seemed to have become an obsession for you both, as date nights, walks in the park and gallery visitations simply stopped happening in order to focus on your extra tasks, overtime, solving cases. At some point it became a looping of excuses and promises to spend more time together:

"We'll go next weekend honey"

"We can have dinner together tomorrow"

"I promise I'll take you with me next time"

Needless to say, they never truly happened.

Just as you two distanced yourselves without even realizing, the bickering also started, adding another venomous sting to your relationship. Suddenly, small things turned into bigger ones, sources of stress and fights; if someone ever told you one day you'd have heated arguments with Marcus over a dropped sock, or an unwashed plate on the sink, you would call them crazy, but when that unfortunately happened to the two of you, you were shocked for a while, not believing you had become the kind of couple to argue over stupid things like those. It was heartbreaking. As you two barely had time for each other, sex was also off the table most nights, being too tired to do anything else other than sleep, Marcus suddenly came up with the idea of having a baby; he had a deep hope of fixing your marriage by getting you pregnant, after all, having kids had always been part of his plan and he was sure it was part of yours too.

At the same time you hadn't really thought it through. Technically, you had. You wanted kids. At some point, in the future, it wasn't rocket science to figure that adding a baby to a troubled marriage could not be the best idea. And yet, you couldn't bring yourself to tell him that, not when you saw the spike of excitement in his eyes, not when he held you and kissed you like in the beginning of your relationship, how he made time for you even if his FBI work was killing him, he still managed to bring you flowers, kiss you and made love to you. Perhaps he was trying to save your marriage, or he was just trying for the baby, you weren't so sure, but you could see the effort. And it was why it broke your heart to know you couldn't get pregnant at that moment, not with your job finally taking you places, the new opportunity of actually building a career and how young you still thought you were, being married was hard, but it was about you and Marcus, two adults who could handle yourselves but a baby? It was way too much responsibility. You couldn't find a way to tell him that, even if you were being a coward, it pained you you felt so hopeless to simply lie to Marcus and tell him you'd stopped taking your birth control pills, and even more so each time he looked at you with those disappointed, sad eyes, month after month of excitement and longing for that baby to be there, just to get a negative test after another. It was eating you up alive and after his insistence on taking you to a doctor - which you immediately refused - he managed to find your hidden stash of pills among your stuff. You tried explaining everything to him; how you weren't ready, you were scared and how broken you'd been at seeing him so upset. You cried, you opened your heart to Marcus and told him you wanted to be a mom to his child, some day, not at that moment, but in the future because things were finally working for the two of you once more. But you had lied to your husband, and lying to Marcus had no turning back.

He had no other option other than asking for a divorce after you lied and broke his heart, he felt upset, he could've forgiven you for many things, but not for playing with his heart when it came to the kids he dreamed of every single day.

You were tired, upset and at some point during your divorce process you'd convinced yourself you didn't love him anymore, but the reality was that you were just so empty you weren't able to feel things, you were numb.

The day you both signed the divorce papers in front of your lawyer and you were questioned whether you two wanted to go ahead with that decision, your heart shattered into a million pieces, more than any fights, when you heard Marcus' justification to why he was asking for the divorce.

"I'd rather get divorced while still loving you, than remaining together and risking to hate you"

When you heard those words, you had a sudden urge to get up and tear those papers into pieces, tell him you were both making a huge mistake, that toyover him and that you could make it work, you wanted to tell him you still had a beautiful future ahead of you, you and the gorgeous family you would have together. And the moment you took a deep breath to finally say all that out loud, you looked at Marcus signing the papers and officializing the divorce.

That was the last time you saw your ex-husband Marcus Pike, you just had no idea the next time you would run into him again would be in a few years later, while he was taking his new fiancee on a date.

•••

Marcus sighed as he could see the lack of excitement in Teresa's face the moment they got to the exhibit, he just didn't know why she agreed to go out with him if she didn't like it, it would be so much easier for the two of them if she was honest and told him she'd rather stay home and read a magazine, that way they would both be happy, and Marcus wouldn't have the feeling he was trying too hard all the time. Teresa liked him, she must have liked him, otherwise she wouldn't have accepted his proposal and moved to DC with him. It was still early, she'd been there for a few weeks but he was confident things would work. He was hitting his forties now, one divorce, no kids and even if he finally got the position he had not only dreamed of but also worked so hard for in his dream job, he still felt something was missing. It took him a failed marriage to realize that money wasn't everything he needed, he simply missed the family he never had.

When he found Teresa he was still trying to pick the pieces of his heart, still trying to make things work on his own and when he saw her - an attractive, mature and intelligent woman, he thought that maybe he wouldn't be alone this time. You'd been the love of his life, he was convinced of that, but you two had gone way too fast and too intense, you were still young, you had so much to live so it made sense to him he would let you go and be free. He vowed himself not to rush into things, but this time it wasn't his choice, he was liking Teresa more and more and even if they weren't compatible most of the time, but when the opportunity of a lifetime came up he had to take his chances and she'd said yes. Still a little unsure and divided between him and Jane, but she said yes.

As they walked through the exhibit, he paid close attention to all the beautiful paintings scattered around the long hallways. He loved that atmosphere, the pictures so beautifully made by talented hands years or sometimes centuries ago.

"So it's just flowers?!" Teresa broke the silence as she looked around unimpressed and dragged his attention back to reality

"It's not just flowers, it's Monet… don't you like it? You told me you liked his paintings on our first date.." Marcus stated confused until the realization that she was just lying so she wouldn't appear ignorant or perhaps try to impress him a little. He saw how she cleared her throat and tried fixing what she just said but he stopped listening the moment he caught a glimpse of someone else crossing the same room and standing next to Rouen Cathedral, admiring it intently. He didn't even need to look twice to know it was you. You, who always loved that painting, even if it wasn't Monet's best in your ex-husband's opinion, you who had a fascination with old constructions such as cathedrals and would always snap several pictures of them, you, who was never exceptional at art but managed to get by and eventually fell more and more in love with art because of Marcus, not because you wanted to impress him or have him thinking you were smart, but because he actually made you see why he had that passion for it. And the moment that you turned around, his heart skipped a beat.

You looked the same, and yet, you also managed to look even more beautiful; more mature, more confident in yourself and for a brief moment Marcus was frozen in time, it was just like the first time he saw you, in which he could only see you in front of him and nothing else. He had no idea you still had that effect on him, it was so unusual and surprising and even if he had stalked your social media profiles here and there over the course of your separation, even if he wasn't proud of it, it was completely different than seeing you right there in front of him. He wasn't sure what to do, should he approach you? Talk to you? Pretend he didn't see you?

However, he didn't time to think any further about it, not when you turned around and spotted him, your eyes widening at the moment you saw him. Much to your surprise your heart also raced at the sight of your ex-husband. Was it your mind playing tricks or was he even more handsome? You hadn't planned on approaching him, but you felt as if you were being taken involuntarily towards him.

"Marcus?! Hi!" You said with a sweet smile as he politely greeted you, expressing how surprised he was to see you and even more so to actually talk to you

"Wow, you look great… So beautiful" he smiled as you blushed softly and giggled

"You too, still very handsome… so what brings you to D-" you interrupted by a woman who walked in and wrapped her arm around his waist. She eyed you up and down, even if she still tried to be polite and discreet about it. You swallowed hard feeling awkward and Marcus turned to the other woman

"This is Teresa, my fiancee and this is my ex-wife" he cleared his throat as he said your name and Teresa simply nodded her head. You returned the gesture and the moment you meant to ask him a question she barged in

"You're his ex-wife? But you're so young…" you could see the light pink spreading through his cheek and groaned at how dumb she really was.

"Yeah, I'm younger than him… and are you a little older than Marcus?" You returned the sting with the same amount of poison and she scoffed, looking at him and groaned

"I'll go to the restroom" she said without looking into your eyes and walked away, making you chuckle as Marcus shot you a questioning look which you just shrugged and went back to the question that was lingering on your mind

"So, what are you doing here in DC? Having a romantic getaway or vacations?"

"Actually, I've moved here after I was promoted to the head of the new art department" he said with his typical smile and you could see how his eyes crinkled, your heart warming up as you expressed genuine surprise and happiness to know that. You were a witness to how hard he had worked for that and it just filled your heart with pride to know he made it. You weren't sure how to act, perhaps it wasn't right, but you had already wrapped your arms around his neck and given him probably the tightest hug you'd ever done. Even if it was brief, you couldn't help but feel how built up he was, how stronger he'd become and his characteristic scent made you so warm on the inside, it felt like you could've stayed forever in his embrace.

"I'm so happy for you, Marcus! Honestly, you deserve it! I know I haven't been the most supportive wife and I'm very sorry about everything that happened, I should've been nicer to you, but well, all I'm trying to say is that I'm so proud of you!"

You said wholeheartedly and even if there were so many other things you needed to tell him, you knew it wasn't the right time and place. He just smiled and nodded, taking your hands into his big ones and thanking you for the support.

"Do you think we could grab a coffee or something? Just catch up?"

"I'd love to, but I don't know if it's a good idea, I mean, I can tell Teresa isn't my biggest fan and being honest with you, I wouldn't like my fiance's ex-wife around very much, but it's amazing to see you Marcus, truly, it makes me glad to know you are somewhat closer" you smiled again but let go of his hands the moment Teresa returned. Once more she just lingered around him, almost territorial as if she wanted to show you who owned Marcus. He also felt that, and it made him quite uncomfortable, so he cleared his throat and looked at you, saying goodbye and explaining they had dinner reservations.

As you watched them both leave, you felt a pang in your chest, thinking of the wonderful place he was probably taking her, the elaborate dates he had planned, the beautiful family they would probably build together. It could've been you, it was you for a while, unlike he might have thought you wanted all that with him, but it took you a divorce to realize it was a situation of the right person, wrong time. Perhaps if you tried again, it would work, you would like it to work, but Marcus had moved on, found himself someone he cared about and you had no right to break his heart and ruin his happiness once more.

____

A/N: my besties, I really hope you enjoyed it! I don't know if this is just a one-shot or if there'll be a continuation but I am so happy how this turned out. I love Marcus and I'm so happy our handsome FBI boyfriend finally got his own piece here! ❤️ remember that feedback is life, I'd love to hear what you all thought of it ❤️

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal one shot #pedro pascal imagine #marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x y/n #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike fanfic #marcus pike imagine #marcus pike one shot

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atinylittlepain · 5 months

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Marcus Pike x f!reader

(there is no masterlist for this man, good luck to this man)

He's looking for something other than vanilla, and she is more than happy to provide such a service to him.

warnings | 18+ this is smut, pegging, rimming, sucking and fucking, sex work, lowkey sugardaddy!marcus, sweet shy marcus getting his world rocked, and then pancakes and a blackberry and a black american express card so ya know, the works.

a/n | this was written LAST MAY woof - i think originally it was supposed to be for the first round of the PMAMC (also woof) but she's here now :') special thanks to @wannab-urs for resurrecting this fucker. there is a part two... just sayin

..............................

The first thing she notices about him is that he’s nervous. He keeps loosening and tightening his tie, eyes glancing around in quick, anxious sweeps. He’s definitely never been here before, she would’ve remembered a face that handsome, strong jaw under a little scruff and big brown eyes that set a smile tugging at her lips when he finally meets her gaze.

“Hey there, handsome, welcome in. First time?” His eyes drop down to the floor, a clipped laugh coming out as she steps closer to him.

“Am I that obvious?” He rolls his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes crinkled in a shy smile that sets warmth spreading in her chest, bringing a delicate palm to his shoulder.

“Just never seen you around before, that’s all. What brings you to Pandora’s tonight?”

“Well, I, uh– I wanted to– um–” He cuts his own rambling off, jaw slack as he watches a man in head to toe latex walk by, being led on a leash by one of her coworkers.

“Hey, don’t worry about them. I wanna know what you want. Would you feel more comfortable talking some more in one of our private rooms?” Eyelashes fluttering, spine arched, she knows exactly how to reel them in, noting the dip and bob of his throat as he nods.

“I– yeah, um, yes please.” Manners, she likes that. She slips her hand down his arm, taking his hand before turning heel and tugging him down the dark hallway, taking them into one of the vacant playrooms. It’s one of the tamer rooms, a four poster bed in the middle, red silk sheets, and a dark chest of drawers off to the side full of all sorts of fun. She guides him to sit down on the end of the bed beside her, his hands immediately going to his thighs in a nervous squeeze. His eyes are still darting everywhere, but mostly to the tops of her breasts, pressed up in the strappy leather corset she has on, though he doesn’t let his gaze linger there long before jerking his eyes back up to her face.

“You don’t have to be nervous, baby. I just want to hear a little about why you came in, and how you’d like to be taken care of tonight, alright?” He nods, clearing his throat a few times before replying.

“I just– you gotta know that I’ve never done anything like this before, really. But, I don’t know, I guess I wanted to try something different? My, well my ex-wife, I think she thought I was too, um, vanilla. So I guess I want to– not be– um, vanilla anymore. And, Jesus Christ, you probably think I’m crazy, huh?” Somehow, he manages to still be handsome and look like a kicked puppy at the same time, and she has to resist the urge to push his flop of hair back and press a kiss to the crease between his brows.

“Not crazy at all. So when you say not vanilla, what does that mean to you?” When he gives her no answer, eyes only widening as he seems to wrack his brain for what to say, she laughs lightly, bringing a palm to his thigh and giving him a reassuring squeeze.

“Why don’t we start with the basics? Do you see yourself being more of a dom or a sub?”

“I– what does that mean, dom and sub?” Oh boy, more basic than the basics then.

“Dom is shorthand for dominant, that’s the person in control in the relationship, and they’re usually the one inflicting any pain, if you’re into that. And sub means submissive, that’s the person who follows the dom’s commands, who gets taken care of.”

“Oh, right, that makes sense. I mean, I don’t think I’d be very good at being in control like that, so I guess, more submissive?” I’ll say. She offers him a nod and smile, still trying to coax some of his anxiety out of him.

“Sounds good, handsome. If it’s alright with you, I can be your partner for the night. Let’s get some paperwork for you and then we can get started, ok?” He only nods, something she’s going to have to work on with him.

“For this to work, I’m gonna need you to always use your words with me, alright? That way I know exactly what you do and don’t like.” She says it to him over her shoulder as she rifles through the chest of drawers, getting out a waiver and a pen for him.

“Uh, yes, ok, I can– I can do that.” She sits back down beside him with a hum, passing him the paperwork, watching his brow furrow as he reads over it.

“That’s a list of kinks we do and don’t participate in. Are there any that you’re particularly interested in exploring tonight?” Another clear of his throat, keeping his eyes glued to the paper when he responds.

“Do men– do men really like that? I mean, I’ve heard of it, but, does it feel good?” She looks over his shoulder to where his finger is pointing, her lips crooking into a smile when she sees what’s caught his attention.

“Mmhmm, it can be very pleasurable, with an experienced partner, of course.”

“And you– are you, um, experienced?” Her smile broadens into a grin at his question, resting her hand on his shoulder.

“Oh baby, I’m very experienced. Is that something you’d like to try out tonight?” He seems to consider it, his eyes darting from her lips back up to her gaze a few times before he finally nods.

“Fuck it, yeah, I wanna do that. But is it ok if that’s the only thing we do on this list? I don’t think I’m really into the whole– chains and whips thing.” She laughs at that, giving his shoulder a squeeze as she nods.

“Whatever you want. Just need you to sign that waiver which basically affirms that we’re all clean here at Pandora’s, and you are too. You’re familiar with our pricing, right? It’s three hundred for an hour, and five for two.”

“Is it ok if I do two?”

“You’re the customer, honey. What you say goes.” With a decisive nod, he ticks the box next to two hours on the form, signing his name on the dotted line before handing her back the pen and paper.

“Nice to officially meet you, Marcus. You can call me Daisy, and I’ll be taking care of you tonight.” As she sets the paperwork down on the chest of drawers, he lets out a light laugh, drawing her attention over her shoulder.

“That’s not your real name, is it?” Stepping out of her heels, she pads back over to him, standing right between his legs, setting down the items she grabbed before guiding his hands onto her hips.

“It’s not, is there something else you’d like to call me for the night?” He takes a sharp inhale as she drags his hands from her hips, up and up until his palms are cupping her breasts through her corset.

“I, um– Daisy’s good, yeah.” Letting her hands fall away from his, his eyes search hers, obvious in looking for permission that she’s happy to give.

“You can touch me, Marcus, whatever makes you feel more comfortable.”

“Can I take this off of you?” His fingers are toying with the laced-up front of her corset, which she lightly bats away.

“It’s a little tricky, let me.” She makes deft work of unlacing the garment, a known path for her fingers that usually bores her, though there’s a little kick of something else, him watching her and the fine flicker of her hands. Marcus lets out a laugh at the grin she offers him, fizzling in his throat when she lets the corset fall away to reveal herself to him, standing before him in only her barely-there shorts. The heat of his hands just hovers over the swell of her breasts, and she can’t help the sigh that thrums in her throat when he finally lets his palms press against her skin. It’s not often that a client affects her like this, and she has to clear her throat to refocus on the real task at hand.

“Why don’t we get you out of your clothes? Sit back for me.” She’s undone dozens of ties, worked her fingers through miles of shirt buttons, and doesn’t even have to look to get trousers unfastened now, but she can’t shake the prickle running up her spine at the way his eyes follow every movement, and she can’t hide the shudder that runs through her when he tentatively tucks her hair behind her ear as she works his pants down his hips.

“Have you been doing this for long?” She shoots him a look from her spot between his legs, his pants discarded to leave him in just his briefs.

“Are you really trying to make small talk?” Oh, he’s blushing now. She likes that, crawling closer and dipping her head down to press a kiss to the center of his chest before dragging her lips up and up, catching at the bob in his throat before letting her mouth just hover over his, feeling the shaky pants of his breath.

“There’s no need for that, Marcus. I’m gonna take care of you now, and I need you to tell me what you like, and what you don’t, do you understand?” His voice comes out a little hoarse, and she can feel the thrum of it where her chest is brushing against his.

“Yes, I understand.” A grin is all she gives him, ducking down before his lips can meet hers as she lets her mouth drag a trail down his torso until she’s nipping at the waistband of his briefs.

“Can I take these off?” When all he does is nod, she gives his hip a light pinch, something between a laugh and a grunt jumping from his chest at the sensation.

“Yeah, you can take them off, I– sorry.” She smoothes her palm over the spot she pinched, smiling up at him.

“That’s ok, baby. Just remember your words for me.” He can’t be real, that’s all she can figure when she gets him totally bare before her, his cock a perfect pink that matches the flush on his chest, thick enough to set her jaw aching in anticipation, and long, pre-come smearing in the tuft of hair over his pelvis. She can’t help but wonder why the fuck anyone would ever want to leave him when he’s this pretty to look at.

“Can I touch you? Get you warmed up for me?” He’s propped up on his elbows to watch her kneeling between his legs, lips swollen from how much he’s been biting them, slightly parted in something like wonder.

“Yeah, yes, please.”

“Hmm, I like a boy with some manners. Just relax, Marcus, and remember, I’m here to take care of you.” With that, she presses a kiss just below his belly button, smiling against the twitch of his muscles before dipping down and letting her lips ghost over the underside of his cock. It’s involuntary, the hum she lets out when she takes him fully into the heat of her mouth, relaxing her throat like she’s learned to do, a necessary move in order to take all of him. And he’s perfect beneath her, thighs flexing under her splayed palms, low moans rumbling in his chest as she alternates between swallowing him down and lapping at his leaking tip. She knows she’s done her job, that she’s loosened him up, when those moans start to get a little louder, a little more drawn out, and he slumps down off his elbows to run a hand through his hair, eyes scrunched shut. A kiss over one hip, then the other, keeping her palm steady on his heaving belly while she reaches for the lube, his eyes squinting open to see why she stopped.

“You ever used lube before?”

“No, never needed to, I guess.”

“Well it’s gonna be your best friend tonight. I’m gonna warm a little up in my palms and then I’ll let you get used to the feel of it, ok?” He hums out an mmhmm, watching her hands rub in quick circles, his eyes following the subtle shake of her breasts with the movement. And when she gets her hands on him again, slicking her palm up his cock, a hiss slips through his lips.

“Sorry, is it still cold?”

“No, fuck– just feels really good.” She grins at that, letting her wrist flick, hand in an easy glide as she slips her palm down to cup the weight of his balls, his groan cracking and shooting up an octave, hips jolting at the sensation.

“Has no one touched you like this before, baby?”

“I– Jesus, no– no one’s done that before.”

“Well that’s just not right. Feels good, huh?” A little squeeze to punctuate her question sets another moan loose in his chest as he presses his head back into the sheets.

“Y-yes, feels really good.” She nudges his thighs open a bit more, letting her hand slip down lower, not pressing, but circling, gauging how he reacts as she keeps her other hand easily stroking his cock.

“Remember, need you to tell me what feels good and what doesn’t. We can stop at any time. Do you like what I’m doing right now?” His eyes are still shut tight, one hand fisted in his hair, the other tangled in the sheets, pleasure pulling his whole body taut.

“Yeah, I like it. It’s, hah– it’s different, good, different good.” His words go a bit slurred when she presses her finger forward, opening him up as he lets out another breathy moan.

He takes it well, whimpers and moans crackling in his throat as she starts a steady thrust, only pausing to work a little more lube over her hand.

“Doing so good for me, Marcus. You wanna try taking a little more?” He sits up on his elbows, surprising her a bit with his firm reply.

“I want more, want you to use that on me, please.” He tilts his head over to the strap laying on the end of the bed, once again catching her off guard.

“You sure you’re ready for that?” He tilts his head at her, a crooked smile on his face.

“Didn’t you say something about the customer always being right?” She lets out a real laugh at that, shaking her head at him as he just grins, clearly pleased with himself.

“I guess so. Alright, handsome, why don’t you get on your hands and knees for me? We’ll take it nice and slow.” He seems a bit taken aback by that request, his smile going a little slack as she gets off the bed to step into her harness, though he catches himself, clearing his throat and shifting around on the bed into the position she asked for.

She can’t help herself, getting back on the bed and kneeling behind him, laying a quick pat to his very cute ass that has him craning his neck over his shoulder to look at her.

“Sorry, just looks so good I had to give it a little tap. You ready for me?” He hums his assent as she slicks her fake cock in lube, bringing one palm over his low back in a reassuring circle as she scoots in closer.

“Just relax, Marcus, this is about you feeling good. That’s it, open up for me.” She works her strap in slow, curling over him to press her lips in a murmuring of praise into his shoulder blades as he whimpers beneath her, his hands fisted tight in the sheets.

“How’re you feeling, baby? Is it too much? We can go back to what we–”

“No, no. I just– just need a minute, fuck– didn’t think it’d feel this good.” She’s not being professional about this, she knows it too, but she doesn’t care. A professional would be checking the clock, making sure that he gets his before his time is up. A professional wouldn’t be laying kisses over his shoulders, whispering to him that he’s doing so good, that he can take it, that he’s so pretty like this. But nothing about the way she wants him right now feels professional, the way she wants to take care of him, to make him feel good, to keep him feeling good for as long as she can.

“Just say the word. I move when you want me to.”

Slow and smooth, nothing but patience and permission in how she fucks him, her hips slotting with his again and again and again, simmering down into a close press, her chest draped over his back and her hand working his cock in time with her thrusts when he finally unravels beneath her. He slumps down onto his forearms, a slur of curses punching out of his lungs as she runs her palms up and down his shuddering back. But what he does next is so unexpected she finds herself at the mercy of his movements. The moment she pulls her hips away from his, he turns over underneath her, still catching his breath as his hands find her hips, insistent and harsh in the way he pulls her down onto the bed. He’s certainly a sight, cheeks flushed and hair perfectly mussed up in every direction, his eyes blown dark and wide as he hovers over her.

“Can I take care of you now? Is that allowed?” A professional would say no, that his time is up, get him a towel and a glass of water and process his credit card.

She doesn’t say no.

He fumbles a bit with the straps of the harness, letting out an impatient groan that makes her giggle, quick to bat his hands away and make easy work of shimmying the whole thing down her legs. And the smile he gives her as she does is downright sheepish.

“That’s, uh, a bit tricky.” She brushes his hair back out of his face, thumb settling against the dimple in his cheek, a move that’s entirely too sweet and she knows it.

“Just a little. I’m all yours now though.” He doesn’t waste any time, ducking his head down to press a sweet kiss over the top of her breast that turns salacious when he slides his tongue down over the tight peak of her nipple, her back arching up into the heat of his mouth as he lets his teeth graze over the sensitive skin. His hands are splayed around her hips, greedy and insistent in the way his fingers curl and press into her ass, lifting her hips up to slide her tiny shorts off her legs before he settles back between her thighs, his nose brushing against her twitching stomach, dark eyes flickered up to meet hers.

“Is this ok? Can I taste you? Make you feel good like that?” He steals a move from her book when all she does is nod, his hand that’s still curled around her hip laying a gentle pinch to the swell, his grin going boyish as she huffs out a laugh.

“Can I have your words, Daisy, please?” She tilts her head at his shy question, enjoying the flushed flare creeping up his cheeks.

“Hmm, you’re a fast learner, huh? Yeah, baby, I want your mouth, Want you to make me feel good.”

It’s not that she had been expecting him to be bad at it. But she also hadn’t been expecting him to be so fucking good either. Head thrown back, thighs trembling around his scruff, moaning his name good. He’s not precious about it, licking a flat stripe through her cunt before letting his tongue catch on her clit in a harsh press, dipping back down to lap up the slick pooling at her entrance, a continuous circuit of pleasure that has every muscle in her body tensing up. He groans low in his chest when she rakes her fingers through his hair, tugging just a bit unkindly when his teeth graze her clit. One large palm snakes up to grasp at the swell of one of her breasts, his other hand pressed across her pelvis to keep her spasming hips still as he fucks her with his tongue, the strong hook of his nose dragging across her clit with each pass. And it hits her all at once, that snare of pleasure snapping hot and hard as she comes with a stilted moan of his name, her heel pressing between his shoulder blades, keeping him exactly where he is, and he continues to work her over as she comes undone on his mouth.

She tugs at his hair again when it becomes too much, her hips jolting at the thrumming chuckle he lets out when he finally pulls away, resting his cheek against her hip while she tries to catch her breath. They lay like that for a hiccup of time, just staring at each other, a dazed smile on his glistening lips that she knows is mirrored in her own hazy grin. Eventually she lets out a long sigh, reaching out for him and thumbing away some of her arousal that’s smeared across his jaw.

“Do you wanna, like, get a burger or something?”

“Is that– is that a part of my two hours?” “Oh baby, your two hours were up a while ago.”

…

He’s waiting for her right outside the club, and she mentally kicks herself for having worn sweats and a hoodie in for her shift earlier, though he doesn’t seem to mind, smiling big and broad when she steps outside to join him.

“I know you said burgers, but there’s a diner around the corner that does the best pancakes in DC. Sound good to you?” She likes this version of him too, confident, certain, a bit old-fashioned with the way he holds his arm out for her to take like they didn’t just wreck each other a few moments ago, letting her hold onto him the whole walk over to the diner, opening the door for her, the whole chivalric production.

It’s so late at night, they’re virtually the only people in the place, tucking into a cracked vinyl booth and putting in their order, pancakes and scrambled eggs and bacon, the works. And they share every last bite, having both clearly worked up an appetite after their evening together.

Though he’s vague about it, she can suss out for herself that he’s some sort of higher-up government type, she knows them well, and in turn, she answers his questions about her, that her work at Pandora’s is good enough to be supporting her through college, Marcus seeming to perk up when she tells him she’d like to be an art teacher one day. He’s older than her, at least enough to have already been married and divorced, but she can’t find it in herself to care about that, too busy enjoying their easy conversation, the subtle game of footsie they have going on under the table, and the way he smiles at her, all of his attention on her. It’s so strange, so different, so starkly contrasted to the way her nights usually go, not that she minds the simple rotation of disinterested clients, but she hasn’t had someone look at her, really look at her the way Marcus is, in quite a while.

“I have to admit, I wasn’t really expecting my night to end like this.” Plates long cleared, each of them nursing a mug of coffee as the first sweeps of dawn start to light up the streets outside, she smiles at his admission.

“Good surprise or bad surprise?” He grins at her question, leaning in on his elbows like he has the wildest secret to tell her.

“Really good surprise. I mean, I just think you’re– amazing. Fuck, is that weird of me to say?” She mirrors him, leaning in on her elbows, a smile threatening to quirk her lips.

“Hmm, no, it’s cute. For the record, I think you’re kinda amazing too.” Their faces are so close, and she realizes all at once that she hasn’t even kissed him yet.

“Only kinda, huh? Guess I didn’t do my job then.” She can almost feel the curve of his smile as she laughs at his simpering response, the sound getting swallowed when he closes the space between them, pressing his lips to hers. And he’s good at this too, his palm coming to cup her jaw, thumb stroking along her cheek as he deepens the kiss, licking into her mouth and nearly melting her on the spot. Though it’s over too soon for her liking when they get interrupted by someone clearing their throat in front of their table, pulling away to see the rather annoyed looking waitress setting their check down and shuffling away with a sour side-eye. She opens her mouth to protest when Marcus reaches for his wallet, but he waves his hand, black American Express glinting in the diner’s fluorescent lights.

“Don’t worry about it, baby, I’ve got it. It’s the least I can do after going over my two hours.” She can tell he means it as a joke, a flippant remark, but her stomach still sinks at even the suggestion of this still being a business transaction. It’s a sore spot for her, and though she’s more than comfortable with the work she does, her exes hadn’t been, nor had they been kind about it for that matter.

Busy signing the check, Marcus doesn’t notice the way her face falls, and she’s already out of the booth and halfway out the door of the diner when he finally calls out for her, further rubbing salt in the wound when the name he uses is Daisy.

“Woah, woah, hey, what happened in there?” The hand he hooks around her bicep is gentle but insistent, and she can’t help the tears threatening to spill over when he turns her around to look at him in the faint morning light.

“Look, if that’s all this is to you, just business, that’s fine, but I have enough respect for myself to not–” He cuts her off, bringing his broad palm to cup her cheek again, his eyes wide and unwavering.

“Hey, that’s not what this is– I mean, at least not anymore. We did meet under some, ah, particular circumstances. But this isn’t business to me now, if that’s ok with you?” He thumbs away her stray tears, and she nearly goes dizzy with the relief she feels hearing those words from him.

“I’m sorry, baby, it was a stupid thing to say, wasn’t even thinking.” Baby, it’s the second time he’s called her that. She’s never anyone’s baby, they’re always hers, but she likes it now, coming from him, finding herself smiling into his touch.

“I don’t want you to call me Daisy.” His eyes soften, smile tempering as he nods.

“Ok, what should I call you?” She tells him her real name, and with it, the last shred of her professionalism dissolves, and she doesn’t care one bit. He says her name like he’s rolling a hard candy around in his mouth, slow sugar in each syllable before he presses a kiss between her brows, lips trailing down to catch hers in a sweet smack.

“Can I see you again? And, definitively not as, um, as business?” It makes her laugh, how quickly he shifts between confidence and constraint. She likes both.

“I would really really like that, Marcus. Am I giving you my number or are you giving me yours?” His eyebrows shoot up his forehead, like he’s surprised she actually wants that, though he’s quick to catch himself, clearing his throat and smiling.

“Uh, both? Both is good, right?” They swap phones, and she can’t help thinking to herself that of course this man has a Blackberry, stifling a giggle as she types in her number.

“Can I walk you to your car? It’s back at the club, right?”

“Oh, I don’t have a car, actually. Just take the bus to get around.” He doesn’t seem to like that, lips pressing into a thin line as he looks at her.

“How about I get you home this morning? Would that be ok?” Under any other circumstances, she wouldn’t dream of getting into the car of a man she just met, but seeing as she’s already broken a dozen of her cardinal rules with him, she doesn’t think twice about getting into his sleek BMW that’s still parked outside the club. He keeps a palm splayed just above her knee, thumb idly swiping back and forth, a soothing lull as she gives him directions toward her apartment complex. She hates to admit it to herself, but she’s a bit reluctant to get out when he does pull up to her building, leaning over the console for a kiss that he willingly gives her.

“So I’ll call you?” She lays a kiss to the small patch in his scruff, smiling against his skin when he lets out a huff.

“I’ll answer. Thank you, Marcus, for a really nice night, and morning.”

When she gets inside her apartment, she slumps back against the door, blowing out a long exhale and shaking her head.

“Fuck.” Her boss is going to kill her, but she doesn’t really care.

#marcus pike #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike imagine #marcus pike fluff #marcus pike fic #marcus pike angst #marcus pike smut #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x female reader

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pedropascalsx · 7 months

Text

Kinktober - Day Four: Overstimulation.

Marcus Pike x F! Reader.

Summary: You challenge Marcus… and Marcus doesn’t back down from a challenge.

Word Count: 750

A/N: I’m so sorry this is a day late. I was too tired to finish it last night. I’m a little unsure about this one… but i hope you like it 🫣

Prompt from @absurdthirst’s list 💖

Each swirl of his tongue is deliciously devastating, pleasure mixed with pain as your thighs shake harder than ever before, but he shows no signs of letting up.

One of his hands holds you open as he strokes his cock feverishly with the other, he’s lost count how many times you’ve screamed and cursed his name from the amount of orgasms he’s pulled from you tonight.

But he won’t stop, not until that word falls from your lips or he feels that you can’t take anymore.

Your clit still tingles from your last orgasm, and you can feel that telltale sign of another building in your core. With a whimper of his name he doubles down on his efforts, letting go of his cock and sliding two fingers inside of you with ease.

“Marcus,” you moan, and he feels a shiver rip through your body, and you swear you can hear his cocky grin. “Please.”

He begins pumping his fingers slowly, just teasing that spot inside of you, before ramping up the pace. Thrusting them in and out as you curse his name, your body writhing and thrashing around in the most delicious way as the coil inside of you snaps and you clamp down so hard around his fingers that it almost hurts.

“Good girl,” he coos, lips still brushing against your clit, before he pulls out his fingers and spreads your slick down his shaft.

Marcus Pike; gentleman in the streets… absolute freak in the sheets. You had bought this on yourself, when you challenged him, despite knowing one thing about Marcus Pike… he doesn’t back down from a challenge.

He gives himself a few more languid strokes, and you look at the ring firmly wrapped around his cock and balls prolonging your night of pleasure.

“I want to touch you,” you murmur, as you manage to push yourself up on your elbows and reach out and take him in your hand.

“You can,” he says with a smirk, before reaching across the bed and picking up your vibrating wand, “You can stroke my cock while I keep this pressed against that pretty little clit.”

He chuckles at your loud groan, before shrugging his shoulders, “Unless you’re admitting defeat, sweetheart?”

“Slowest setting,” you hiss back, despite the fact your clit is pulsating with overstimulation, and you’re not convinced that you can cum again.

“Don’t forget who’s in charge here.” Marcus reminds you with a waggle of his brows. You mumble a quiet ‘yes sir’, as you stroke him slowly, before he places the wand against your clit.

The hiss you make as it touches your swollen bundle of nerves makes him stop for a few seconds to study your face, and once he’s comfortable that you’re okay and ready to go again, he switches it on… on the highest setting.

“Fuck, Marcus,” you groan, as your fingers squeeze tightly around his length, making his hips stutter.

“You know the safeword,” he simply coos. His spare hand reaches down to caress your tit, rolling your nipple in between his fingers before lightly slapping it, just to see the shock on your face and hear you whimper his name.

His name gets caught in your throat though, as your hips try to chase and rock away from the wand all at once, your pleasure receptors needing more even as your brain tells them no.

“I’ve got you, baby,” Marcus chants, as your hand slips from his cock and grips at the bed sheets beneath you, whimpering as another orgasm threatens to devastate and delight you.

He presses the wand just a little harder against your clit as your hips go into overdrive, rocking against the toy before you're completely awash with white hot pleasure and fireworks are exploding behind your pretty eyes.

“Marcus,” you plead, as he works you through your high, his sweet nothings filling your ears before he gently pulls it away and captures your lips with his.

His cock twitches against your stomach as he gently nibbles on your bottom lip, letting you catch your breath for a few seconds.

You watch as he slowly pushes himself up and looks down at your pussy, and his tongue comes out to wet his lips.

“It’s going to be a long night, sweetheart,” he smirks, before pressing a kiss to your knee, “and I’m only just getting started.”

You whine his name whimpering as his tongue starts lapping at your clit again.

You never should have challenged Marcus Pike.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedrostories #marcus pike #marcus pike smut #marcus pike imagine #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike x female reader #the mentalist #the mentalist fanfiction #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #CKT23 #marcus pike x ofc #my fanfiction #my fanfic

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thetriumphantpanda · 8 months

Note

Breeding kink with Pike?

Anon said breeding kink with Marcus Pike and my brain went 'say less' - I love that man with every ounce of my being and this... well, it did something to me!

Pairing | Marcus Pike x F!Reader

Word Count | 1.4k

Warnings | Explicit. 18+, Minors DNI. Sweet, sweet Marcus Pike, some allusions to pain during sex but nothing to cause it here, obviously breeding kink, little bit of praise kink and maybe some daddy kink if you squint a little. Also un-beta'd so, all mistakes my own I guess.

Part of my 1k Smut Sensation Celebration (now bleeding into my 2K celebration) - if you want to read previous requests, you can do that here .

He’s looking at you over his drink with those eyes that you love. Eyes that tell you he’d rather be anywhere else but here, with you, in this restaurant. His coffee brown eyes have gone dark, mainly from the way you’ve been wrapping your lips around the straw in your drink, sucking the fizzy vodka tonic into your mouth, looking into his eyes as you swallow, much like you would if you were alone right now.

“You going to keep teasing me like that all night?” He asks, raising his hand for the waiter to bring your bill.

“I’m not teasing.” You smirk, sucking the last of your drink into your mouth.

“The way my jeans are fitting right now would suggest otherwise.” He speaks lowly, finishing just in time for the check to be placed on your table.

“I’m not responsible for your inability to control yourself, Marcus,” You tease as he fishes his card out of his wallet to pay, “Can’t help that you love me so much you want to keep me perpetually naked.”

He chokes a little as the waiter comes by to take the payment, and then Marcus is all but dragging you by the wrist from the restaurant. You don’t miss how he stops just outside the door to adjust his jeans. His long strides down the sidewalk mean you have to almost jog to keep up with him as he walks the short distance back to your apartment. The one you’ve shared with him for almost a year now.

He doesn’t even bother turning the main lights on when you get in, just locks the door behind you, dragging you into your bedroom. He’s not even kissed you when he pushes gently on your shoulders to sit you on the edge of the bed, dropping to his knees in front of you. It’s almost second nature to you now, the way you hike the hemline of your dress up your thighs and spread your legs for him.

You smile when a choked gasp leaves his mouth, eyes dropping to the red lace covering your sex. He hasn’t seen this in a while. His warm palms trace up the inside of your thighs, his breath ghosting over your skin.

“You get all dressed up for me?” He speaks lowly.

“Why don’t you take my dress off and find out, baby?”

It was a calculated ploy by you, the wrap dress. Showing off your cleavage all evening, you’d caught his eyes dropping to the swell of your breasts more times than you can count, but it was also easy to take off, as Marcus was currently demonstrating – pulling at the belt at your side, watching as it reveals that you did indeed dress up for him, red lace cupping your breasts, just like the red lace between your legs.

“Fucking hell,” He breathes out, hands coming up to massage your tits as his lips finally meet your own, tongue meeting yours as he pulls the cups of lace down, you moan into his mouth when he thumbs over your nipples, rubbing them to stiff peaks, “Did I forget something special?” He asks.

You chuckle against his lips, his hands moving to shove the dress from your shoulders, sitting back on his heels to take in the sight of you. Legs spread, tits exposed, just waiting for his next move.

“You gonna eat me out, agent?” You ask, raising an eyebrow at him, lifting your foot up his thigh to rest where he’s almost bulging out of his jeans.

“You think you deserve that after teasing me all night?” He growls, gripping your ankle to keep you still.

“You know you’ve got to work me up,” You smirk, eyes dropping to his groin again, “Don’t wanna hurt me, do you?”

He brings a hand to your neck, holding gently as he growls into your ear, “Don’t pretend you don’t like it when it hurts a little.”

He releases your neck, hands trailing down your body to the thin waistband of your panties. You lift your hips off the bed automatically, watching as he drags the scrap of lace down your legs and onto the floor. He moves you so that you’re lying flat on the bed now, his own body settled between your thighs as his fingers dip through your folds to your weeping hole.

“You don’t need any working up baby,” He groans, teeth nipping at your neck, “Fucking soaked just from teasing me.”

He eases two of his thick fingers into your cunt, curling them upwards almost immediately. Your big talk is suddenly nowhere to be found, not when his fingers move inside you like they do. He works you open with that expert precision he’s always had with you, got you writhing underneath him in no time. When he pulls his fingers from you, you whine, until your eyes train on him undressing himself.

He's back on you in seconds, kissing your open mouth, grinding his hip into yours so his thick cock drags through your folds, nudging at your clit every few seconds. He pulls back gently, reaching over into the bedside table for a condom, when your hand wraps around his wrist to stop him.

You look him directly in the eye, “Not tonight agent,” You breathe, “Put a baby in me.”

You’re pretty sure you see the way his brain malfunctions at your words. You’d spoken about this enough for it to not be a secret, you’d come off the pill months ago but had both agreed to wait a few more months before trying. Well, you were tired of waiting, you wanted Marcus to give you what you wanted.

“Baby,” He groans, “You sure?”

You reach down between the two of you, gripping his cock in your fist, pumping it a few times, “We’ve waited long enough,” You groan as you move your hips, lining his cock up to your aching cunt, “Fuck me, Marcus.”

He does just that, pushing his hips into yours to sink himself into your heat, dipping his head to kiss along your jaw as you shift your hips underneath him, urging him to move, to do anything. Marcus pulls back, sitting on his knees, with his hands on your hips as he starts fucking into you in earnest now. His eyes are trained on the way you’re spread out for him. His hands slip from your hips to rest on your tummy. With his cock still spearing into you at just the right angle to have you crying out of every thrust, his soft hands on your tummy almost make you want to cry.

“You’ll look so fucking beautiful baby,” He groans, looking down at you, “So fucking beautiful full of my baby.”

You reach down, fingers seeking out your own clit for relief as Marcus pounds into you with an intensity you’ve not seen before – like he knows now you’ve given him permission, he’s got hell of a fucking job to do.

“Wanna make you a daddy,” You squeal as he shifts his hips just a little to change the angle of his thrusts, “Come on baby, fill me up, please.”

“Make yourself come for me darling girl,” You can tell he’s close, his voice breathy and his hips starting to stutter, “And I’ll give you anything in the world.”

You add more pressure to the circles your drawing on your swollen clit, back arching off the bed as the tight coil finally snaps in you, crying our Marcus’ name as your pussy clenches around him.

“God damnit baby,” He groans, finally falling onto his palms, placing either side of your head as he chases his own high, “Clenching so well around me, such a good fucking girl for me.”

All you can do is continue with the moans of his name, gripping onto his sides as he pounds into you. He doesn’t last much longer, stilling inside you. You can feel that familiar warmth spread through you, thick ropes of his cum painting your walls like you’d begged for, and God it feels good.

He pushes himself back from you, back onto his knees as he pulls out of you, watching as his cum drips from your spent pussy. He looks you directly in the eye as he uses his thumb to push what’s fallen from you back inside, lifting his fingers to your mouth so you can clean off what’s left behind.

Marcus finally collapses next to you, pulling your shoulders to bring you closer to him, your sweaty skin sticking to each other as his fingers draw patterns along your shoulders as you wrap your arm across his waist.

“Not bad for a first try,” He chuckles, kiss pressed to the top of your head, “Need to perfect it though, what do you think?”

“Practice makes perfect, after all.”

#Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike smut #Marcus Pike fluff #Marcus Pike fic #Marcus Pike fanfic #marcus pike fanfiction #Marcus Pike Imagine #The Mentalist #Marcus Pike x you #Marcus Pike x Reader #Marcus Pike x female reader #Marcus Pike x f!reader #Pedro Pascal #Marcus Pike Pedro Pascal

211 notes · View notes

say-al0e · 6 months

Text

Choices

rating: m - this is smut! No one under 18! Minors, DNI!

Summary: Marcus has seen the aftermath of your work more often than you could count. You often worry that he'll grow tired of picking up the pieces after a particularly rough case but he's here to remind you that he'll always choose you. Warnings: Vague mentions of injuries/bruising, darkness associated with working for the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit (Criminal Minds), anxiety, stress, worry, unprotected PinV. If there's anything else, let me know! Pairing: Marcus Pike x fem!Reader (BAU Agent [Criminal Minds] Reader) Word Count: 3.4k

The feelings that tended to linger after cases were, in your line of work, rarely ever good. Occasionally, you found yourself elated - happy to have reunited a family or saved a life in the nick of time - but more often than not, there was only sadness. Most cases weighed heavy on your chest, dark and haunting, and this one was no different.

It seemed as if the other members of your team felt the same as the elevator remained silent. Soft breathing and the grinding of gears filled your ears as you slowly ascended to the sixth floor and you weren’t surprised. Six long, grueling days had passed since you last stepped foot in this elevator - bag packed and ready to head to Oregon, Spencer spouting fact after fact as you headed for the jet - and every one of you was exhausted.

Despite the late hour, however, a light illuminated the bullpen.

Marcus sat at your desk, a case file of his own spread across the top. He wore jeans and a sweatshirt, a far cry from his work attire that let you know he’d driven to the office just for you, and you imagined he’d been sitting there since the jet landed.

That, coupled with the overwhelming emotion the case had drudged up, made your eyes sting with tears you refused to shed in the bullpen.

Marcus met your eyes the moment you stepped out of the elevator and his face fell, heartbreak clear in the curve of his mouth, as he took in the glassy look in your eyes. He stood as you crossed the threshold into the small office space, focus solely on you, and waited patiently for you to come to him.

Morgan gripped Marcus’ shoulder as he brushed past him, offering him a look that spoke volumes despite his silence, while the others nodded silent greetings. Everyone began to disperse, each trudging wearily through the bullpen to grab any items they might need, as Marcus gathered your already packed bag from beneath your desk.

“C’mon,” he urged, voice a soft whisper as he took the go-bag from your hand and replaced its weight with the warmth of his palm. “Let’s go home.”

No words were shared as you descended to the parking deck but Marcus made it a point to keep his hand in yours. You could feel the weight of his gaze on your skin, warm and reassuring, but this had grown almost routine.

Bad days seemed more common than good these days - cases seemed to end with more bloodshed and fewer happy endings - and you wanted to apologize. You hated that Marcus was the one seeing the aftermath, the one left to help you pick up the pieces time and time again, but his grip on your hand gave you hope that he at least understood.

That thought kept repeating as you drove home in silence. The worry that one day, all of the darkness you found yourself surrounded by would infiltrate your life - destroy it in the same way it had destroyed Hotch, the same way it burdened JJ and Emily and Rossi and Morgan and Reid - echoed so loud you feared Marcus would hear it.

Even as you wandered through your night routine on autopilot, Marcus lingering near but giving you enough space to not feel overwhelmed, you worried.

The job was one you loved, one you appreciated the chance to do, but there was a reason everyone you knew had such miserable personal lives. The nature of your work made it difficult to feel human sometimes, especially when your other half often seemed to beautifully human - so bright and full of love and understanding and kindness - and you wondered if Marcus regretted choosing you as you finally settled into bed beside him.

Even as he shifted closer, always so eager to offer whatever comfort he could, you felt a sort of guilt needle at your skin. With anyone else, he would be happy - unburdened by their work, in addition to his own - but you selfishly reveled in the glow of his light as he draped the duvet over your legs.

“What do you need, sweetheart?”

Marcus did little to hide the desperation in his voice as soft brown eyes searched yours. The instinct to blink, to hide your face from him and retreat into yourself, was strong but you resisted. There was never much he could do - the very nature of your job meant that this was your reality, that it would happen again and again; you wanted it to happen, to remind you that you could still feel, despite all you’d seen - but that never stopped him from trying.

This was a moment you both needed. You ached for the comfort Marcus provided and he wanted to feel helpful, if only for a moment. It made the pain a touch more bearable for you both but it still made the tears you’d been fighting for hours begin to fall. Marcus crumbled in that same moment, soft eyes widening as he took in the quiver of your bottom lip and the stutter in your breathing, as the weight you’d been carrying finally made you bend.

Soft fingers caressed your side, a featherlight touch that warmed your skin and helped you shake the desperate cold that latched onto you the moment you stepped off the plane, as Marcus made quiet noises of comfort. He shifted even closer, lifted one hand to cup your cheek - fingers careful as they delicately wiped away the few tears that lingered - and your eyes slipped shut as you attempted to relax into the feeling.

It was difficult to keep the flashes from appearing in the darkness - images from the case, faces from the seemingly infinite cases you’d handled over the course of your career - and Marcus seemed to understand what was happening as your eyes flew open with a soft gasp.

That worry that you were burdening him, that you were difficult to love, that you were selfishly clinging to something you didn’t deserve, nestled deep in your chest but you could’t help yourself as you reached for him.

“Make me forget,” you begged, fingers clutching his bicep as you met his eyes. “Distract me, please.” The whispered plea came out broken, thick with tears as you bared your aching soul for Marcus to see so plainly. And his answering sigh made the ache in your chest that much stronger.

“Anything you need, sweetheart.” It was a promise you’d heard a thousand times before, one you always believed but never dared dream you deserved, and inhaled sharply as he brushed away the few tears that managed to fall. “Lie back and let me take care of you.”

Marcus’ soft urging saw you lying back, nestling in the too-soft plush of your newly shared bed, but you willed yourself to focus entirely on him.

The soft curve of his jaw, the slope of his nose, the downturn of his lips as he frowned thoughtfully, the warm brown of his eyes as he searched your skin for any new bumps or bruises or scars; every inch of him devastatingly familiar and comforting in a way you feared you would lose with every case that took you away from home.

Careful fingers traced the curve of your cheek, trailed down your neck and brushed carefully over the pulse point you knew would betray your rapidly beating heart, but Marcus made no comment. Instead, he continued his slow descent of mapping skin you knew he was more familiar with than his own.

There was rarely any hurry in moments like these. Marcus knew you needed grounding, a return to the safety of your home - of your love, of his embrace - just as you knew he needed reassuring. He took his time searching for any evidence of the difficulty of your work, never failing to press soft kisses to the wounds he could, and your heart clenched as his eyes closed upon lifting the hem of your t-shirt.

A smattering of bruises covered your abdomen, ran down your side and disappeared into the waistband of your shorts, and you knew Marcus immediately imagined the worst. It had been bad and you planned to answer any questions he had, but the injury was of little surprise. The pain had yet to fully sink in - the stiffness, the ache every time you so much as shifted - but you’d seen worse and so had he.

“You should see the other guy.” The joke sounded weak in your own ears, half-hearted and hollow, but Marcus dutifully played along.

As he carefully pulled the fabric over your head, he hummed. “I wouldn’t want to be him.”

Marcus leaned in then, careful to rest as little weight on you as he could manage, and pressed his mouth to yours in a soft kiss. There was a tentativeness to the kiss that he only showed in moments like these, a hesitance that reminded you of that very first date, but it lasted for only a second.

When your hand lifted to the back of his neck, fingers pressing into his skin to pull him closer, Marcus sank into you.

Every emotion he’d felt over the course of the week poured into the kiss. Each ounce of anguish, of worry, of relief bled through the embrace as his hand fell to an uninjured spot on your hip to ground himself. There were worries he’d never speak aloud - fears he kept to himself as he knew they’d only further your own anxiety - but in moments like these, you felt them clearly.

A sort of desperation gripped you, had you pulling him close despite the ache settling deep in your bones, as your fingers pressed hard into his skin. Your focus fell to him entirely, blocking out the darkness that threatened to overwhelm you more often than not, and you were grateful for his presence as he nosed at the hinge of your jaw.

Deft hands trailed down your warm skin, dipped beneath the band of your shorts and brushed at the fabric covering you. This was never truly about pleasure - not in the way it so often seemed to be with Marcus, a partner who truly understood what you needed, what you wanted. This was about connection, grounding, a moment to remind you both that you were home, safely tucked into the sheets at his side once more.

Despite that understand, Marcus was a giver. He never failed give his all and you were reminded of his generosity as his fingers dipped beneath the fabric of your panties.

Warm, featherlight kisses trailed over your jaw, down the column of your throat, as practiced fingers traced your slit. “Focus on me,” he urged, touch teasing but purposeful as he tipped his head to steal a glimpse at your face. “Just feel.”

With fingers still trembling, you lifted your hand to his chest and placed your palm over his heart. Marcus hummed encouragingly, a reminder of the first time he made that request, and you willed your own heart to match his rhythm. Steady and strong, just as he always seemed to be, helped you relax into his embrace as his thumb found the small bundle of nerves.

When he managed to draw a soft sigh, Marcus smiled. “That’s it, sweetheart.”

Soft murmurs of praise filled the room, warm and husky in that tone he reserved just for you, as his fingers pressed into you. With every swipe of his thumb, with every insistent press as he worked you open, you felt yourself returning to the moment at hand. Each flutter of your lashes grew easier, less daunting, and you marveled at his ability to capture your attention so wholly as the dark began to fill with visions of him.

Deep brown eyes, marveling at the way your lips parted and your chest heaved; soft lips, swollen from kisses and the way his teeth sank into them when you writhed beneath him; strong arms, desperate to wrap around your frame as you fell apart beneath him. Visions of Marcus steadily filled the void and warmed you from within, drawing soft moans and eager cries of his name as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

The only pause in his ministration was to tug the soft fabric of your shorts down your legs, eager to slip between your spread thighs in the way he so often did. However, before he could throw you over the edge with a talented tongue and eager eyes watching your every move, you gripped his bicep.

“Not tonight. I just…” It was soft, a careful plea that almost seemed brittle in comparison to your usual requests, but Marcus seemed to understand. With a deep breath, eyes stinging with unshed tears, you shook your head. “Just want you close tonight, please.”

Marcus acquiesced, always so eager to give you what you wanted, and you swallowed the pang of guilt you felt at the position you so often put him in. He deserved more - deserved stable, happy, soft, warm - but you refused to dwell on that thought as he shifted.

A careful hand lifted your leg, littered in more bruises you knew he’d catalogue later, and wrapped it around his waist to press impossibly closer. He nudged his sweatpants down just enough to free his cock before notching the head at your dripping entrance.

The stretch of him always hit you hard, captured your attention fully and made it impossible to think about anything other than his touch, and Marcus used that to his advantage as he leaned in to press his lips to yours. He eagerly swallowed the soft noises that left your lips, the sighs and moans that escaped as he buried himself to the hilt, and left only an inch of space when you both needed air.

With his forehead pressed to yours, those dark eyes always so observant, Marcus set a pace that had you clinging to him. He pressed impossibly deep, hitting the spot that saw stars bursting in your field of vision, and gave in to your insistent tugging as he leaned more of his weight onto you. You knew he’d move as soon as you both finished, eager to keep from hurting you, but you took all he was willing to give and comforted yourself in his presence as he wound you tighter and tighter.

Every snap of his hips, every soft press of his mouth to your rapidly heating skin, every whispered word of praise chipped away at you. Piece by brittle piece, Marcus broke you apart. He would spend the next day putting you back together again but you thought little of anything other than the heat of his skin pressed to yours.

The beat of his heart hammered beneath your fingertips, climbing ever higher with every snap of his hips - with every swipe of his fingers, of his mouth over your heated skin - and you reveled in the break in his voice as he urged, “Come for me, sweetheart. Let go.”

With a cry of his name and clinging to him, you came. Marcus swallowed every noise, lips ghosting over your own, and followed shortly after. And while he would’ve ordinarily allowed you to keep him pressed close, weight resting atop your body, he’d seen the state of you. He’d already pressed closer than he intended and pulled away the moment you both began to come down.

Marcus settled in beside you, pulled you into his chest and gave you space to shift until you were comfortable, before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. In the silence of the bedroom, you listened as his breathing evened and debated speaking for a long while.

But as the darkness settled, the silence oppressively loud, you couldn’t stop the words from escaping. “I’m sorry.”

The apology lingered in the darkness for so long that you began to wonder if Marcus had fallen asleep. You knew him better than that, however, and swallowed your own sigh as he made a comforting noise.

“You have nothing to apologize for.” His voice was soft, comforting, but there was a certainty in the way he spoke that made your heart begin to hammer in your chest once more. There was a finality, a promise that made you realize he knew exactly what you were apologizing for, and you buried your face in the crook of his neck as he lifted a hand to cradle the back of your head.

“None of this is on you, sweetheart,” he reminded you gently, voice quiet in the still of the room. “You see such terrible things every day. You’re constantly faced with the worst humanity has to offer but you keep going. You’ve helped so many people. I know how bad it hurts that you can’t save everyone but think of all the people you have saved. This case was hard and the next one probably will be, too, but you never have to apologize for needing help carrying that weight. We’re partners,” he stressed, a reminder you’d heard a thousand times before, “that’s what I’m here for.”

“I know. I just…” Marcus waited patiently, fingers careful not to press too hard to your skin as he brushed nonsensical patterns across your back. “You deserve better,” you settled for, voicing the one concern you held so close to your chest aloud. “My life, it’s just darkness. There’s never any guarantee that the darkness won’t follow me home, that it won’t come back to haunt me, that it won’t come back to haunt you because you love me. There’s no guarantee I’ll come back from the next case or the one after that.”

With a shuddering breath, you shook your head as best as you were able held so close to his chest. “You’re such a good man, Marcus. You’re so kind and loving. You give so much of yourself and ask so little in return. The least I could do is give you an easy love but I’m not… I’m never going to be that.”

“Sometimes, what’s easy isn’t worth having.” Marcus shifted away from you then, turned to the side to flicker on the bedside lamp, and met your eyes in the soft glow. “I don’t want an easy love,” he promised, so certain you felt your chest begin to ache. “I want this love. I want your love.”

When you blinked, tears threatening to fall, Marcus sighed quietly. “I worry. Every single time you leave, I’m afraid that I’ll get a call that you’re coming home with stitches or a cast or that you’re stuck in some hospital somewhere. I’m afraid I’ll get a call that you’re not coming home at all. I hate worrying about that because I know you’re capable and your team is amazing but I’m going to worry because I love you. Every time you come home, I see you doing your best to hold it together and I hate seeing you so broken but I’ll be sitting there, waiting, until you tell me to stop. I hate watching you look over your shoulder after the worst cases, never afraid for you but always afraid for me, but I’ll keep looking with you. You love this job and you do it well. This is your life and I knew what I was signing up for. None of this was a surprise to me,” he reminded you, gently. “I chose this, I chose you, and it was the best choice I’ve ever made.”

The tears began to fall then, both of relief and immense sadness, and Marcus abandoned his attempt to keep you physically comfortable in an effort to bring you the closeness he knew you craved. He pulled you in tight, arms wrapping around you, and held you to his chest. You both knew that this would happen again, that there would be another case and another bout of doubt, but you knew that Marcus would be there to reassure you again and again.

Just as he’d chosen you, you chose him. And it was the best choice you’d ever made.

___________________________________________________________

Author's Note: I'm in a Pedro mood. Let's capitalize on this and knock out a few WIPs and get to work on a Frankie fic. :) I have a job interview this week so fingers crossed it goes well and I get the offer!

Tag List: @peoniarose, @karie-me-home, @rachelwritestuff, @stardust-galaxies, @deliciouslydisturbed365, @a-louise-juliane, @ben-is-a-hoe, @weasleywinchester, @crowfootwrites, @winchestershiresauce, @kesskirata, @lyr1ssa, @viyasstuff, @negansnympho89, @im-just-a-mississippi-girl, @kirsteng42, @balekanemohafe, @avengers-fixation, @buckybarneshairpullingkink, @nintendhoe8, @luciferiorbxtch, @jettia, @xoxabs88xox

#pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagine #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike imagine #marcus pike x you #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fic #v's fics

113 notes · View notes

youvebeenlivingfictional · 7 months

Text

Kinktober Day 22

Day Twenty-One | 🌹Kinktober Masterlist🌹 | Day Twenty-Three

Pairing: Marcus Pike x OlderVirgin!Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only. Any minors interacting with ANY of these Kinktober prompts will be blocked

Warnings: Reader is an older virgin; fingering; oral sex; loss of virginity; vaginal sex; safe sex

Marcus doesn’t laugh when you tell him. He doesn’t even flinch. It’s stunning. You feel like folding in on yourself, but Marcus just looks at you as if you’ve just told him about the forecast for the week. Maybe that should make it better, but it almost makes it…Worse. You’ve gotten no reaction; Marcus’ face is almost pointedly flat, as if he’s masking what he thinks, what he feels.

You groan softly, scooching away from him, even as he murmurs, “Hang on—”

You don’t hang on, but you don't run away from him like you’d like to, either. You tug the sheets up around your bare chest before you cover your heating face with your hands. You can feel the bed shifting beside you before Marcus’ hands gently curl around your wrists. He doesn’t try to pull them back from your face, he just waits for a moment. You draw in a few deep breaths, trying to quell your embarrassment before you lower your hands to your lap. Marcus’ hands lower to your thighs, the heat of them bleeding through the sheets.

“It’s normal,” He soothes.

“I know.”

“Everyone moves at their own pace—”

“I know.” You can feel your defensive irritation building, and shut your eyes, trying to steady yourself.

“I’m sorry,” You shake your head, resting your hands atop his. “It’s…I’ve never told anyone that I’m a virgin and had it…Go well.”

Marcus turns his hands over in yours, and bless him, he waits again. You draw in a deep breath, hold it for a few beats, and push it out slowly, giving Marcus’ hands a small squeeze.

“Can we slow down?” You ask.

“Of course we can.” He answers without a single hesitation.

He doesn’t ask. For a while, he doesn’t even mention it. You’re not sure which is worse: talking about it, or not talking about it. You can’t help but wonder if he has questions that he’s just keeping to himself. You can feel him watching you now and again, but when you glance over questioningly, he just smiles. It puts you at ease.

You still don’t jump right into it.

You spend nights together, the two of you both fool around and get each other off, but you notice that he lets you lead. You’re certain he’s doing it on purpose, even if he won’t tell you.

“...Have you just never…Had the urge?” Marcus finally hedges one afternoon. You’re not sure what’s brought it to his mind. Maybe he’s thought of you—wanting you. Maybe he’s held back. You just keep your gaze set stalwartly on the television, watching Bogart and Bergman skillfully dance around what they really want to say. Maybe Marcus has been doing that for weeks; maybe he doesn’t have the patience for it anymore.

“I have,” You admit. “But no one’s ever…Wanted to.”

It feels shameful, and uncomfortable. No one’s ever wanted you like this. No one’s ever shoved their hands up under your shirt, murmured against your sweat-slicked skin that they need you—

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Marcus soothes, and by the slightly stunned tone, you’re certain that he really means it. Still, you shrug, looking at your lap as you try to ignore the way your stomach twists with discomfort.

“Well,” You mumble in concession, “If it is, they’ve never said anything.”

Marcus lets out a soft hum of sympathy, his hand smoothing over your arm.

“People don’t always ask for what they want.”

“I guess.”

You can’t help your smile as Marcus presses his face into your neck, dotting the skin with kisses.

“For what it’s worth,” He murmurs, “I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you.”

Your smile widens, and you squeeze your eyes shut to quell the wave of relieved tears that spring up in your eyes.

Marcus gives you the time, and the space, and you decide that since the ball is in your court, you oughta do something with it. It’s a gamble, and it terrifies you, but as the two of you makeout lazily on his couch, you push yourself to straddle his lap. Marcus slides his hands over your thighs, giving them a gentle squeeze as his tongue sweeps past your lips. You cup Marcus’ cheeks, drawing back to get a good look at him.

“Marcus?” You murmur.

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Can we go to bed?”

“Sure,” Marcus nods, shaking back his sleeve to eye his watch. “I didn’t realize how late it had gotten—”

“No, Marcus, I…” You swallow thickly, summoning all of your courage and steadying yourself. “I want to go to bed.”

Marcus’ brow furrows and he nods. “Yeah, I know. We can…” He trails off, searching your rapidly heating face. You watch as it dawns on him, his brows raising and his lips puckering into a small, surprised o.

“Are you sure?” He presses. You nod, leaning in and brushing his lips gently along yours.

“I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”

We can stop if you want to.

He reminds you as he takes you apart, just before he lowers you onto the bed; just before he makes you shake apart with his tongue, and his fingers, and the sight of his pretty, dark eyes fluttering closed as he tastes you.

We can take our time.

Marcus says that over and over again—as you take him into your mouth; as he eases and curls his fingers to help stretch your throbbing, needy pussy.

You’re in control.

He murmurs it against your neck; against your thigh; against your sternum as he presses reverent kisses to the space between your breasts.

He makes you feel in control, too, smoothing his hands over your head as you roll the condom onto his cock and lightly stroke him. You tip your chin up, brushing your lips against his, and smiling as Marcus bows closer to give you a warm, sweet kiss.

“Are you ready?” He asks softly.

“Yes.”

You lay back, stomach fluttering with nerves as Marcus leans over you, grinding gently against you. You shiver at the feeling of his cock grinding against your slick folds. You bite your lip as the head of his cock nudges your entrance. His gaze flickers up to yours, and you nod.

“Please, Marcus,” You reach down, grasping his cock and guiding him closer. Marcus braces himself over you, slowly pressing deeper inside. You let your head fall back, your eyes sliding closed as you savor the sensation of him filling you. It’s a little uncomfortable in its unfamiliarity, but he’s taken so much care to stretch you that the feeling isn’t unbearable. He goes still once his hips are flush against yours, and you manage to just catch his stifled groan as your cunt throbs around him.

“Is that—” He sighs as you slide your hands up over his arms. “How do you feel, sweetheart?”

“I…” You sigh, fumbling for your words, “It feels so…Mm, god, it feels amazing.”

“Yeah?”

“You feel big, Marcus.” You open your eyes, smiling up at him as he beams at you. He presses his chest against yours, catching your lips in a kiss. You curl your arms around his shoulders, sliding your feet up to bend your knees. The shift makes your pussy pulse, and you whimper against his lips. Marcus lifts his head, resting his forehead against yours.

“Marcus?”

“Yeah, sweetheart.”

“Move? Please?”

Marcus nods, sliding a hand down to your thigh to steady himself. He draws out, then eases his hips again. The sensation makes your breath catch in your throat. Your hips seem to tip up against his of their own volition, chasing the unfamiliar stretch of him. You can see him holding back. It’s in the tightness of his jaw, and the slow, steady way that he thrusts into you. You take in the sight of him—of his biceps as he holds himself over you, the furrow of his brow, his hazy eyes as he peers down at where you’re connected.

“You’re doing great, sweetheart,” Marcus pants, “Fuck, you feel perfect.”

The praise makes you shiver, your mouth falling open. You dig your nails into his shoulders as your pussy ripples around him.

“Marcus,” You plead, “More.”

He hikes your leg up around his hip, thrusting with more force. The bed creaks a bit, your headboard whacking lightly against the wall in time with the slapping of your hips. You grasp the back of his neck, drawing him down for another kiss. His hand snakes down, swiping across your throbbing clit. You can feel him smiling against your lips as you whine into his mouth.

“Is this what you needed?” He goads.

“Yes, Marcus, yes—”

“How does that feel?”

“Good, it feels so good, you—Oh god, oh god,” You gasp, hips pressing up into his cock and his fingers. He murmurs encouragingly, fingers swirling your clit in small, concentrated circles with each thrust of his hips. You can feel your orgasm creeping up, your toes curling in the sheets as you fist a hand in Marcus’ hair.

“Marcus,” You warn softly.

“Yeah—Oh, I know, fucking look at you,” He presses closer, hips sawing with long, slow thrusts. “I want you to cum for me, sweetheart. You’re so fucking perfect, taking my cock like this.”

Your mouth falls open with a moan as you raise a hand, toying with your breast and thumbing your aching nipple. Your eyelids flutter, back arching as you press your hips up against his, whimpering and moaning as you fall apart around him. Marcus keeps his thrusts steady as you cum, cunt tightening and throbbing around him.

It’s a few moments before you hear him before you hear him curse under his breath, and thrilling in the feeling of his hips rabbiting, then stilling. You listen to him panting, feel him gently draw out of you before he climbs off of you, leaving your sweat-sheened skin to cool. You close your eyes, listening to him pad away from the bed. It’s followed by the hissing of the faucet, the plop of the condom being dropped into the waste bin, the burble of a washcloth being squeezed out, and the return of his footsteps.

You open your eyes, watching him, and smiling as he gently cleans you off. He glances up, his eyes catching on yours, and you smile, stroking his chin gently. Marcus sets the washcloth aside, climbing back onto the bed properly and drawing you into his chest. You cuddle into him, sliding a leg over his and thrilling in the lingering throb between your thighs.

“How are you feeling?” Marcus murmurs.

“Mm…Sleepy,” You admit, smiling as he chuckles.

“I really took it out of you, huh.”

“After you put it into me, yeah.” You laugh as Marcus does, grinning up at him as he tips his head back against the pillows, his belly rising and falling with laugh. You lean up, cupping his and gently guiding his head toward yours, giving him a tender kiss.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” You murmur.

He shakes his head, giving your side a gentle squeeze.

“Thank you for trusting me to.”

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#Marcus Pike x Reader #Marcus Pike x You #Marcus Pike/Redear #Marcus Pike/You #Marcus Pike fic #Marcus Pike imagine #Kinktober #Kinktober 2023

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flightlessangelwings · 6 months

Text

Ktober 2023 Day 27- Food Play

Marcus Pike x fem!reader

Word count- 1k

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), food mention (syrup, whipped cream), body worship, nipple/breast play, teasing, implied oral, no use of y/n

Notes- This is very cliche for Marcus but I couldn't resist writing it lol! And this is more of a tease than any of the other ones for this month but I like it this way honestly. Prompt list made by me! Enjoy!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is myupdate blog so please follow that too and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on my new fics!

“Hey babe, can you pass me the syrup?” you asked Marcus. The two of you sat side by side on the touch, your takeout food on the coffee table in front of you. It was date night in, and it was the best night of the week for both of you.

“Sure thing honey,” he replied with a wink, proud of the food pun he made.

You rolled your eyes as you reached for the bottle, but a jolt of electricity ran through your veins when your fingers brushed against his. No matter how long you were with Marcus Pike, his touch never got old, and you craved him more than the delicious food on the plate. You licked your lips as your eyes trailed up his bare arm and your heart melted when you saw the smile on his face.

“Thanks,” you breathed as he reluctantly let go.

But, as he did so, a few drops of the syrup fell from the bottle and splashed his finger, “Aw damn,” he muttered as he moved to lick it off.

“Wait,” you grabbed his wrist and launched yourself at him, “Let me,” you purred as your tone dropped.

Never breaking eye contact with Marcus, you brought his hand to your face and darted your tongue out. Tracing along the length of his finger, you ran your tongue up until you reached the tip and wrapped your lips around it. You let out a soft moan as you savored the sweet taste of the syrup mixed with the salty unique taste of his skin.

Marcus gasped as he watched the display, and the mood suddenly changed in the room. He groaned as he watched you work his finger with your tongue, licking the syrup clean off and then some. He knew what you were doing, and it was working.

“Holy shit,” Marcus gasped as you sucked on the tip of his finger, sending a pulse of need right to his cock.

You smirked around his finger as you gently guided one more into your mouth. The way Marcus murmured your name made you clench your thighs together. You moaned into him as you bobbed your head up and down his fingers, mimicking the way you would work his cock.

“Fuck… Baby…” Marcus groaned as he grabbed you and yanked you off of his hand. The two of you stared at each other in a tense silence for a moment before he smirked, “Let me have a taste too.”

“Marcus,” you laughed softly as he reached for a can of whipped cream.

“Lean back,” his voice was gentle, but yet had a commanding air about it at the same time, “And take that off.” He motioned to your shirt.

“Yes sir,” you grinned. But you let out a whine once you were topless and noticed the way Marcus’ gaze bore into you. “Marcus…”

“You’re so beautiful, baby,” he murmured as he cupped your face and kissed you desperately. He swallowed the moan you let out as you clung to his shoulders and tilted your head to allow him to deepen the kiss. Marcus savored the taste of you as his tongue tangled with yours, and it made his cock twitch in his pants.

Without breaking away, Marcus shook the can of whipped cream and sprayed it on your chest in little drops. You only broke away to burst into laughter as you found yourself covered in whipped cream. And Marcus immediately joined your laughter.

“You are too much, Marcus Pike,” you said with a giggle.

“You like it,” he snickered as his eyes roamed across your chest. He managed to hit your nipple perfectly with a dollop of whipped cream, but the rest was a mess across your skin.

“I do,” your tone dropped as you watched him devour you with his eyes.

This was silly, it was ridiculous, it was messy. But it was perfect. Marcus whispered your name as he grabbed your hips and yanked you closer. He dipped his head down and wrapped his lips around your breast, letting the whipped cream cover his face while he tasted both you and the dessert. The laugher dissipated as you let out a loud moan when you felt his tongue trace across your skin.

“Marcus…” you breathed as you buried a hand in his hair, tugging as he flicked his tongue across your nipple.

He groaned into you, not wanting to break away for even a second. Marcus tightened his grip on you as he lavished you, worshiping your body and pulling every sweet sound he could from your lips. He nodded his head up and down, licking away every trace of the whipped cream from your breast until nothing was left but a sticky residue.

Marcus finally came up for air, releasing your skins with a loud pop. He looked at you with glazed over eyes and breathed heavily. Drops of cream dripped from his lips as he ran his eyes over your body.

“Enjoy that, Marcus?” you asked with a breathless laugh.

“My favorite dessert,” he quipped back, “Delicious,” his tone dropped as he dove back into you, licking at the mess he made with the can.

You erupted into a fit of moans and giggles as Marcus tickled your skin with his tongue. You felt his laugh into you as his hands caressed your body while he devoured you. The laughter dissolved more into moans as Marcus’ tongue grazed over more sensitive spots. He huffed with pleasure into you as he bit down on your skin, tasting you even more.

“Are you gonna let me have my ultimate favorite, baby?” Marcus asked, his eyes blown dark with desire.

You let out a few deep breaths before you even realized Marcus had asked you anything. Blinking your eyes open, you gasped when you saw the need in his eyes. His usually neat hair fell in his face in soft waves and his mouth hung open.

Smirking, you caressed his face, “And what’s your ultimate favorite, babe?”

His grin matched your own, “I think you know what I mean,” Marcus said in a low rumble.

“I think you’ll have to show me,” you replied with a challenge in your eyes.

The food on the coffee table was long forgotten by the time Marcus was finished with you. But he was satisfied nonetheless.

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tropes-and-tales · 1 year

Text

Nothing is Certain

CW: Heavy angst (character death); unrequited love; idiots in love; drunken confessions

Word Count: 3664

Other Pieces: The final installment. The first part is here, the second part is here.

A year passes. Marcus doesn’t see you, doesn’t hear from you, and he tries to be okay with that. He tries to accept that he was never a real friend to you and that you’ve made your choice to move forward in your life without him.

He tries to be okay with it. He often fails, and he is tempted all the time to reach out, to find where you live, to accidentally run into you. He knows that’s stalking territory, creepy behavior territory, so he doesn’t. When the FBI needs an art expert and when they reach out to you, he always passes the communication off to another agent. He refuses to cross that boundary.

He goes to therapy. He gets a rescue dog he names Rothko. He dates casually, but he finds the desperate drive to not be alone has died down a little. He can be alone and be okay. He doesn’t need to fall into one bad relationship after another.

He hopes you’re not alone. He hopes you’ve found someone who recognized your worth the minute they saw you, and he hopes they cherish you every single day.

He considers that growth: to pray fervently every night for your happiness instead of his own. For the first time in his life, he’s considering someone other than himself.

-----

A year passes, and Marcus calls home every Sunday night to talk to his parents, but mostly his mother.

When his mother calls in the middle of the day on a random Tuesday, he knows it can’t be good news. He answers, hears his mother say your name.

“Her dad died,” she says, and Marcus can hear the tears in her voice over the line. “Just this morning.”

He sits down at his desk, hard. He listens to the rest of it—how it was sudden, unexpected, a likely heart attack. How there’s no arrangements yet, obviously, but how you’re already on your way home to Texas to be with your family.

“Mom, what should I do?” he asks, bereft. He has no idea what to do. Should he go home to Texas too? Or should he leave you alone as he has been?

“Oh, honey,” she says. “You know her best, but I can tell you: moments like these make all the petty stuff fall away.”

Breaking your heart and mistreating your love for him hardly seems petty, but Marcus books the ticket home the moment he hangs up with his mother.

-----

He knows he’s made the right decision the minute he finally sees you.

He goes with his mom over to your childhood home, his mom bearing a tray of tamales and him carrying a small flower arrangement. Despite being friends as kids, Marcus rarely ever went to your house—you always went to his. Your family was a step lower on the socio-economic ladder, and you had seemed embarrassed as a kid by how much smaller your home was, how much shabbier. How your mom worked while his was able to stay home and keep their house clean and make homemade meals each night.

Your older sister answers the door, hugs his mom. Takes the tray and the flowers with a murmured thanks, then calls your name.

He knows he’s made the right decision to come to Texas to be with you: the moment you catch sight of him, you run straight to him. Straight to his arms.

And for the first time in his life, he’s there to catch you.

-----

Marcus doesn’t have much experience with funerals. Two of his grandparents are still alive; the other two died before he was born. His parents are still alive. He’s never lost a coworker in the field.

The closest he has is the death of his childhood dog, and that hardly qualifies.

When he sees you that moment at your house, he only holds you. He murmurs against you that it’s okay, but then he stops because of course it’s not okay.

He says he’s there, that he’s got you, that whatever you need he’s there for you, and that seems better.

He leads you through the house and takes you outside into the backyard, and he urges you to sit on the steps of the back porch beside him. He puts a tentative arm around your shoulders and you sag against him, grateful.

“No one saw this coming,” you tell him, your voice hoarse with tears. “He just had a checkup. Clean bill of health.” You pause. “They think it was a heart attack.”

“I’m so sorry.”

You start to cry again, quiet, as though you are exhausted. You must be, Marcus figures. Your world’s been upended, you probably threw together hasty travel plans, and now you’re in your childhood home, surrounded by your siblings and their young, noisy children. Now you have to say goodbye and bury your father.

He sits with you like that for a long while. He keeps his arm around you, takes your hand in his. He keeps you tucked against him, safe, and he lets you cry until you can’t anymore.

-----

If Marcus has learned anything in therapy, it’s this: he’s not always the main character of a moment. Sometimes he has to step back, content himself with the role of a supporting character.

Which is what he does now.

Old Marcus would have forced himself into your family’s inner circle, pushed his well-intentioned kindness onto you and everyone else. Which is why it was a tough thing to learn in therapy—because his intentions are always so well-meaning.

New and Improved Marcus thinks of himself as being on standby. Of waiting in the wings for his cue.

At the wake, for example: he stays off to the side with his parents, but he keeps an eye on you. When you seem to reach a point of…something, he pulls you out of the receiving line, takes you to the private room for family, and presses a glass of water onto you.

“You doing okay?” he asks, and you nod. You drink your water and hand him the empty cup, then fix him with a grateful look.

“Thank you, Marcus.”

At the luncheon, for example: he doesn’t get in the middle of it when you and your sister start to bicker. There’s old resentments there; she stayed in your hometown while you went away for college. There’s accusations of snobbery, of thinking you’re better than your family from her. From you, there’s accusations of martyrdom, of thinking your sister is the heir to the family matriarchy.

Old Marcus would have stepped in. New Marcus only goes to you when you and your sister part, exasperated with each other. He only waits for you to make the first move, and when you turn to him with a look of despair on your face, he hugs you, tells you that everyone is just spread thin and grieving, emotions roiling near the surface.

And at the graveside service: Marcus notices that your family is paired off. Your mother sits with your older brother, your sister is with her husband. Your other sister is paired off with her fiancée. Only you sit alone, your hands clasped in your lap, your head bowed.

Marcus doesn’t sit beside you. He hasn’t earned that right, but his heart breaks to see you alone, sealed off from any comfort.

He sits behind you, his chair right behind yours. He leans forward, puts his hand on your shoulder, and you startle, turn and see him.

“I’m here,” he says, his voice low, and you nod.

Then you unclasp your hands and reach one out to him. You reach back and he reaches forward, and he holds your hand tight while your father is laid to rest.

-----

Afterwards, the two of you go for a walk. You’re restless—relieved for the ceremony of burying someone to be over, but exhausted from the grieving…and dreading the grief to come.

“What can I do to help?” Marcus asks, and you shake your head.

“Just being here…it means more than you know.”

“It was the least I could do.”

You start to say something, then shake your head. You walk another few blocks in silence before you finally offer, “I’m sorry about how I left it with you. At the coffee shop. After the Jerzy painting.”

“Hey, no, don’t even—”

“I was mean about it,” you interrupt. “You were trying to tell me about Theresa—”

“And you didn’t need to hear it,” he cuts in. “You weren’t mean at all. You were standing up for yourself.”

“No, I—”

“Stop.” Marcus stills, and when you do too, he puts his hands on your shoulders and turns you to face him. “You gave me the kick in the ass that I needed. I stopped feeling sorry for myself. I started therapy.” He pauses, then adds, “I finally realized how badly I’ve treated you.”

“Marcus—”

“No.” He shakes his head, squeezes your upper arms. “You did a good thing that day.”

You look skeptical. “It doesn’t feel like it was good.”

He smooths his hands down your arms, then takes your hands in his. It makes his stomach flip: all the times he touched you in the past—the hugs and incidental touches—and it was never like this.

“I needed to hear it. I took you for granted for so long. You are…were my best friend, and I treated you terribly.” He pauses, sighs. “I’m sorry for never being there for you. For all the things you’ve done, amazing things, and I wasn’t there to celebrate you.”

You squeeze his hands and offer him a soft smile. “You’re here now. That counts for something.”

-----

Your father’s death and its aftermath…it’s the beginning of your reconciliation.

You return to your friendship, each of you different than you were before. You’re sadder, still grieving—but more willing to speak up, to not blindly follow him. He’s more self-aware, more deferential to your needs.

Back in D.C., you rekindle your friendship. You text each other; you get lunch together. You ease into it, but before long, the two of you are going to galleries together. Going for walks with his dog. Exploring the touristy stuff in D.C. that you both had missed before.

It’s the most miserable Marcus has ever been.

You loved him as a teenager and carried that love well into adulthood. It had been a precious gift he squandered as he chose women like Chloe, like Theresa. You had loved him, then mourned him, then moved onto a true friendship with him.

It’s a tragedy, then, to Marcus—how he falls in love with you far too late. How he only falls for you long after that bright light you carried for him has been extinguished and replaced by a chaste camaraderie.

And worse than being miserable, he’s trapped—because now that you’re friends again, he can’t go anywhere. He can’t ghost you, he can’t fade away. Every lunch, every text is the same: the same fluttery feeling in his stomach, his chest…then the sinking feeling, the sick-to-his-stomach feeling.

Now he finally knows what you had gone through, all those years before. Karma can be cruel in her neat simplicity, Marcus finds.

-----

Six months pass. A year. You return to Texas for the one year anniversary of your father’s death, and Marcus stays in D.C. He stops by your townhouse every day to feed your cat, bring in your mail.

Alone in your space, he allows himself to wallow a bit. Your home is so perfectly you: warm and cozy, neat. You have, unsurprisingly, an excellent eye for color, for lines, for the art you hang on your wall.

Marcus goes from room to room, checks the place out. The bedroom smells like you, the light coconut scent of the lotion you wear. The giant, ragged sweatshirt you wear around the house hangs over a chair, and he scoops it up, takes in the cozy scent of you.

It’s easy to pretend that this is his home too, that you’re only at work and will walk through the door at any moment. That you’ll make dinner together, eat together, swap stories about work. That maybe you’ll crash on the couch, put the T.V. on and he will rub your feet or you’ll pull his head into your lap, finger-comb through his curls.

He doesn’t even allow the fantasy to extend to the bedroom. He never lets it get that far. It’s difficult enough to even imagine the mundane, day-to-day intimacies. To imagine loving you like that, taking you to bed and being joined to you…then surfacing to his sad reality…it’d be too much. It’d break his heart entirely.

-----

Marcus knows you go on dates. You mention them obliquely sometimes; you pass on plans with him because you have “a thing” or are “meeting up” with someone. You never say the word “date,” and he wonders if you can guess his feelings for you and are trying to spare him the pain of knowing you’re going out with other men.

He goes a single date. It’s a friend of a coworker, and she’s lovely and funny…but the date goes miserably. Marcus can’t summon up his usual charm. He can’t stop thinking of you, in your townhouse with your cat, curled up on your couch. Probably reading, in your pajamas and your ragged, oversized sweatshirt, bare feet tucked underneath you—

Marcus is as miserable as he’s ever been.

-----

He’s trapped. He has no idea what to do other than suffer as he has been.

It’s a sweetly torturous suffering, because he has you back in his life. His oldest, dearest, best friend. The girl who sat beside him in art class, who grew up to be a woman who makes him laugh, who bolsters his flagging spirits. Who gives him a soft place to rest when he’s tired or heart-sore. Who cooks her signature buffalo chicken mac and cheese when he needs a comfort meal. Who sketches ridiculous little caricatures of him and tucks them into his coat pockets, the glove compartment of his car to find days or weeks later.

-----

He resigns himself to a lifetime of this: of being your friend, of never having you completely.

Isn’t friendship better than nothing? Isn’t a half-life better than none? Aren’t washed-out watercolors better than no color at all?

He settles into the sweet pain of this life, and he succeeds for months. The pain becomes familiar and loses its sting. He learns to live with it.

But ultimately, he fails. Of course he does. The heart wants what it wants, and Marcus wants nothing so much as he wants you.

-----

It happens that you both spend the holidays in D.C. It is unplanned, but his unit is shorthanded and he can’t spare the time to go home to Texas. You have a project you’re working on and can’t leave either and besides—the coolness between your sister and you remains, and you don’t feel especially welcome in her home for the holidays.

“We should do our own thing,” you suggest, and of course he agrees. There’s no plausible reason why you shouldn’t—hell, even his dog and your cat get along, curling up together after chasing each other when he brings Rothko over.

You plan a sleepover on Christmas Eve. Marcus packs an overnight bag, brings Rothko. It’s so similar to those nights when he was getting over his divorce and you were working through your thesis. He slept over a lot back then, slept on your couch and woke up to you making him breakfast.

For Christmas Eve, the two of you keep it simple, homey. You make a big pot of spaghetti, split a bottle of red wine for dinner. After dinner, Marcus does the dishes and you mix a pitcher of tequila sunrises. Then the two of you retire to the living room to watch old movies together by the light of your Christmas tree.

Marcus can blame any number of things. There’s the atmosphere—dark except for the colorful lights of your tree and the light of the television. The room is warm, and he’s in comfortable clothes. You’re in your pajamas (and old sweatshirt), curled up on the opposite end of the couch from him.

There’s the movies themselves. You both love old movies, the old black and white screwball comedies and romances and thrillers. Hitchcock mysteries. Cary Grant, Katherine Hepburn, Bette Davis, Jimmy Stewart.

There’s also your pitcher of drinks. You always pour with a heavy hand, and when added to the wine from dinner, Marcus finds himself well on his way to being drunk without even meaning to.

But the evening is a perfect representation of his deal with you now: close, but so far. You’re within arm’s reach, and yet you may as well be miles away.

He gets through most of “Sabrina.” He watches Audrey Hepburn fall for William Holden, then Humphrey Bogart, watches Bogart fall for Hepburn and think himself too old, unworthy. Getting more and more drunk, Marcus makes it all the way to near the end, when Bogart tells Hepburn to suppose he was younger, suppose he was his brother, suppose he had the courage to ask her to join him in Paris—

He doesn’t even realize he’s crying until you look over at him in alarm.

“Marcus, what—” You untuck your legs from under you and shift to kneel by him, your hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

He can’t look at you. He’s ashamed and depressed, and a year’s worth of misery and desire come spilling out in equal measure.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he says, and he tries to keep his voice level but he knows he sounds hysterical, a man standing at the edge. He knows he sounds drunk too, slurring his words just enough to be noticeable.

“Can’t do what?”

“This. Us. I l-love you, and I fucked it all up, and I thought…thought I could just go back to being friends again, but I f-fucked it up so bad and if I hadn’t been so fucking s-stupid, we’d already be m-married. I would have married you, not Chloe, not wasted time with Theresa, and now I’m miserable all the fucking time—”

“Jesus,” you breathe out, but you put your hands on his face, cup his cheeks and steer his face to look at you.

“Marcus, you’ve been miserable?” you ask, and your voice sounds so sorrowful, your eyes look so sad that his own eyes fill with tears again.

“You’re my dearest friend,” he tells you. He hooks his hands on your wrists, and he can just feel your pulse under his thumb, fast and solid. “You…you mean more to me than anyone. I’m just…I’m just sad. That I messed it up and can’t f-fix it.”

“Oh.” You gaze at him; you brush your thumbs softly against his cheekbones. “Marcus, I never went anywhere.”

“Huh?”

“I’m right here.” You sigh, then shift one hand to stroke through his hair, finger combing through his curls just as he imagined. “You’re pretty drunk, aren’t you?”

He grumbles, “you use too much tequila.”

He’s too drunk to understand the look on your face. He’s too deep in his feelings, too far gone in his fear of losing you. You sigh again, then take your hands from him.

“How about I get you a glass of water, and then we can start a new movie, okay? And maybe we can pick up this conversation once you’re feeling more like yourself.”

-----

You switch off “Sabrina” and put on “Blazing Saddles,” and as Marcus rapidly sobers up, he works out how he’s going to escape this horrifying, mortifying evening.

He’s FBI. He could, say, throw himself out of your living room window to escape. Do a neat roll on your front lawn, then spring to his feet, take off running for shelter. He’d have to leave Rothko behind but after his humiliating admission, it’s every man and dog for themselves.

The reality is more mundane. He sits forward on the couch, his hands on his knees, and he mutters that he should get going.

“You aren’t staying?” You sound surprised, and a little hurt too.

He can’t even look you in the eye. He stares forward, off to the side, at your tree. “I don’t think I can stay.”

“If you…if you only said those things because you were drunk, we can just forget it, okay? Nothing has to change.” Your voice wobbles on the last word, and he glances back at you to see your eyes wide, shiny with tears.

Well, shit. Now he’s made you cry. Again. Who knows how many times you’ve cried over him in the course of your life, and here he is again…making you cry on Christmas Eve.

“I meant those things,” he say solemnly. “Of course I meant them.”

“And you think I don’t feel the same way?”

He raises his hand, drops it in a gesture of helplessness. “Why would you?”

“Oh, Marcus.” You reach out, take his hand in yours. “Do you really think I just stopped loving you after that day in the coffee shop? Really?”

He snorts, shakes his head. Bitter. “I would have.”

“Well, I’m not you, then.” A long pause, and he chances to look at you—you’re gazing back at him with the same big doe eyes, shiny with tears.

“I never stopped, Marcus Pike. I don’t think I could if I wanted to. Even when I hated you, even when I very much disliked you, I still loved you. Still love you.”

What other choice does he have? He leans forward and kisses you: the girl who sat beside him in art class who became his dearest, oldest friend who became the love of his life.

#marcus pike #marcus pike imagine #marcus pike x reader #the mentalist #tropes-and-tales

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absurdthirst · 5 months

Text

Cellblock Tango {Marcus Pike x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 20.6k

Warnings: Mentions of drinking, hangovers, drunk tank, flirting, mismatched power dynamics, jail cell sex, rough sex, fingering, hand cuffs, derogatory language, role play, unprotected sex, miscommunication, Dad Marcus deserves his own warning, father/son bonding, there was only one hotel room, break ups, angst, confessions, oral sex (female receiving), love making, mentions of future children.

Comments: One little interlude leads to a surprising discovery eleven years later, Marcus Pike has a son. You are the woman he fucked in a jail cell when he was a cop and now, you're the mother of his child.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Marcus Pike MasterList ||

“Pike.” Marcus answers his phone as he tries to finish this report and he half listens until he hears the words “art stolen” and then he’s listening to the call and he nods, stopping typing. “I’ll be right there.” He promises and hangs up, grabbing his jacket.

He is quick to drive over to the gallery and he flashes his badge when the police ask who he is. He ducks under the tape and makes his way into the gallery where glass is shattered on the floor and several employees are clearly shaken. “Hi, I’m Marcus Pike, FBI.” He introduces himself, “who’s the curator?” He asks and you step forward.

“It’s nice to see you again, Agent Pike.” You smile and Marcus frowns, trying to place your face until it hits him.

**Eleven Years Ago**

“Let me outtt.” You whine, slapping the bars of the cell you’re in, your head aching and you look at the officer on duty sitting at his desk.

“You can’t come out until you sober up.” He says and you squint as you look at his badge.

“I’m sober…ish.” You bite your lip and he shakes his head, “drunk and disorderly behavior…not great for your record.” He says and you scoff, “I’m a senior in college. Art history. I am graduating this weekend. I- I just wanted to celebrate.” You whine, resting your head on the cool bars and you aren’t sure how long you’ve been in this cell.

Marcus shakes his head and has to admit that you look cute for a criminal. You won’t be charged, you aren’t even booked in right now, taking mercy on you, although he hopes that you understand that you need to curb bad habits before it does get you into trouble. “You’ll be there until you can tell me your telephone number backwards.” He tells you with a grin, looking up from his paperwork. Marcus is known as a by-the-book cop and even though he’s still green, he’s going places. His application to the FBI should be accepted any day and he wants to make an impact on the world and community.

You whine, slumping down on the bench in the cell and soon enough, you’re falling asleep. You wake up a couple of hours later with a headache and Marcus hands you a cup of water and some aspirin. “Here.” He says and you open the bottle, taking a couple and downing the water. He refills it for you and you sigh, feeling sober and worse for wear.

“Got any good hangover tips?” You ask the cop who chuckles and you finally notice how handsome he is. His brown eyes are tired looking as he nears the end of his shift and you tilt your head against the wall.

“Nothing that would be appropriate for a jail cell.” He jokes, happy that you seem to be sober now. You had been a little rough there for awhile and it seems like though you have a hangover, you’ve learned your lesson.

“I guess pancakes and bacon is a no go in a cell.” You chuckle and look over as Marcus stands up. “You got any mints?” You ask and Marcus nods, reaching into his desk drawer and he hands you the box of altoids. You chew a few and sigh, “thanks.” Handing him back the tin, your fingers brush and you notice again how handsome he is. “I bet you’re ready to head home to your partner after dealing with drunk me tonight?” You ask with a smirk, knowing you were a handful.

Marcus snorts and shakes his head. “No partner.” He admits, shrugging sadly. “Ex-wife didn’t want to be a LEO wife.” It had stung but he understood it. He would rather end it amicably than turn nasty after kids. “And you were pretty cute drunk.” He admits with a grin.

You giggle, loving how kind he’s been despite being locked up. “At least I have that going for me.” You wink at him and he leans against the bars. “Your ex wife is an idiot to have let you go. You’re handsome and funny and you have a good job.” You flirt, leaning towards the bars. “I’d wait for you allll night baby.”

“Yeah?” Marcus smirks, enjoying the banter even though you’re probably just trying to get out of being charged. He had no intention of charging you, but it’s a harmless little indulgence. “I think you’re just hoping I’d use my handcuffs on you.”

“Ooo don’t tempt me with a good time, officer.” You wink, “I like a man who knows how to take control.” You reveal with a smirk and you playfully hold your hands up. “Arrest me again, officer.”

He chuckles and your stomach twists, “for what crimes?” He teases and you grin, “for lusting after a man in uniform.”

There is nothing that Marcus finds sexier than a confident woman and you are not simply flirting with him because you are behind bars. Or if you are, it’s because you find it sexy. The spark of desire in your eyes makes him bolder, pushing off the edge of his desk to come and prop against the bars with a smirk on his face. “Yeah?” He asks, lifting a brow. “What would you do then? Fight me?” He asks. “Or what would you let me do? Right there in the cell?” He’s dangerously close to inappropriate behavior but he doesn’t think that you mind it.

You look up at him from under your lashes, wrists still outstretched when you say “anything you want.” You promise and he inhales sharply, “I wouldn’t fight you. I’d fuck you. I’ve been a bad girl, officer, and I need some punishment.” You pout playfully and lower your hands, lifting your dress a little higher to expose your panties.

“Jesus Christ.” Marcus’ eyes widen in surprise. “Are you serious?” He asks, looking around and then back at you. “You really want that?”

You nod, feeling bold at the look in his eyes and you reach through the bars to play with his badge. “Officer Pike. Do you want to fuck me?” You ask, licking your lips.

“Yes, I do.” His cock twitches and starts to harden in his uniform and he reaches for the cell keys. “Are you sure?” He asks. “You can say no at any time.” He reassures you. “I- don’t want you to feel like this is to get out of being charged. You’re being released no matter what.”

You nod in understanding, watching him open the door, and you watch him stride in. “I know. I - I don’t usually do this but you’re - you’re so sexy. I want you.” You confess. You’ve been sensible your entire life. Focusing on getting your degree, you didn’t even go out for drinks most weekends and tonight, you want to celebrate. The officer steps closer to you and you reach out to take his hands, bringing them to your waist.

“Shit. I don’t either.” Marcus confesses, squeezing your waist and then he is whipping one hand behind his back as he twists you around. “Hands behind your back.” He growls, a thread of authority in his voice. “I’m going to cuff you.”

You gasp when you feel the cold metal encircle your wrists and your cunt clenches at the way he manhandles you. “I’m sorry, officer. I didn’t mean to be bad.” You play along, arching your back so you can grind against him and you’re pleased to feel how hard he is.

“Should have thought about that before you broke the law.” He grunts, twitching against your ass. “Gonna have to teach you a lesson you’ll never forget.” He never thought he would be a man who enjoyed roleplay, but he is very eager to see how you react.

He bends you over the bench in the cell and tugs your dress up over your hips, making you whimper and your nails dig into your palms. “I’m sorry, officer.” You gasp when his hand comes down on your ass after he sits down beside you, one hand gripping your cuffed wrists, the other slapping your ass hard enough to make you cry out in both pleasure and pain.

It’s a good damn thing that there’s no one else in the entire building at this hour. You are loud and he loves it. “Fuck. You like this, don’t you? You little slut.” He stops and strokes your ass gently. “Was that okay?” He asks, realizing you could take offense and wanting to check in.

You love that he’s asking you if it’s okay, breaking the roleplay, and you know he’s so sweet but also so dirty to be doing this. “It’s perfect. I’ll tell you if I don’t like something.” You promise and he nods, rubbing your ass before he brings his hand down again. “I love it.” You moan, “I love it, officer.”

Marcus groans and he slaps your ass again before he slides his hand down your hip and drags your panties down. “Let’s see how much you love it.” He growls, his fingers seeking your cunt and loving how wet he finds you.

You moan loud when he finds your cunt, sliding his fingers through your folds until he is rubbing your clit. “Oh shit.” You pant, arms starting to ache but you don’t care. You want this, you want him. It’s cleared your head and you know you are no longer drunk on booze but rather drunk on his touch. “Yes. Yes. Fuck, that’s - I need more.” You beg greedily.

Marcus pulls his fingers away and he lets go of your arms so you collapse onto the bunk. Unzipping his uniform pants and pulling his cock out, he spits in his hand and pumps himself. “I’m clean.” He promises you. “Are you…on birth control?”

You nod, “I’m clean and on the pill.” You promise and he shifts to kneel on the bunk, straddling your thighs as he pumps his cock a couple of times. “Jesus.” He hisses as he lines up and starts to push inside of you. You whine and clench your fists, enjoying the stretch of him.

You’re so fucking tight he feels like he’s going to bust. Granted, it’s been awhile for him, but he’s clenching his jaw and enjoying the way you squeeze him. “Goddamn.” He grunts when his hips are flush against your ass.

You can’t open your eyes, mouth open in a silent cry as he stretches you and you are certain you are dreaming, this has to be a wet dream. When he starts to move, you moan out and try to spread your legs a little wider but he keeps you pinned down. “Fuck baby. Yes!” You finally cry out when his hips press against your ass with each thrust.

It’s probably the roughest, kinkiest sex Marcus has had in forever and he’s into it. Holding onto your cuffed wrists, he covers you, driving into you with increasingly rougher thrusts. “Think you can spread your legs and get out of trouble?” He growls in your ear. “Your tight little cunt your get out of jail free card?” He demands. “Whoring yourself out? I should book you, keep you here to fuck.”

Your eyes roll into the back of your head, his words making you gush around him and he sets a harsh pace, “do it. Keep me - I - fuck. If you fuck me like this every day, I’m yours.” You moan, enjoying the way he pushes deep and his deep voice. It makes you shiver under him.

Marcus hisses when you clench around him and the keys on his belt around his hips jangle as he fucks into you. It’s a damn good thing he’s going home after this because you are soaking the front of his uniform. “You are mine.” He huffs, biting his lip and watching as his cock plows into your cunt. “Fuck, this is so hot.”

You moan your agreement, your voice echoing in the empty cell and his keys jangle a little faster as your nails dig into your palms. “Fuckkk. I’m gonna - you’re gonna make me cum.” You whimper at the way he angles your hips and you cry out as you cum, clamping down on his cock.

Marcus moans, fucking you harder as you soak him with your cum. Desperate and unmeasured thrusts as he starts to feel his own orgasm building. “Shit- shit,” he whines. “So tight, you’re so fucking tight, baby.” He let’s go of your wrists to hold onto your hips and changes the angle to fuck down into you for the last half dozen thrusts before he’s grinding deep and painting your walls with his seed.

You pant, loving how he feels when he cums inside of you, and you close your eyes, savoring the feel of him inside of you. “Fuck that’s good, officer. Oh God.” You wish you could reach back and touch him. “That was so good.” You sigh and he hums in agreement as his forehead rests on your back. “Are you going to - are you going to let me go?” You ask playfully, eyes still closed as you smile.

"I shouldn't." Marcus plays along, his hand running soothingly up your spine as he catches his breath. He kisses your back and then sits up. "But I think I have to, with something this good." He chuckles, pulling out of you gently and admiring the way your cunt spasms and starts to push his cum out. He tucks himself away and pulls your panties up respectfully before he reaches for his keys. "No regrets?" He asks softly as he uncuffs you.

You let him uncuff you and you sit up, looking at him. “Baby, I couldn’t regret it.” You tell him with a wink, and you cup his cheek. “Thank you. Am I - on a serious note…am I being charged?” You ask timidly and lower your hand from his cheek.

“No.” He smiles, even though he is serious. “I had told you last night you were just being held until you could tell me your phone number backwards.” He chuckles. “You whined it out right before you fell asleep.” He hums. “So I can throw it away, or maybe… I can call you after my work week and maybe take you out on a date? Unless you want to get picked up again for drunken disorderly?” He teases.

You fluster, nodding at him, “I, uh, I would like to see you again…showered and completely sober. Not that I’m not sober but you know what I mean…not - not recently arrested.” You chuckle and he smiles softly, his brown eyes sweet and soft, albeit tired. “I’d love to go on a date with you.” You promise and he blushes a little, making you grin.

“Well then, I’ll call you.” He promises, reaching up and stroking your cheek gently. “Tonight was fun, but I know you want to get home and shower and I’m about to get off to go home and crash.” He admits. “Make sure to hydrate today, okay?”

You nod, squeezing his hand when he lowers it from your cheek. “I’ll see you soon, officer.” You wink playfully and he nods at you. You are soon reunited with your things and call a taxi to take you home. You collapse on the bed as soon as you get home and fall asleep, the exhaustion getting to you. You’ll wait for the officer to call and you dream of brown eyes and handcuffs.

**Present Day**

Marcus squeezes your hand and his face flushes hotly, remembering every moment of his time with you. Your name comes off his lips quietly and he wishes that you were meeting under less public circumstances. “It’s good to see you again. It’s been a long time.” He segways lamely. “I tried to call you.” He blurts out. “The number you gave me was wrong. And I finally figured out what the real number was about a year later. By then I figured you had forgotten about Officer Pike.”

You stare at him in shock, unable to believe that you are seeing him right now. You clear your throat, glancing around to his colleagues and yours and you offer him a soft smile, “don’t - it’s okay. I understand. I just figured you changed your mind.” You shrug like it’s no big deal and he frowns but you stop him before he can respond, “do you want me to show you where the piece was that got stolen?”

Marcus snaps back into a more professional mode and nods seriously, reaching into his suit jacket pocket to retrieve a notebook and a pen. He likes to jot down his first impression of the scene while he’s there. “When did you notice the piece was missing?” He’s aware that you gave your statement to the local police but he wants to hear it straight from you. Unable to believe that the drunk tank encounter eleven years ago had turned into his victim on his latest case.

“This morning. I came into work as I always do at 8:40. I walked around to check everything was clean and in place and then of course I saw this piece was missing. I checked the security cameras but it’s been interfered with as it’s all fuzzy. I called the police right away, didn’t touch anything else, and they sent you over.” You tell him as you walk towards the area of the missing artwork, trying to conceal the way your hands shake from seeing him again after all these years.

Marcus nods, jotting down notes and he looks over the scene carefully. “When did the museum close last night? Are there any night shift personnel that clean or maybe a guard?” He wants to make sure that he does everything right and he can’t help but be a little flustered by you. He looks over at you and sees you shaking. “It’s okay.” He shoves the pen and the notebook into one hand and pats your shoulder soothingly. “I know that being robbed is a terrible violation but we are going to do our best to recover your painting.”

“There’s a night guard but he was sick and - he admitted to me he fell asleep for a couple of hours during his shift.” He mistakes your shaking for fear and you play into it, nodding and smiling in appreciation of him helping you with this situation. He’s the last person you ever imagined would be helping you find the art, especially after he never called and you had no way of getting hold of him. “Thank you.” You smile and he continues to assess the crime scene. Forensics comes in and you spend your work day with Marcus and his team working on finding the missing painting.

Marcus is delighted to find that the younger woman he had a brief liaison with has become a smart and capable woman. You are thoroughly knowledgeable about the museum you run and the staff. Even the maintenance schedules are quickly located and accounted for. You seemingly run a tight ship. “Okay. Have there been any visitors who have been unusually interested in the security? Asking questions pointed around the room that the painting was in?” He asks, wondering if there’s another possible angle to this.

You bite your lip, pondering the question before you turn towards Jenny, the new receptionist. “Didn’t you say we had a man come in and he was asking several questions about different pieces and you thought it was weird because he kept looking at the cameras?” You ask and Jenny nods. Marcus asks her to describe him and Jenny tries her best. While Marcus is writing down her description, you admire his profile, the way he’s matured into a handsome man and you remember the way he fucked you.

“If possible, can we see if the camera footage is still available from the days he visited?” A photo of the suspect is worth more than a description, but he hopes that the entire hard drive hasn’t been compromised. He looks up at you. “Do you know how far back the data has been corrupted?”

You nod, “about seven days. It’s spotty in the past 36 hours but it’s solid up until then. I’m not sure if they used some kind of tech to fuzz the cameras but it’s spotty at best.” You explain and look over at Jenny, “can you show office- Agent Pike to the security room?”

Marcus catches the slip up and his cock twitches, but he ignores it. He can’t go there with you. He’s in a relationship. Instead, he smiles and nods, thanking you quietly and following Jenny to the office so he can watch the videos with her to the approximate time the suspect was there.

You watch Marcus leave with Jenny and you check your watch, biting your lip. It’s getting close to four and you glance at your phone, wondering if you should call. No…Marcus will be gone by then. You keep glancing at your watch and finally Marcus appears, notebook in hand just as the door to the gallery opens. “Mom! Mom! Guess what happened? I made the team!” Theo announces as he runs into the gallery and over to you, your mom behind him carrying his backpack.

Halfway between the door to the security office and you, Marcus freezes. His eyes widen and he feels like he’s been kicked in the chest and he swears his heart stops. The boy, he’s guessing around ten years old, looks like he could be a copy of Marcus when he was a boy. Skin tone is different and there are small features that are a unique blend of your features, but he looks like him. There is absolutely no way that this child, this boy, isn’t his. His mouth drops open and he nearly chokes on his own breath.

You ignore Marcus, avoiding his eyes as you look down at your son. “Really? That’s amazing, baby.” You hug him, kissing his hair. He’d been so excited to try out for the baseball team and now he’s on it. You know it’s gonna be a lot of work to take him to practices and games but you don’t care, you want him to be happy. Your mom looks over at Marcus and back at you, her eyes wide. She sees the resemblance immediately and you told her about Marcus when you found out you were pregnant.

He can’t move, trying to process what the hell possibly happened and he’s immediately flooded with intense guilt. He had gotten you pregnant. He had gotten you pregnant and he didn’t call you. You didn’t have any way to get into contact with him and you had been a single mother for ten years. He knew you weren’t married, or at least he thought you weren’t. There’s not a ring on your finger, but you might have a boyfriend. He watches the boy, his son, closely. Absorbing every detail of his mannerisms and excitement as he talks about his obvious passion - baseball. The same sport Marcus had played in school.

You glance at Marcus finally, seeing his eyes, and you know he has figured it out. You swallow harshly and look at your mom who has questioning eyes. “Can you take Theo for a snack, mama?” You ask your mom who nods.

“You wanna go to the place on the corner for a snack, honey?” She asks Theo who nods, “can we, mom?” He asks and you smile, ruffling his hair, “of course.” Your mom takes him outside and you inhale deeply, turning to face Marcus. “We need to talk.” You tell him, “you wanna come sit in my office?”

He nods, not even able to put anything into words and follows you to the back. Your office is across from the security office and is neat. It’s obviously filled with personal touches. There’s a picture that is obviously from last Christmas of the two of you. Theo beaming as he holds a new baseball glove and bat. “I- does he- what’s his name?” He asks, once the door is closed. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

You can see he’s struggling but you’re hurt too. He didn’t call and when you found out you were pregnant, you were newly graduated and alone. Your mom helped, letting you move in with her and it’s been hard to get your career where you dreamed it would be all those years ago. “His name is Theo Lucas. He has my last name…obviously. It’s - you didn’t call and I thought that you - that you just asked me out to save face for a quickie in a jail cell.” You cross your arms and turn towards the closed door, “he’s - he’s the best thing that ever happened to me so I guess I should thank you for that night.”

“I want to meet him. Officially.” Marcus clarifies. “I didn’t know that he was - that you were pregnant. If I had I would have helped you, supported you, been there for both of you. “Please?”

You bite your lip, watching him with hesitation. What’s to say he won’t just take off again after Theo has gotten attached. You’re not sure if it’s sensible or really the actual reason why but the words “of course” escape your mouth before you can think about his. His answering soft smile makes your heart ache a little and you clear your throat. “I’ll give you my cell phone, proper numbers this time as we can talk.”

Marcus chuckles and reaches into his jacket pocket to pull out his badge folder. Pulling a card with his information on it and handing it to you. “This way the ball is in your court.” He offers. “Theo likes baseball?” He asks. “I used to play in high school and college when I wasn’t playing with my band.” He tells you. “Maybe I can practice with him or take him to a game? I planned on seeing the Rangers play this weekend.”

You bite your lip, looking down at his card. “I bet he’d love that.” You smile at Marcus and are terrified but excited for your son to meet his father finally. You’ve imagined it so many times and he has asked about his dad. You tried to explain it as simply as you can to a young child and you told him you and his dad had a brief relationship. It sounded better than what the reality is. “It’s good to see you again, Marcus.” You say just as his phone rings.

“Shit.” He jolts and reaches for his phone, glancing down at it and then giving you an apologetic look. “Hey.” He answers, a smile on his face when he speaks. “Are you finishing up for the day?” He asks, “I’m still working on a case.” Listening for a few moments he hums. “I’ll meet you there, okay. Sounds good. Bye.”

You see the look on his face and you know it’s his romantic partner. The look in his eyes is soft and sweet and it makes your heart twist even though he’s not yours, he never was. You just had one night. You wait for him to finish and he smiles at you after he shoves his phone back in his pocket. “Sorry about that.” He says and you shake your head, “it’s fine.” He clears his throat, “so I’ll see you soon. For the case and for Theo. I will wait for your call.” He promises and you nod, twisting the card in your hand.

“I’ll see you soon, Marcus.” You promise and he gathers his things, bidding you goodbye and you sit down at your desk and close your eyes, hating how your heart twists at seeing him again.

Marcus makes his way out of the museum and when he gets into the car, he just sits for a moment. Absorbing the life changing information that he is a father. He wants to jump in and help and support you in any and every way he can. Feeling guilty for not knowing about Theo sooner. He knows he has to tell Teresa as soon as possible. Tonight at dinner. She will understand.

****

“You met my dad?” Theo asks when you discuss it at dinner.

“Yes baby. He’s - he - we lost touch and now he’s back. I got his number. He wants to meet you. He loves baseball too and said about taking you to a game. I- I know it’s a lot to take in but he wants to get to know you.” You tell Theo who frowns, looking down at his plate.

“Why now?” Theo asks and you clear your throat, “I told you…we lost touch.” You explain and Theo shakes his head, “he didn’t want me?” He asks and you reach for his hand.

“No. No. Not that. It’s complicated. Adult stuff you won’t understand.” You try again but Theo is pushing his chair back and rushing to his room, “you didn’t want me to know him!” He yells and slams the door, making you close your eyes and rub your head.

****

“I have something I need to tell you.” Marcus gazes at Teresa nervously over the votive in the middle of the romantic table at their favorite restaurant. He’s already had two glasses of wine because he’s excited and nervous. Reaching out, he takes her hand. “Eleven years ago, I had a….fling.” He isn’t going to give all the specifics, but Teresa deserves to know. “It was right before the FBI academy and somehow, the phone number I was given was bad, so it didn’t go beyond the one encounter.”

Teresa tilts her head and laughs. “Marcus, I don’t need to know about every person you slept with. We both have a history.” She assures him.

Marcus shakes his head. “No, I ran into her today. And….” He takes a deep breath. “I have a son. He’s just like me. I saw him and I-“ he shrugs. “I’m going to get to know him, become a part of his life.”

Teresa stares at Marcus in shock, looking down at their hands, and she swallows harshly. “How - you - um, that’s - wow.” She finishes lamely, still in shock. “That’s great, Marcus. Truly. That’s - I can’t wait to meet him.” She says, a little through her teeth but Marcus doesn’t notice as he beams, squeezing her hand.

****

You call Marcus the next day due to Theo constantly asking you when he’s going to meet his dad. “Are you free this evening?” You ask and Marcus holds the phone in his hand, “of course. I’m free.”

You smile, “great. You want to come over for dinner? Theo is excited to meet you. I told him we had a fling and tried to explain it as much as I could without getting into details.”

Marcus hums in agreement, “he doesn’t need to know the details, I don’t think a child would understand that yet.” He will follow your lead on Theo since you have been the one raising him. “Does he have a particular favorite baseball team?” Marcus asks. “I don’t want to come empty handed the first time I meet my son.”

You smile against the phone at how sweet he is. You remember that from that night, how funny and sweet he was even when he was wrecking you with his cock. “He loves the Nationals. My dad…he lives in D.C and has gotten Theo into his team, so yeah, Nationals.” You answer and Marcus hums, “Nationals, got it.”

You nod even though he can’t see it, “so I’ll see you at 6?” You ask and he confirms. “Great. I’ll text you my address.” You say and bid him goodbye, hanging up the phone to quickly shoot him a text. You’re nervous and you know Theo is nervous, unsure of going to school today but you took him and he was fine once he settled in. You’ve got the day at work to figure out what to cook for the first time your one night stand meets his son.

During lunch, Marcus runs out to a sporting goods store to pick up Nationals gear for a ten year old. Then back to his apartment to pick up his own glove and some balls. If you’ve got a yard, he wants to get out there and throw the ball with Theo if he’s up for it. Your text comes through with the address and by 5, he’s leaving the office and plugging in the GPS to go to your house.

You smile as Theo rushes up to the front door when Marcus rings the doorbell. “I’ll get the door, sweetie.” You say, rubbing his shoulder and he’s practically buzzing as he watches you open the door. You send a silent prayer that this is gonna go well and you come face to face with Marcus, standing there holding a big duffel bag. “Come in.” You gesture and he steps in, clearly nervous, and his dark eyes find Theo. “Sweetheart, this is - this is Marcus. He’s your dad.” You introduce him officially and Theo looks at Marcus with wide eyes.

Marcus sets the bag down and kneels down so he can look his son in the eyes. The same shade of brown as his own. “Hello, Theo.” He offers quietly, beaming and trying not to cry. “It is so good to meet you. I brought my glove. If it's okay with your mom, after dinner we can throw the ball around?” He asks, glancing up at you for permission before looking back at him to see if that’s something he wants to do.

Theo beams, staring at his father, and he nods enthusiastically. “Yes! Mom - can we - can we go outside?” He asks you and you nod, “of course you can.” Theo surges forward to wrap his arms around his father, “hi dad.” He says into his father’s neck as he grips him tight, excited to have him there.

His eyes close and his arms wrap around Theo tight, holding his son against him. “Hey, buddy.” He chokes out, opening his eyes and looking up at you. He’s overwhelmed and emotional and it’s almost a relief that you are silently crying. He’s not being too much with his reaction to meeting the son he didn’t know about.

You wipe your eyes, seeing the unshed tears shining in Marcus’s eyes and you know in that moment that you haven’t made a mistake. You know Theo is going to have his father in his life finally. “Come on you two. Dinner will be ready soon. Marcus, what do you want to drink?” You ask after clearing your throat.

“Anything would be great, thanks.” He squeezes Theo once more before he pulls away to grin at him. “I brought you some presents. Although I know I have a lot of missed birthdays and Christmas’ to make up for.”

Theo grins, “lots. Ten years worth.” He says and you chuckle, “dad is here now and he brought you some presents. You wanna open them while I finish up dinner?” You ask Theo who nods and grabs Marcus’s hand to practically drag him into the kitchen.

“Come on dad, I wanna open my presents.”

It’s surreal to hear someone calling him dad and it makes him break out into a wide grin. He had managed to grab the duffel bag and he sets it on the table to open up and start pulling out gifts. He had thought he had gone overboard, but he doesn’t believe that now, the way Theo’s eyes are widening and he’s practically bouncing with excitement.

You get Marcus a beer and a glass of wine for yourself then set them down after getting a glass of milk for Theo. “Wow! I always wanted one of these!” Theo gasps when he sees the Nationals jersey and you feel a little guilty that you didn’t get the right one that he wanted. You got the Rangers and he was happy, but it’s not his favorite team.

“I’m glad. Your mom told me that you’re a big Nationals fan.” Marcus chatters nervously. “Now I have tickets to the Ranger’s game this weekend, would you want to go? Even if it’s not the Nationals? Since we are here in Texas?” It’s a commute to Ranger stadium and he would buy you a ticket if you preferred to come too, but he wants to give Theo that experience together.

You watch Theo bounce, nodding his head, “yes yes yes. Oh can I go mom? Can I?” He asks you and you nod, “of course baby. You can go.” You won’t deny him this time with his father and you know Marcus is a good man. He works for the FBI for goodness sake. “I’ll go get dinner. Sit down, both of you.” You order playfully.

“We better listen to your mom.” Marcus grins, happy that his son wants to go to a game with him. He reaches up and ruffles the boy's hair. “Let’s go wash our hands, gotta be clean to eat.”

You watch Marcus take Theo to wash his hands and you smile to yourself as you plate up the spaghetti and meatballs. The boys sit down at the table and you set the plates down in front of them. “I hope you like it. I didn’t ask if you were vegetarian. Oh shit. Are you? If not, I can make something else.” You start to panic a little, realizing how little you know about Marcus.

“No.” He smiles up at your reassuringly. “I love spaghetti and meatballs.” He looks over at Theo. “And I’m sure your mom’s is great, isn’t it, Buddy?” He asks.

“Oh yeah! Mom’s spaghetti is the best!” Theo cries out with a grin. “She puts extra cheese on top for me.”

You smile, loving that your son loves your cooking. You look at Marcus, “I put extra cheese on yours too.” You wink at him and watch Theo as he starts to dig into his food, hungry as always, “why don’t you tell your dad about school today?” You ask Theo, wanting Marcus to be involved in the small things like hearing Theo talk about his day.

Marcus listens intently, nodding while Theo tells him every little thing about his day. Grinning to himself when the boy would go off on a little tangent like he used to as he shovels in his food with the enthusiasm of a growing boy.

You finish eating while Theo talks about his school and his friends. You watch Marcus hang onto every word, nodding and responding like it’s the best thing he’s ever heard and that makes your heart thump. “Everyone done?” You ask and Theo nods, “thank you, mom.” He stands up to collect the dishes but you stop him. “Not tonight, honey. Sit with your dad. I’ll clean up.” You tell him as you gather the plates, “I have dessert too. You want ice cream?” You ask and Theo nods, eyes lighting up.

“Must be a special night.” Marcus muses. “Dessert too?” He grins when Theo bobbles his head so hard he might rattle some teeth around. “After we eat dessert, you wanna throw the ball?”

Theo thinks that Christmas has come as he nods and Marcus chuckles, “sure thing, bud.” You smile as you load up the dishwasher and listen to Marcus and Theo talk. “So why did you not stay with my mom?” Theo asks, always inquisitive and you wince slightly but leave it to Marcus to provide his own explanation.

Glancing up at you for permission, he knows he needs to tell his son why the two of you aren’t together. Why he’s never met him before. “I- it’s complicated.” Marcus winces, knowing that isn’t the best answer. “Your mom was wonderful. And I had plans to take her on a date, to spend more time with her, but I messed up.” Marcus stresses. He will take the blame, of course he will. “I wrote her number down wrong, and couldn’t call her. And I didn’t know where she lived.”

Theo stares at Marcus for a moment, absorbing his answer until eventually he nods and looks over at you. “Well, you’re dumb because my mom is amazing.” Your heart clenches and tears sting in your eyes at the compliment from your son and you look at Marcus with an apologetic smile.

“I know I am.” Marcus accepts that rebuke and nods in agreement. “Your mom is amazing and I have to thank her because she gave me a son.” He reaches over and pats your hand. “Thank you. For taking care of him while I wasn’t around and being amazing enough for him to defend you.”

You smile at Marcus and lean in to kiss Theo on the head as you slide the bowl of ice cream towards him. “Okay. Let’s eat some ice cream.” You declare, trying to lighten the mood and give yourself a moment as you hand Marcus his own bowl. “Toppings are yours to pick. We have chocolate sauce, whipped cream, nuts, and strawberries.” You say and Theo begins to put a river of chocolate sauce in his sundae. “Maybe we have enough sauce to go with the ice cream, huh baby?” You tease and he chuckles, setting the sauce bottle down.

“He’s a man with taste.” Marcus chuckles, amazed that he is sitting down and eating dessert with his son. “I love chocolate syrup too.” He admits, taking the bottle and turning it up over his ice cream. The little boy beams happily, loving that his dad likes the same things he does. It’s almost a family moment and he feels guilty that Teresa isn’t here to see it. “What else do you like? Whipped cream and a cherry? Or strawberries?” He asks, wanting to know everything about Theo.

“Whipped cream, for sure. And nuts.” Theo answers and reaches for a spoonful of nuts. You watch him and Marcus chuckles, “same. I do like strawberries but not on ice cream.” He says and Theo nods. You reach for the strawberries, “those are for me. I love strawberries.” Marcus nods and you watch him as he takes the spoon from Theo to cover his sundae with nuts. The ice cream goes down well and you’re soon putting the dishwasher on while Marcus and Theo go outside to play catch.

Outside, Marcus feels like he is living every ‘dad dream’ he’s ever had. It started with small tosses of the ball to warm up and he started asking questions. Theo’s likes, dislikes. His dreams. Favorite movies. Learning about the boy and hopefully bonding with him. They play until you come back outside as the sun starts to go down.

Marcus sits in the living room while Theo showers and gets ready for bed. He’s already done his homework and you get him in bed. “You want your dad to come and say goodnight?” You ask Theo after you kiss his forehead.

“Yes, please mama.” He murmurs and you nod, standing up and walking into the living room where Marcus is sitting. “He wants you to say goodnight.” You tell him and he stands up, rubbing his hands on his pants.

Marcus goes down the hall and hovers in the doorway for a moment, taking in the bedroom and smiling when he sees baseball posters on the wall. It could be a bedroom from his own childhood. “You all ready for bed, buddy?” He asks, coming and sitting on the edge and nervously rubbing the covers on the edge. .

“No.” Theo says and you smile as you lean against the wall in the hallway.

“I know, I’m never tired after a big day.” Marcus smiles and pats the bed sheets.

Theo nods, settling down against his pillow, “after you fight the bad guys?” He asks his father with a sleepy smile.

Marcus reaches up and brushes Theo’s hair gently. “After I fight the bad guys.” Marcus nods and smiles down at his son. “Goodnight Theo.” He murmurs softly, amused that despite being so adamant about not being tired, he’s already starting to fall asleep. Marcus sits with him until he’s completely gone and then watches him, amazed that he is here with a child who is his.

You push off of the wall as Marcus walks into the hallway and you smile at him, at seeing the way his eyes are soft and glassy. You reach out to pat his arm, “you want another beer? Or coffee before you go? We need to talk about how we move forward.”

“Sure.” Marcus nods and follows you back out to the living room and into the kitchen. “He’s a great kid.” He gushes after a moment. Standing around, he wonders where to go from here. “I owe you a lot of child support.” He blurts out, reaching into his pocket for a check he had written. “Obviously it’s not ten years worth, but I want to start making up for not being here.”

Your eyes widen at the amount of the check. “Marcus. No- it wasn’t - you didn’t know. I can’t accept this. You didn’t know about him. You didn’t dodge it and I’ve done well. My parents helped. Please…this is way too much.” You shake your head, knowing you could never accept his money when you had ten years with your son and he’s missed out on so much.

“Put it in a college fund for him.” Marcus shakes his head when you hold the check back out to him. “Please. I might not have known about him, but I know now. If I had known then, he would have had a college fund started from the day you told me.”

You can’t deny him that, knowing that your funds for his college are a little low after you have been working hard but it’s not enough, never enough. “Marcus. It’s - I’ll put it in the bank account I have ready for his college fund.” You surge forward to wrap your arms around his neck, “thank you.”

Marcus hugs you back, there’s nothing wrong with hugging the mother of his child. This is the woman who gave him the little boy in that bedroom. He tries not to remember how good touching you had felt all those years ago. That was past, and he is involved with Teresa now. “You’re welcome.” He murmurs sincerely. “I’ll give you more. I promise.”

You step back, patting his chest, “you’re just - I’m glad you’re in Theo’s life.” You step away and you make your way to the kitchen followed by Marcus. “Take a seat and I’ll get you a beer then we can talk details.” You watch him head into the living room and you grab two beers, making your way into the living room and you sit down on the sofa beside him. “So, uh, we didn’t exactly discuss our - our situations in life. I don’t have a husband or even a boyfriend. It’s been tough dating with a young son and I’ve been focused on work and Theo. I just wanted you to know that.”

“I’m sorry.” Marcus winces and shakes his head. “You didn’t deserve to be left with the responsibility by yourself.” He won’t let go of the guilt easily. “Maybe with some help, you can have some time for yourself.” He won’t say ‘date’, but that’s your decision. “I- I am in a relationship. Another agent.” He confesses, feeling guilty again.

You hate how your heart clenches at the news but you know he was never yours. “That’s great. I- I can’t wait to meet them one day. Did you tell them about Theo?” You ask, and Marcus nods, “she knows. Her name is Teresa.” He says with a smile that makes you want to cry a little. He’s such a lovely guy and he belongs to Teresa.

You know you can’t be an idiot, you have a child together that he’s just met. You need to be sensible. “So I want you to see him. We can work out a custody schedule in a few months I’d say once Theo is comfortable and I am. I don’t want you to feel like I’m keeping him from you but I need him to be safe and secure and happy.”

Marcus holds up a hand and shakes his head. “Absolutely.” He agrees. “Theo has been your priority for ten years, eleven really.” He reasons. “You are his mother and I would never try to come in and immediately change everything. I was going to ask you if you wanted to come to the game too?” He asks. “Since it’s a few hours away? He can say that he wants to go and then get nervous because I am essentially a stranger to him. Plus, I can see how you parent, because I want to work with you on raising him.”

You appreciate how accommodating he’s being, not demanding more when he hasn’t been here at all even though it’s technically not his fault. He’s missed out on so much but he’s still wanting to include you. That makes you warm to him even more and you nod, “I think that’s a great idea. Let's all get to know each other more. We didn’t exactly have an in-depth conversation before we had sex.” You fluster and reach for your beer to take a sip, “do you want to ask Teresa if she wants to come too?” You add, hoping he says no but she’s going to be part of Theo’s life and you need to assess her.

“She has a case that she’s working on.” Marcus frowns slightly and shrugs. “She’s going to have to be on a stakeout or something.” He had originally been going to go with her, and then he had considered selling the tickets when her plans had fallen through, but this is perfect. “What do you want to know about me?” He asks.

You are relieved that Teresa isn’t coming on this first adventure and you lean back against the sofa, tucking your leg up beneath you. “First of all…I didn’t - Theo is fine but do you have any medical family history? I know mine of course but I want to know in case there’s something I need to look out for.”

“Nothing really.” Marcus shakes his head and takes a sip of his own beer. “Grandfather died of a heart attack, but he was 87.” He shrugs slightly. “I can’t say that’s a short life. Parents are pretty healthy. I haven’t told them yet, but I know they will want to meet Theo, get to know him. When you’re comfortable.”

“I’d like that. Theo would love that. I have always felt so guilty that he hasn’t had a lot of family.” You confess, taking another sip of your beer, tears stinging in your eyes as you think about all the things Theo has missed out on with his father.

“You okay?” Marcus asks and you shake your head, a few tears escaping.

“I just wish - I wish I had given you the right number.”

“It’s my fault.” Marcus will readily admit that. “I should have double checked with you before you left. I had been trying not to seem too desperate, or creepy.” He shoots you a sardonic grin. “Since we had just had sex in a jail cell after you were picked up.”

You chuckle, wiping away your tears, “that was sexy as hell though. I still think about that night sometimes.” You admit until you realize what you said, “I’m sorry. I- you have Teresa and I’m not asking you to - shit. Have I made it weird?”

“Don’t worry about that.” He shakes his head and hums with a small smile. “It’s okay. I promise. I’ve thought about it before.” He admits. “It was sexy.” He doesn’t really think about it now that he’s with Teresa, but when he was single, it was one of his go-to memories when he wasn’t in the mood to look at porn.

You chuckle, “it was.” You nudge him and move to set your beer down. “I guess we go from here. I’ll see you Saturday for the game. Are you gonna come back to the gallery or is your team working on tracking down that guy first?” You ask, curious as to what’s going to happen with the stolen painting.

“They are working on tracking down the suspect, but I normally come check in every day, every other day.” He admits, shrugging slightly. “The worst thing for the victim is to feel like they are just bogged down in the system. Especially when dealing with art. It’s normally personal or professional so everyone is eager to know that it’s being taken seriously.”

You nod, “then I’ll see you in the gallery.” You shift to stand up, “I’m sure Teresa is expecting you to be home soon. Theo will be out like a light. Do you want some water for the ride home?” You ask, looking down at him.

“Oh, Teresa and I don’t live together.” It wasn’t for lack of planning but it hadn’t happened yet. Just wasn’t quite to that place in the relationship yet even though a lot of nights were spent together. “But I will take a water.” He agrees.

You walk over to the fridge to get him a bottle of water, admiring his profile as he gathers his things. “Here you go.” You hand him the bottle and your fingers brush his. “I’ll see you soon. Maybe…if you don’t see Theo, we can do daily calls? You can talk to him.”

“I’d really like that.” Marcus quickly agrees, happy that you are so willing to let him spend time with Theo and get to know him. “Thank you.” He murmurs as you walk with him to the door. “He’s a great kid and that is all because of you. I hate that you had to do it alone but you’ve done a fantastic job.” Mother’s Day will have to come early for you and he will have to make sure that it’s amazing to make up for the ones that he missed.

You fluster at his kind words, excited to see how this goes, and you are happy for Theo to have his father in his life. You know it’s been a missing piece. No matter how hard you try to cover both positions, you know he’s been jealous of the other boys going to baseball games with their fathers or going out with the father-son groups. It’s been hard and you try to compensate but it’s impossible.

Marcus pauses at the door, turning around and smiling at you. You had been gorgeous eleven years ago, hungover and obviously partying, but now you are even more beautiful. Maybe it’s because he had a child with you, but there’s a softness that he admires for a moment. He murmurs your name, “have a good night. Call me if you need anything, okay? I want to help anyway I can.”

You nod, crossing your arms as you lean against the doorway, watching him as he makes his way to his car. You bite your lip, admiring his broad shoulders, and you know you have to stop. You will not ruin your son’s relationship with his father because you haven’t had sex in a while. You watch Marcus, waving as he pulls away, and you shut the door, closing your eyes. “It’s gonna be fine.” You murmur to yourself, deciding to get ready for bed and watch your show to distract yourself.

On the way home, Marcus contemplates calling Teresa, but he doesn’t. Instead he thinks about the situation, knowing that he will have to tell his parents soon, and they will want to meet him. He knows they will have questions so he wants to talk to you about what to tell them.

****

“You having a good time?” You ask Theo as he takes a big bite of the hot dog Marcus got him. The game is in full swing and you love how Marcus and Theo are bonding over their mutual love of baseball. You take a few photos, certain that Marcus will want them, and you think about the past few days. You and Marcus established when Theo will meet his parents and the story you’ll tell them is the truth. Although it’s awkward, keeping secrets never helps anyone. You watch the father and son and feel emotional, wishing once again that Marcus had called you after that fateful night.

“Oh man!” Theo cheers when the home run cracks off the bat and he leaps out of his seat to watch it go flying over the left field fence. Marcus grins and looks over at you, emotional at how much he is enjoying this. Almost upset that there isn’t a team in Austin so this could become a weekly thing. He’d say that season tickets could be done.

“Looks like extra innings.” He teases, playing with Theo’s cap. “You aren’t gonna wanna miss that, are you?”

Theo shakes his head so hard his neck nearly breaks, “no, dad! Of course not!” He scoffs and you hide your grin behind your hand. You watch Marcus point out various players to Theo and they discuss the stats, both clearly knowledgeable and passionate about the sport and it’s making your heart nearly burst with joy.

Marcus grins as he leans back, looking at you behind Theo’s head. “If it goes too late, do you want to spend the night?” He asks, thinking about getting a hotel depending on how many hours it goes over a normal game. “I’ll cover the cost. Two rooms.” He offers, knowing it’s not right to stay in one room.

“Please mom! Please!” Theo begs, looking up at you with wide eyes and you nod, “okay baby. Okay. We can do that if it runs too late. I, uh, I don’t really have anything. We can stop at CVS to get a tooth brush and toiletries.” You say, unable to take away from this experience for Theo. “Are you sure Teresa won’t mind?”

“She’ll be alright.” He’s already texted her and let her know that it might be a possibility. She had said ‘okay’, so he knew she was alright with it. Teresa tends to speak her mind so he trusts her. “We can stop by a store and get some things.”

Finally the game ends and it’s late, way past Theo’s bed time and you can see he’s tired from the constant yawns but he’s fighting it. “Are you ready for bed, sweetheart?” You ask, hugging Theo as you approach Marcus’s car. “Maybe a hotel is the best idea.” You tell Marcus, running your hands through Theo’s hair.

“Yeah.” Marcus frowns slightly as he has spent the last twenty minutes of the game trying to book rooms. “There’s a hotel up the road I have a room booked for you guys.” He promises, turning towards his son and smiling at how sleepy Theo looks. “We’ll find a Wal-Mart and grab toothbrushes and PJs.”

“What about you?” You ask as you buckle Theo in and get in the front seat. Marcus bites his lip, not answering. “Marcus…” You raise your eyebrows, wanting him to answer you before you start to get frustrated. You’ve learned he’s a people pleaser and it’s to his own detriment sometimes.

“There’s….” He sighs and hangs his head. “There’s some kind of big conference this weekend.” He admits quietly. “Everywhere is sold out. I could only get the one room. It’s okay, though.” He assures you. “It’s a nice place and I can catch a few hours in the car. Not like I haven’t done that before.” He chuckles, making a joke about stakeouts.

"No. No. You - you are going to get some sleep. You've been driving and you are driving tomorrow. I- Theo will sleep between us. We can share the bed. We are parents sharing a bed with our son. You can't sleep in the car." You shake your head, whispering harshly as Theo is asleep.

Marcus frowns and shakes his head. “No, the room has two beds.” He reveals. “I just don’t think that you would want…you know that Theo might get the wrong impression.” He murmurs quietly, looking in the back seat and then towards you. He’s trying to be a gentleman and give you privacy. The only intimacy you’ve shared was the night you created Theo and he’s not going to assume you would be okay with sharing a room.

You bite your lip, "two beds is perfect. I can share with Theo and you get to spread out in your own bed. He won't - we can explain that there was only one room left. He knows you are with Teresa...he wants to meet her."

“Are you sure?” He asks seriously, turning expressive eyes on you. He’s thrilled to learn that Theo wants to meet Teresa, because he wants her to get to know him, but he is talking about the hotel sleeping arrangement. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

You nod, chuckling softly. "I don't think you can make anyone uncomfortable, Marcus. You are the most caring man I can think of. We will be fine." You promise. You give Marcus a list of what you need and he goes into Walmart to get your list. You watch Theo sleep in the mirror and about ten minutes later, Marcus is pulling up at the hotel. You grab the bags after Marcus checks in and comes back out. "Can you carry Theo?"

“Of course I can.” Marcus beams as he opens the back door and starts to gently unbuckle the sleeping child and pull him out of the car. “He’s solid.” He grunts, grinning at you as Theo snuggles against his dads shoulder and grunts at being disturbed before settling back down into a limp mass of limbs.

You smile, watching Theo wrap his arms around his dad who carries him to the room. “Notice I didn’t offer.” You tease softly and pat Marcus on the shoulder as you take over finding the room. Once you’re inside, Marcus lays Theo down and you work on removing his clothes to dress him in the pajamas his dad had just bought for him. “Night, my love.” You murmur, kissing Theo’s head after you cover him up with the covers, the. you look over at Marcus who has removed his shoes and is watching you with apprehension. “I’m gonna get ready for bed. Thanks for buying these.” You hold up the shorts and tank top, feeling a little awkward but it’s necessary for Theo to get some good sleep.

“It course.” He nods, feeling bad that he always carries an overnight bag in the car. “I’ll change quickly while you’re in there and then we’ll get some sleep.” He offers, trying not to think about the mechanics of all of this. This is just two parents sharing a room with their son.

You brush your teeth and wash your face, coming out of the bathroom in the tank top and shorts and you had told yourself in the mirror that this isn't a big deal. It's Marcus and Theo. You get under the covers on the side closest to the nightstand since Theo shifted in his sleep and you look over at Marcus. "Goodnight." You murmur, your eyes finding his in the lamplight.

“Goodnight sweetheart.” Marcus whispers softly, smiling at you as he reaches over to switch off the light. “Thank you for today. Letting Theo come to the game.” He shuffles and settles in the dark. “Might be the best day I’ve ever had.”

“Me too.” You answer honestly and you smile when you hear him snore. You listen to him and Theo breathe for a while until you finally close your eyes, wishing this was real, that you were a real family.

****

The next morning is fun, if not a little hectic. Getting up and getting ready without crowding each other in the bathroom proves interesting and the two of you decide to take Theo out to breakfast before getting back on the road to Austin. Taking your time and enjoying the Sunday brunch, Marcus can’t help but laugh at your jokes and enjoy that you have such a warm and delightful personality. Making him wonder what would have happened if he had gotten your number right. Would you two be married right now? Would there be another child besides Theo? He hates thinking that way, since he’s involved with Teresa, but it’s there in the back of his mind.

You hate how natural this feels with Marcus. It should be awkward. After all, he fucked you while on duty in a jail cell, yet it feels like you’ve known him forever. You smile as Theo tells his dad about his favorite show and you realize it’s gonna be hard to meet Teresa, to meet the woman that has Marcus. “Shall we get on the road?” Marcus asks, pulling you out of your thoughts, and you nod, gathering your things. The drive home is filled with music and Theo chattering away and you can feel Marcus look at you every now and then, his hand on the gearshift and it makes you want to reach out and place your hand on top. “Dad, can you come to my game on Friday?” Theo asks, “with Teresa?”

“I’ll have to check with Teresa, but as long as nothing comes up with your mom’s case, I’ll be there.” He promises, looking in the rear view mirror at his son’s hopeful eyes. “Sometimes the bad guys don’t stop being bad to do fun things, but I will never stop trying to make sure that I am there.” It’s important to him that Theo knows that. “Even if I’m coming in at the end or having to duck out early, I will be there as much as I can.”

He knows it’s a hollow promise to a ten year old, but he also wants to make sure that he knows that sometimes dad’s job has to come before other things. It’s one of the downsides as far as Marcus is concerned.

Theo nods, “okay, dad.”

You look behind you to wink at Theo, “if not this game, the next one.” You compromise with your son, not wanting him to put all his hopes on this one game when Marcus could be working. You turn back to the front and Marcus nods, sending you a silent thanks.

****

“Come on Theo!” You cheer, watching your son run to third base and then “home run!” You shout and clap your hands. Marcus hasn’t arrived yet, he texted to say he’d be late and he has a lead on the mysterious man who was in the video.

Marcus pulls into the parking lot, rushing out of the car and takes a moment so he can lock his gun in the glove compartment and take off his jacket. Rushing over to the ball field that you had told him. He managed to catch Theo sliding into home and cheering. “Yeah! Theo! Way to go buddy!” He stands at the fence and beams at the boy as he stands up and brushes himself off.

Theo sees his dad and his face lights up. He’s covered in dirt but he looks on top of the world. You clap and cheer your son and suddenly Marcus appears beside you. “Hey!” You greet him and glance around, your brow furrowed as you look past him. “Teresa couldn’t make it?” You ask him.

“She had to work.” Marcus frowns slightly but he shrugs. “She said that she would like to go out to dinner with you and Theo.” He offers, although he had been the one to suggest it. She had been a little distracted when she agreed, but she had been rushing to get off the phone to talk to Jane.

You nod, “that would be nice. I want to meet her.” You say even though you’re not entirely convinced. Teresa doesn’t seem to want to meet. She’s avoided every opportunity to meet Theo and you are worried she won’t accept your son.

“I think you’ll get along well.” Marcus hums, even though he’s starting to get antsy about the two of you meeting. He’s spent a lot of time with you lately and while she understands, it seems as if there’s not been a lot of time for them. He doesn’t want her getting worried about things.

After the game is over, you take Theo for ice cream to celebrate and Marcus is a little distracted, looking at his phone. “Everything okay?” You ask and he nods, “yeah. I’m fine.” He says and you don’t push, knowing he has a lot on his plate.

Marcus gets the alert that there is a name on the suspect, as well as a current address. He hums and looks up, smiling at Theo and you. “Tomorrow, I might be a little out of pocket.” He announces to you. “We are going to question the man from the security surveillance.” He tells you quietly while Theo is distracted with his ice cream.

Your eyes widen slightly, “wow. I hope - hopefully something comes from it. The artist is freaking out and I’m struggling to keep him calm enough to keep his other pieces in the gallery. We had to reassure him that our security has been reinforced.” You confess and Marcus nods, “we will get him.”

Marcus hates that he had been late, finding it to be too little time with Theo. “Sorry I was late, but I’m glad to see that home run. Those batting drills are paying off.”

“Yes they are.” You smile, happy that Marcus and Theo have already bonded. You are a little sad that your son has missed out on so much with his dad but you are happy he’s here now.

****

“You got him?” You gasp when Marcus comes into your office before telling you he has found the perp who stole the piece.

“We got him. And the art. He had it in some storage unit out west, waiting until the dust settled so he could sell it.” Marcus tells you and grins.

“Oh my God. Thank you!” You surge forward to hug him, relieved and happy that the piece has been found.

Marcus grins and hugs you back. Rubbing your back gently and nodding when he pulls back. “Obviously the piece will be photographed and logged into evidence for authentication, but once that is done, we will return it to you. The pictures from recovery will be enough for the DA.”

You kiss his cheek as you pull back, “thank you. Thank you.” You squeal, not even thinking about kissing his cheek until you hear a throat clear behind you. You turn to see a woman, her eyes flicking between you and Marcus whose eyes widen as he looks at the woman.

“Teresa. Come here.” He gestures her over and introduces you. You aren’t sure if she is upset or doesn’t like you being near Marcus but she’s polite yet aloof when you get to finally meet Teresa.

Teresa slides up beside Marcus and looks up at him in amusement. “Good news?” She asks and Marcus nods.

“We recovered the painting today.” He tells her and her slightly bland smile turns genuine.

“That’s great.” She murmurs, knowing how good a closed case is for an FBI agent. She wraps her arm around his waist and hugs him tightly before she looks towards Theo. “So, this must be Theo.” She grins, bending down slightly. “Your daddy talks about you….a lot.”

“My dad doesn’t talk that much about you.” Theo answers honestly and you clear your throat, offering Teresa an awkward smile, ruffling Theo’s hair.

“It’s great to meet you.” You tell her and she nods, “you too.” Theo steps closer to you and you nudge his back, silently telling him to be polite and he looks at you with those same brown eyes as Marcus.

Marcus chuckles quietly, admitting that is true but Teresa just smiles. “I’m sure he has more to talk about with you than me.” She tells him before looking back up at Marcus. “Are we ready to go eat?” She asks. “I’m starved. Jane had us mucking through a field rather than having lunch today.”

You notice the frown on Marcus’s face as he hears the name Jane and he’s told you about Patrick Jane a few times, about how he feels like the man is trying to get involved in his relationship with Teresa.

“Let’s go to dinner.” You declare after you grab your purse and Theo starts to chatter to his dad about the upcoming game.

****

“So, uh, yeah. I haven’t given them my final decision since I wanted to talk to you first.” You tell Marcus as you sit on your sofa. Theo just went to bed and you asked Marcus to stay a little longer so you can talk.

“The Smithsonian. Wow.” Marcus says softly, looking across the room.

“Yeah. It’s - it’s huge. Modern art and I- it’s in D.C and I want Theo to have his father in his life but this job - it’s double my salary now and it’s the freakin’ Smithsonian. If you don’t want me to take the job, I understand, but Marcus…I want this. Not to guilt trip you but I’ve lived my life for Theo since I found out I was pregnant and this - this is the opportunity I’ve been waiting for.”

Immediately shaking his head, he hums in disapproval. “No, no, you should absolutely take it.” He insists. “There’s airplanes, we can visit.” He cocks his head and thinks about it for a moment. “There’s rumors of a position opening up in DC, that I’m also rumored to be in the running for now that my latest case has been solved so quickly.” He admits. “Maybe I can push for that position. You wouldn’t find it creepy if I moved to DC too? Follow you and Theo?”

You shake your head so fast it almost makes you dizzy. “You move to D.C? Marcus - that would be - I would love that. I don’t want Theo to lose his dad just when he’s got him. I want you to come to D.C with us…you and Teresa.”

“I’ll talk to Teresa.” Marcus nods. “If I get that position, it’s a director's job, I can pull some strings and get her a job at headquarters.”

You shake your head, a smile on your face, “you are amazing.” You lean in to kiss his cheek. “I’ll tell them I’m taking the job. We can figure everything out.” You promise and his phone starts to ring. “I’ll let you go home.” You say, standing up and he follows suit, deciding to silence the phone call so he can say goodbye.

“We will work it all out.” He promises as he walks with you to the door. He’s eager to get home and see about putting in for the position. He has a few friends in DC that he can call and have a conversation with.

****

Teresa is shocked when Marcus asks her to move to D.C with him, even more shocked when he proposes. She isn’t sure about the move to D.C but she can’t let him go. He’s a good man and although you and Theo aren’t her ideal, she’s reluctant to let Marcus go.

When you hear about Marcus getting the job in D.C, you are ecstatic. When you hear about Marcus and Teresa being engaged, you try to be happy for him, but it’s hard. Teresa doesn’t seem to be on board about being a stepmom to Theo, nor does she seem able to tear herself away from Patrick Jane. You’re worried about Marcus getting hurt but you don’t want to say something in case Marcus turns against you. You can’t get involved for Theo’s sake. You often imagine being a family with Marcus and Theo but you’re not an idiot. Marcus loved Teresa otherwise he wouldn’t have asked her to marry him. You sigh and continue to pack. Theo has finished the school year and you threw a goodbye party for him, you leave tomorrow and it’s bittersweet but you’re excited for the future.

“So I’m going to go ahead and find us a place.” Marcus chatters with Teresa. “I’ve already got listings booked and I’m thinking of a house, at least three bedrooms.” He tells her. “I want a room for Theo, let him come over and spend the night, give his mom a break and let us bond together.” His apartment is packed and organized, ready for the movers to pick up. “What do you think?”

Teresa bites her lip as she holds her cell phone, Jane gesturing for her to hurry up as she shuffles her feet in the airport in Miami. “Yeah. I, uh, that sounds good. Marcus…I gotta go. This case…I’ll see you in D.C, yeah?” She says and Marcus frowns but doesn’t voice his annoyance, “sure. Speak later, honey. Love you.” He says and she hums before she hangs up the phone, following her partner out to their hired car.

****

“Oh my God, he did.” You nod, laughing alongside Theo and Marcus as Theo talks about his friend shoved a marble up his nose and you had to call his mom while taking the boy to the ER after you couldn’t remove it. Marcus shakes his head, laughing at Theo’s face.

“I told him not to do it.” Theo mumbles and you chuckle, stopping when Marcus’s phone rings.

“It’s Teresa.” He says and stands up, making his way into your new living room to take the call. “Hey.” Marcus smiles as he answers the phone, happy to see Teresa’s name pop up. She should be about to take off to come to D.C. He doesn’t quite understand why she called him a few hours earlier talking about coming sooner, but he’s happy. “You about to take off? I can’t wait to see you. You should see the new place.”

Teresa looks up as Jane runs onto the plane and she can hear Marcus talking to her but she doesn’t respond. Marcus frowns when he hears Jane say “I love you” to Teresa and that’s the moment he knows it’s over. He won’t be seeing Teresa in D.C. He guesses he should’ve seen this coming but a small part of him wanted him to be the one who comes out on top, who gets the girl for once. “Marcus, you okay?” You ask, “your ice cream is melting.”

“What?” He’s staring down at his phone, frowning at it and then looks back up at you. “Oh, oh yeah.” He shakes his head, plastering a fake smile on his face. “Everything’s good.” He motions back towards the kitchen. “Let’s go eat before it’s ice cream soup.”

You don’t believe that everything is fine but you don’t press as you walk back into the kitchen and Theo has already eaten half of his ice cream. “Where’s my cherry?” Marcus asks and Theo bites his lip.

“Theo!” You reprimand the ten year old and Marcus shakes his head, snorting, “it’s fine. I’ll just have to have yours.” Marcus plucks the cherry from Theo’s sundae and the boy cries out in protest.

“It’s not nice to take without asking, is it?” Marcus asks and Theo shakes his head, “no. I’m sorry, dad. You can have the cherry.” Theo shakes his head and Marcus places the cherry back in his son’s bowl.

“You can have it but don’t take.” He teaches him and you nod, amazed at how far Marcus has come in being a father. It makes your heart thump and your stomach twist but you shove that aside.

He manages to eat his ice cream without causing his son to worry but he can feel your eyes on him. Wondering what is wrong since he’s not acting like himself.

After ice cream, Marcus and Theo clean up the kitchen together. Marcus knows it’s important to have his son help you out and it’s good for him to see that a man should help with household upkeep. “Go tell your momma goodnight and get ready for bed, buddy.” He ruffles Theo’s hair after he dries his hands. “Thank you for helping.”

Theo comes rushing over and wraps his arms around you. “Goodnight mom.” He says and you bend over to kiss his hair, “go brush your teeth and get ready for bed. I’ll bring you some water and Dad will tuck you in.” You promise and Theo rushes off to the bathroom. You glance over at Marcus who is still in the kitchen, shoulders hunched. After Theo is in bed, you and Marcus bid him goodnight, shutting the door, and you walk into the living room and spin to face Marcus.

“What’s happened?” You ask, knowing there’s something wrong.

His eyes slip closed and the tight rein on his control slips. He sighs and seems to just wilt under your gentle probing. “Teresa-“ he chokes out. “She’s- she’s not coming to D.C.” He turns and stumbles a few short steps to the couch and sags down into it, hunching forward and plopping his head into his hands, elbows on his knees.

You frown, sitting down beside him and you place your hand on his back. “What do you mean she's not coming? Is her flight delayed?” You ask, confused and wanting to comfort Marcus. He seems distraught and you feel helpless.

“She-“ he shakes his head and looks up, his eyes slightly watery. “Apparently Jane is in love with her and….” He shrugs. “She’s going to stay in Texas, with him.”

Your heart breaks for him, “oh Marcus. I- I’m so sorry.” You surge forward to wrap your arms around him, wanting to comfort him. He doesn’t need your opinion of Teresa or the situation, you know he needs you to just be there for him. “She’s a fucking idiot to pick Jane over you.”

“I should have known it wouldn’t be …” he shakes his head again. Not willing to burden you with the second thoughts that had plagued him and the terse unspoken things between him and Teresa. “It’s who she wants. I don’t want to be second place.”

You caress his back, resting your head on top of his shoulder. “You’re not second place. She didn’t know what she had. Jane is gonna break her heart. You were too good for her. Anyone could see it. Marcus…you deserve better.” You voice some of your opinion of Teresa, not wanting to say you think she’s a heartless bitch.

“It’s my fault.” Marcus groans, embarrassed that you are seeing this. Seeing him wallow like this. He should have just gone home. Now you are going to think that he is some kind of sap. Or worse, a horrible example for Theo. “I should have seen the signs. They were there.”

“She should’ve told you. She shouldn’t have dragged you along. She shouldn’t have accepted your proposal or agreed to move to D.C with you. I don’t see how this is your fault when you gave her every chance to say no. She should’ve backed out long ago if she was in love with Patrick Jane. She led you on and you should never blame yourself for that.”

“I should have ended things when I found out about Theo.” Marcus rambles on, appreciating your comfort but he always blames himself. “Concentrated on that. Instead of thinking about having it all.”

You huff, “finding out about Theo doesn’t change anything. She - Teresa didn’t exactly seem enthusiastic to get to know him and - and as his mother, I could sense that. You can have it all, sweetheart. You will. She just wasn’t the right one. I’m so sorry. You don’t deserve this.”

“I don’t want to be bringing women in and out of his life.” Marcus reaches out and he takes your hand, turning it over and kissing the back of it. “Thank you for trying to make me feel better, but I should go home.”

You nod, knowing he probably needs to go home and have a drink. “You’ll find the right one, Marcus. You deserve your happy ending.” You tell him, leaning in to kiss his cheek as he stands at your front door. “Go have a whiskey and pass out and tomorrow, wallow. Don’t force yourself to be happy, go lucky. You can be mad and upset.” You remind him, knowing he will try to push it aside.

“Thank you.” Again, the thought of where he would be if he had called you floats through his head but he doesn’t say anything. He’s not in the right headspace to say anything and you’ve never even hinted that you wanted anything to do with him. Besides, he doesn’t want a rebound. “I’ll see you later.” He pulls away and stands, grabbing his jacket and shuffling towards the door.

You watch him go and close the door, your heart breaking for him, and you want to fly to Miami and strangle Teresa for hurting him. He deserves more. You often wonder what life would've been like if he had called. Would you be married? Or would you be divorced? It’s hard to imagine you’d divorce Marcus. You know he’s gonna wallow and you make your way to bed, knowing you’ll be there for him no matter what.

****

“Hey.” Marcus has been wallowing for two weeks and he’s tired of feeling down and letting his personal life affect his relationship with you and his son. “What are you doing this weekend?” He tucks his phone against his shoulder and waits for you to answer. He’s gotten tickets to a Nationals game and wanted to take both of you.

You glance around your office, watching your staff walk down the hall through the window. “Nothing. I was gonna take Theo to the park, maybe get some brunch. What are you up to?” You ask him and he tells you about the baseball game. “Well you know Theo will love that.” You smile, “we haven’t been to a game here yet.”

“I’ve got three tickets.” He doesn’t say that it was for Teresa, because he had just bought them. “So I was hoping that you would come with us? Make it a group outing? Unless you want to take the time and have some alone, non-parental adult time for yourself?”

You bite your lip and know you’d love to spend some time to yourself but you also don’t want to miss out on spending time with Theo, and with Marcus. You want to discuss doing the DNA test to get shared custody of Theo so Marcus can spend more time with his son. “I’d like to go. I know Theo will love it and I think we could all use some time to enjoy ourselves.”

“Great!” He knows you are probably still worried about him, you’ve been texting him everyday. Checking on him and he appreciates it. He could have never imagined a better mother for his child or a friend. It makes him kick himself in the ass sometimes for not finding you after that night.

****

“You’re going undercover for a month?” You ask Marcus, arms crossed. It’s been three months since Teresa broke his heart and you’re worried he’s doing this because he wants to distract himself. You’ve been trying to keep him occupied, going on picnics, going to museums and the movies. All with Theo. It’s been hard to not want more from him but he’s emotionally drained and you have to put Theo first. “

“Yeah.” Marcus hates that he has to do this, but it’s also a good thing. He’s started imagining you as a complete family and he doesn’t want you to feel like he’s using you to get over Teresa. “Apparently there’s something that I can be good for.” He jokes quietly and flashes you a grin. “I’ve been sitting behind a desk too much lately.”

You don’t want him to go, you know undercover missions are dangerous and he won’t be able to communicate with you or Theo for the time that he’s gone. “You- you really want to go? I- Theo is going to miss you. So am I.” You admit, biting your lip as you stare at him.

“I’ll miss you both too.” That is easy to confess. “I will be safe, but honestly?” He sighs. “I’m the only one that can go in. My team isn’t exactly unknown in the art world.”

You nod, knowing you can’t stop him, this is his job. “You wanna stay for dinner and you can say goodbye to Theo?” You ask, a little annoyed that he waited until the day of to tell you but you can see he’s been nervous.

“Sure.” You step forward to touch his upper arm, “you’d better not be killed, Pike…otherwise I’ll murder you.” You threaten playfully as you make your way to the kitchen to begin dinner while Theo sits at the table finishing his homework. Marcus chuckles like he was supposed to as you both walk into the kitchen.

“Hey buddy.” Marcus’ smile immediately brightens when he sees his son sitting at the table.

“Hey dad.” He glances up and grins before he’s looking back down at his work sheets.

“I wanted to talk to you before dinner.” Marcus sits down and waits until Theo puts his pencil down. “Buddy, I’ve got to go out of town for work. A big case and I’ve got to be out of touch. It’ll be for a month, and then I promise I’ll be back and you and I are going to spend a ton of time together.”

Theo frowns, “a whole month?” He asks and Marcus nods. “Why?” Theo whines and you turn to look at him in warning for his tone.

“I gotta go fight bad guys. I can’t - I promise you I’ll spend as much time as possible with you when I get back.” Marcus promises and Theo pouts, “I don’t want you to go! You’re gonna disappear and I’ll never see you again.”

“That won’t happen.” Marcus promises, shaking his head. “If there’s an emergency, I’m going to give your mom a number so my work can get me a message.” He explains

You walk over to rub Theo’s back, “it’s okay, sweetheart. Your dad will be back before you know it. He’s gotta go fight bad guys and he’s gonna come back and spend so much time with you. Maybe you can stay with your dads for a change.” You give Theo something to look forward to.

“We could do that?” Theo asks hopefully and Marcus nods.

“Of course. I want you to stay. I want you to have your room set up just the way you want it.”

You nod, “your dad and I will talk when he’s back about spending some nights together. Boy time without mama.” You wink, and Marcus smiles at you before you finish cooking dinner. After you eat, it’s time for Marcus to go and you watch him say goodbye to Theo for the month.

There are extra long hugs and Theo tears up, but Marcus is right there with him. “I love you, buddy.” Marcus promises. “I’m going to be back as quickly as I can. And I’m going to be thinking about you all the time.”

You watch them say goodbye with tears in your eyes and you know it will be hard for Marcus and Theo to be away from each other. They are so close now and you wonder how they were ever apart. Marcus kisses his forehead and you watch Marcus as steps towards you. You wrap your arms around him and you breathe him in, holding him close before he leaves for at least four weeks.

“I’ll be back. I promise.” He doesn’t hesitate to kiss the top of your head. “Take care of our boy, okay?” He asks softly, wishing that he didn’t have to go.

You step back and you pull Theo into your side as Marcus grabs his jacket. “I’ll see you soon.” He promises both of you and Theo’s lower lip trembles as he watches his dad leave.

“It’s okay baby.” You promise, pulling him into your arms to comfort him. You know he loves his father and if you’re being honest with yourself, so do you.

****

The month seems to drag by and you decide to put up a calendar so Theo can cross off the days until his father is supposed to be home and finally, it’s that day. You are anxious, waiting for Marcus to call to say he’s coming home and finally, when the phone rings, you grab it so fast it nearly drops out of your hand. “Marcus.” You sigh, relieved when he says hello. “Are you okay? Are you safe?” You ask, desperate to hear that he’s fine.

“Hey.” Marcus grins, even though he’s exhausted. He just got out of a long debriefing and still has to fly home, but he wanted to hear your voice and Theo’s. “I’ve got a flight in about ten minutes. I should be back in D.C. late, but I was wondering if I could come over and see Theo? And you?”

You glance over at your computer, a little lost in the fact that he’s okay. Your pounding heart calms a little and you exhale softly. “Of course. Theo will be mad if I don’t let him see you as soon as you are back in D.C. Come over when you’re back. Theo can take the day off of school tomorrow and we can do something together to celebrate you being back. How long is the flight?” You ask and Marcus pauses, “I, uh, actually I’m flying from Austin. Had to go do a deposition. Figured I’d head straight there after the op ended to get it out of the way.” He confesses and you bite your lip, a little mad that he didn’t call first thing.

“Oh, okay. Well, uh, I’ll see you soon.” You say and he clears his throat, “yeah. There’s something I wanna talk to you about. See you later.” He says vaguely and your stomach twists. What could he possibly want to talk about?

You mull it over for a couple of hours until it hits you. “Teresa.” You choke, he’s getting back together with her. Something in your gut just tells you that’s what he wants to discuss.

On the flight, Marcus mulls over what he wants to say. He’s missed you. A lot. Not just Theo, but you as well. You’ve been on his mind constantly, wondering if you’re cooking dinner or curling up with your phone to giggle at videos that you’ll share with him. He realized over the last month that he’s been gone, he’s in love with you. It’s been hard to not call you and tell you, but he decided it was better to do it in person. If you don’t feel the same way, he won’t try to convince you. He’ll concentrate on helping you raise Theo. But he’s come to view the three of you as a family. The family that he’s been supposed to have all along.

The doorbell rings and you smile when Theo rushes to the door. “Hold on, sweetheart, let me check who it is.” You look through the peephole and your heart thumps as you see Marcus, looking different with a beard. You open the door and Theo rushes out, “dad!” He shouts and wraps his arms around Marcus.

“Hey buddy!” Marcus rushes towards his son and scoops him up into a crushing hug. Feeling instantly better now that his little boy is in his arms. “God, I missed you. I thought about you every day. Talked to you at night before I went to bed.” He pulls back and grins at the boy. “Have you been good for your momma?”

Theo surges forward to hug his dad again, reluctant to let go so you answer, “he’s been good. Been making a list of things he’s wanted to talk to you about so be prepared.” You joke and Marcus chuckles, “I got all the time for you, bud. I have the next week off so I’m all yours.”

You are relieved to see Marcus and he steps forward to kiss your cheek while holding Theo close to his side. “Hey sweetheart.” He murmurs and you smile at him, letting him step into your apartment.

“Come in, I’m just making dinner.” You tell him and shut the door behind him when Theo takes his hand to practically drag him inside.

Marcus chuckles and shakes his head. “You missed me?” He teases playfully but Theo just scoffs.

“Of course I missed you dad. I didn’t have anyone to play catch with.” He sends you an apologetic look. “Mom tries but she’s not as good as you are.”

He ruffles Theo’s hair. “That’s okay. Mom’s great at a lot of other things.”

You nod, “exactly. Who else is gonna make your lunch just how you like it? Daddy doesn’t know how to cut off the crusts.” You tease and Theo shakes his head, “I don’t want that anymore.” He lies, “I’m a big boy.”

You snort, “sure thing baby.” You wink at Marcus as the boys sit at the kitchen table and you grab a beer for Marcus and a juice for Theo.

“What did you do, dad? Did you fight the bad guys?”

“I did.” Marcus smiles a thank you towards you as he takes the beer. “But first I had to convince them that I was a bad guy too.” He admits and Theo’s eyes widen.

“But you are the best!” He cries, making Marcus feel so very honored that his son thinks so highly of him.

“I was just trying to get them to tell me all the bad stuff they were doing. And I did it. So I got to arrest them.”

“That’s awesome!” Theo cheers, a wide grin on his face and you are glad that Marcus is back with his son…for now at least. You work on dinner, listening to them catch up and when you sit down, Marcus asks how you’ve been. “Same old. Work has kept me busy. Trying and failing to play catch with this one keeps me occupied.” You tease Theo who looks down at his plate with a little remorse at his comment. You wink at him when he looks up to show you are teasing and he starts to dig into his dinner. “I, uh, had my mom come stay for a weekend. She looked after Theo while I went out with some work friends.”

“That’s great.” Marcus’ smile tightens slightly, wondering if it was a date. He doesn’t have any reason to be jealous, but he would love to take you out. To give you a kid free night and explore what could be between the two of you. “Did you have fun?”

“Yeah it was good.” You nod, “Theo had a good time with his grandma, right?” You ask the little boy who nods, “she gave me soooo much chocolate.” He says and you chuckle, “and she was told it was too much.” You remind him and ruffle his hair.

You finish eating and Theo is reluctant to go to bed but you soon convince him to shower and get ready for bed so Marcus can go lay in the bed with him until he falls asleep. “Night, my love.” You kiss Theo on the forehead and pat Marcus’s side as he lays down and pulls Theo close to continue talking.

“Dad?” Theo asks softly.

“Yeah?” Marcus murmurs back.

“Mommy missed you.” He reveals without you knowing.

“She did?” Marcus’ heart leaps in his chest but he focuses on his son, brushing his hair back. “Why do you say that?” He asks quietly. He wonders if you just agreed that you missed him when Theo said something or if you had been upset that he wasn’t around to help.

“She would stare at that photo of the three of us, that’s in the hall. She’d cry and think I couldn’t see it, hear her.” He whispers, innocent eyes wide as he looks at his father.

“Oh.” He closes his eyes and nods. “I understand.” He whispers, leaning in and pressing his forehead against Theo’s. “I’ll make sure I make it up to her too.” He promises. He knows how much Theo loves his mom. You’re easy to love.

Theo snuggles into his chest, closing his eyes. “I love you, dad.” He murmurs, falling asleep moments later. When Marcus comes out of Theo’s room, softly shutting the door behind him, you look up from your phone. “He asleep?” You ask and Marcus nods, “out like a light.”

You smile softly, setting your phone down, “he’s missed you so much.” You tell Marcus who comes to sit down beside you.

“I missed him.” He says and you notice him hesitating.

“Marcus…do you have something you need to tell me? Because I’d rather you just rip the bandaid off if you’re gonna be moving back to Austin, back to Teresa.” You spit out your worries, unable to stop it.

“What?” Marcus’ eyes widen and he’s bewildered until he remembers that he had told you that he was flying back from Austin. “No, no, I’m not getting back together with Teresa.” He promises. “I’m not going back to Texas. I want to stay here with Theo. And you.” He takes a step closer to you. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking while I’ve been gone.”

You look up at him, your brow furrowed and you wonder what he’s talking about. “Me too. I want - I want us to have shared custody of Theo. Officially. I want you to be listed as his father and I want you to be able to have all the rights a father has.”

“Is that all you want?” He asks softly, knowing that he’s putting his heart on the line. “I want- I needed that time apart.” He admits. “I wanted to make sure that I wasn’t just feeling grateful for you after Teresa, but I know that I - I’m in love with you.”

You stare at him, in shock and your jaw drops slightly. “You- wait - you - Marcus?” You ask breathlessly. He fidgets, looking like he’s regretting telling you but you shake your head and surge forward to cup his cheeks, bringing his eyes back to you. “I love you for the brilliant agent you are. I love you for how kind you are. I love you for what an incredible father you are. I am so in love with you, Marcus Anthony Pike. You are the one that got away but you’re back now and I’m yours if you want me.” You promise him, voice steady as you give air to the emotions that have been plaguing you since long before Marcus left to go undercover.

His brow furrows and he pulls you closer, feeling both incredibly frustrated for all the time you’ve lost together and relieved that you feel the same way. He whispers your name. “I love you.” He promises before he ducks his head and presses his lips to yours.

The kiss is sweet and full of yearning. You and Marcus may have started off as a purely physical encounter but these feelings are the culmination of months and months of friendship and respect. You sigh into the kiss, your hands sliding down to rest on his chest and you can feel how fast his heart is thumping.

“Baby.” He pulls away and kisses down your jaw. “I love you. I just- I wanted to make sure -“ he groans again and his hands slide down to the very cusp of your ass. “I’ve felt so guilty. Because I wanted our little family to be real.”

You whimper when his lips kiss down your neck. “Marcus. Whatever happens- we - we agree that Theo comes first but - I really want to take you to my bed right now.” You admit, “and do naughty things to you.”

He groans against your pulse, unable to deny the fact that his cock is twitching. He’s had sex with you once and it is one of the highlights of his sexual experiences. So he might be a little nervous that he doesn’t live up to your expectations. “Let me make love to you.” He begs, scraping his teeth over your sensitive skin and grinning when you shudder. “I promise it won’t be the last time we are in bed together.”

You should be worried that this will change everything and if anything happens between you and Marcus, you put Theo in the middle. However, you don’t feel scared, you feel like this is meant to be. You feel like you belong with Marcus, in his arms. The love you feel isn’t fleeting or a honeymoon phase, it’s deep and real. “Take me to bed.” You request softly and Marcus takes your hand, guiding you to your bedroom. He’s been in here before but mainly to help with DIY stuff and when you’ve been putting laundry away. He shuts the door behind him while you shift towards the bed and when he walks over to cup your cheeks, you suddenly go a little shy.

“Hi.” You murmur when his nose nudges yours. Marcus chuckles softly, “hi.” His response is soft and sweet, making you lean forward to press your lips together while your fingers work on the buttons of his shirt.

It’s slow. An opposite response to the first time that you were together. He wants you completely bare, he wants to be bare. He wants this to be what it should have been that first time. Sighing when your fingers brush his bare skin, he reaches for your hands and brings them up to kiss your fingers. “I’ve dreamed of touching you again so many times.” He confesses. “I want to make this good.”

“It’s you. It will be good because it’s you.” You promise him, your fingers caressing his jaw while his hands let go of yours to find the hem of your shirt. You let him pull it over your head and his hands caress your spine while they slide up to the clasp of your bra. “God, I love you.” You sigh after he removes your bra and he’s dragging you against him, your chests pressed together and your confession comes seconds before his lips find yours again.

Your taste is intoxicating, his tongue slides into your mouth and tangles with yours. Keeping it lighter, but the hunger is there, just simmering beneath the softness. His hands roam over your back before he slides them down to unhook your pants. “I want to taste you.” He groans against your lips. “Thought about it that night. Just spreading you apart wearing my cuffs and tonguing fucking your cunt on that jail cell bed.”

You moan softly at the memory of that night. How feral and rough it was. “Fuck, I- I think about that night all the time. When I- when I use my vibrator. Remember how you felt, the way you touched me. How you sounded.” You confess while he pushes your pants down and you step out of them to leave you in your underwear.

“I want to touch all of you.” He groans. “I wish I had just stripped you down. Fuck getting caught. You are gorgeous.” His hands caress your stomach, in awe that this body gave him Theo so long ago. “I can’t tell you how many times I jerked off thinking about that night. What I would have done if I had you again.”

“Shit, Marcus.” You pant, loving the dirty talk that’s spilling from his mouth and you reach down to squeeze his hard cock through his pants. “Always imagined sucking your cock. Wanting you to cum down my throat. So much I want you to do to me and me to you. Fuck.” You gasp when he bends over to take your nipple into his mouth. You tangle your fingers in his hair and push him further into your chest, your body almost shaking from the sensation after so long without physical touch.

He can’t help but groan when you tangle your fingers and tug. You hadn’t touched him that night and all of your previous touch had been innocent and friendly. Suckling hungrily, he bites down on your nipple gently and then soothing it with a loving lick. Imagining them filled with milk for his son. Imagining seeing you pregnant.

“Marcus. I want - I want to see all of you.” You plead when he lathes your other breast with attention until you’re pushing him back. You reach for his belt, unbuckling it and working fast to unbutton his pants. Reaching in to wrap your fingers around his cock that you never got to touch the first time.

“Fuck.” Marcus hisses, his hips rocking up. “Jesus, baby.” He lets you take control, knowing that you had been at his mercy the first time. He owes you this. “Sit on my face.” He begs, willing to do whatever you want but he wants his tongue into you.

You won’t argue with him, letting go of his cock to push your underwear down and he works on pushing his pants and boxers down, struggling to kick off his shoes until he’s left in just his socks and he’s in too much of a hurry to remove those. You watch him lay down and you kneel on the bed. “Fuck, I want to suck your cock too. Didn’t get a chance to.” You say, bending over to run your tongue along the underside of his cock as it rests heavy on his lower stomach.

“Fuck.” Marcus moans, nodding almost dumbly as your tongue presses against the head. “Whatever you want. I just want to make you feel good, baby”

You nod, shifting to straddle Marcus’s chest. You want to suck him off but you remind yourself that you don’t just have one night, you have as many as he will give you. You slow down a little as you sit on his chest and his hands grab your thighs, shifting you until you are hovering over his face.

“Jesus Christ, you have such a pretty cunt.” Marcus groans before he lunges up and dives into your folds. Sliding his tongue through the wetness and moaning at your taste.

Your hands find your headboard, a moan escaping your lips as his tongue dives deep. “Fuck! Marcus!” You cry, throwing your head back and you realize you were too loud for sleeping Theo. You bite your lip, trying to remain quiet and rocking your hips down to meet his eager tongue.

Marcus groans, his hands coaxing you to ride his face. He doesn’t want you to suppress your noises, he wants to hear all of them. Cock throbbing as he probes deeper into your cunt, his chin grinding against your clit.

You let go of your lip as you can’t help the moan that escapes you as you grind down onto his face, his hands squeezing your hips with encouragement and you whimper when he nudges your clit just right.

Chuckling, Marcus makes sure that you are still getting that pressure that makes you whimper. Watching your ass move as you rock on his tongue, lost in pleasure. He wonders when the last time you had someone do this for you. He knows it will be something regular now, as long as you want it.

His chuckle vibrates through you and you reach up to squeeze your own tits after letting go of the headboard, your head thrown back as you grind onto his face. “Fuck. Fuck. I’m gonna - Marc - oh shit.” You squeal and clamp down on his tongue, soaking his face as you cum with a low moan.

He swears he could cum from just that alone. Groaning and continuing to make sure that you have the best orgasm you can possibly experience. Slowing his tongue and just keeping you shaking as you ride it out.

You take a moment to savor the feel of him before you bend over, taking his hard cock into your mouth with renewed vigor after he made you cum so hard. His answering groan makes you work harder, shifting off of his face to take him deeper.

“Baby.” He gasps, reaching down and cupping your jaw. “Holy shit.” His eyes roll back in pleasure when you flick your tongue over his frenulum and suck on the tip. “Not- not gonna last if you do that.” He pants, wanting to be inside you when he cums.

You reluctantly pull off of him, shifting to straddle his thighs, his cock pressed against your stomach as you lean down to kiss him. Again, there’s no rush as you languidly caress his tongue with yours. “Fuck, I love you.” You murmur against his chin. “I have an IUD. I know we never discuss anything sexual but it’s been a while for me and I’m clean.” You haven’t been a nun since Theo was born, managing a few nights out with coworkers or friends while your mom babysat back in Austin and you ended up having sex before rushing home to relieve your mom, never taking it beyond that for Theo’s sake.

“I love you too.” Marcus promises. “I- I got tested after ending things with Teresa.” It was a part of the work up for his undercover mission, but he had been planning on scheduling it anyway. “I’m clean and I trust you completely. You know that. Or you should.”

You caress his chest after you sit up, “I trust you with everything I am.” You promise him and his answering grin makes your heart thump. You shift up onto your knees, reaching between you to grip his cock and you position him at your entrance, sinking down onto him with a moan as he slowly stretches you out.

Marcus watches in rapture as your face twists up in pleasure at the fill of him. “I love you.” He groans, caressing your side and smiling up at you as you adjust to him. He wants you to take your time, whatever time you need. He wants you to have the exact pleasure you want tonight.

You take a moment to adjust to him, he’s long and you feel like he’s already in your guts. You caress his chest and close your eyes for a moment, just feeling him. Finally, your thighs touch his and you open your eyes to look at him. “Fuck, you feel so good.” You admit after you lift up, slowly, and you feel him dragging against your walls as you sink back down onto him.

“You feel good.” He groans. “You felt so good that night, but now.” He shakes his head and squeezes your hips. “I love you. Fuck baby, you look so good. You belong right there.”

Your heart pounds as you look down at him, your hand sliding over his chest to feel how his heart beats and you love the way he’s looking at you like you’re the most precious thing in the world. “It was meant to be. That night. Us having sex. Having Theo. It took a while but this is where we belong.” You murmur, grinding down onto him.

“Yes it is, baby.” That he’s now completely certain of. “I want to make a real family with you.” He knows that serious conversations need to happen, Theo’s best interests need to come first, but he wants you to know how serious he is. “Us baby. The three of us.”

His words make tears spring in your eyes and you bend over, cupping his cheeks so you can kiss him. “The three of us. A family, oh God. You have no idea how many times I’ve imagined it. Maybe…maybe one day…another baby. If it works out.” You suggest, “want you to be there for it all.” You murmur, kissing his jaw as you rock back onto him.

“Fuck.” Marcus groans and his cock twitches inside you. “I hate that I missed it. I would have waited on you, hand and foot.” There’s nothing he wants more than to see you growing his child, but maybe there can be another one sometime soon. If you want. He would love it. “Want to marry you, baby.” He coos.

His words make you shiver at the idea of being Mrs. Pike, but in the best way possible. It’s something you’ve definitely thought about, you’d guiltily admit that you thought about it when he was with Teresa. You rock back onto him, your chest still pressed against his. “I want to be yours, Marcus. In every way. You are - fuck - you are everything I want.” You promise, leaning closer to kiss along his neck.

The moment lingers and it’s everything that he’s wanted. The sensation more than he had with Teresa. He knows that now. His hands slide up your back, tongue pressing against the dip in your shoulder.

You are breathless as you rock on top of him, “Marc.” You moan as your body shakes above him, getting closer and closer as the angle hits just right and his pelvis is rubbing against your clit. You bury your face in his neck when you cum. It’s slow and intense, making your entire body vibrate as you feel it from your toes all the way to your head. It’s dizzying and you shudder as you try to work yourself through it.

“Good girl.” Marcus moans, closing his eyes and feeling your body shake and shudder as you softly come down from your high until you are limp on top of him. “God, you are so perfect.”

You tilt your head to kiss him, enjoying the feel of him inside of you and the lingering haze of your orgasm. His tongue slides against yours and you’re in no rush. You have all night and hopefully every night from now on. His hands caress your back until he pulls back from your mouth and rolls you over, his body hovering over yours. “You gonna make love to me?” You ask softly, fingers caressing his lips.

“I am.” Marcus leans in and nudges his nose against yours. Pressing his lips to yours in a petal soft kiss before sliding his hand down to lift your thigh onto his hip. “Want to make sure you know exactly how I feel about you.”

You caress his shoulders, “show me.” You order, wanting to experience Marcus like this. After so many months of pining for him, watching him with Teresa. You finally have him and he’s taking his time to make sure you know how he feels. When he starts to move inside of you, it’s slow and you feel every ridge and vein of him. “Shit.” You pant, tilting your head back.

He keeps his lips on your skin. Trailing kisses up and down your throat as he slowly rocks into you. Just slow enough that you feel him move but he’s not even built up anything that could be considered a pace. Feeling like he’s home and relishing it.

You keep your head tilted back so he can kiss along it, making you sigh and your hands caress his shoulders before sliding up to his cheeks, bringing his face to yours so you can kiss him. You wrap both your legs around him, wanting him to be even closer and he barely moves as your tongues slide against each other.

It’s like time doesn’t matter right here, and it doesn’t. The fatigue, the sorrow, the loneliness all evaporate as the two of you slowly move towards that pinnacle together. Almost more emotional than physical as he wants to stay buried inside you.

You shift your hips and Marcus moves a little faster, sensing what you need without you saying it, and you whimper when he shifts deeper inside of you. The pace is still leisurely and your lips hover against his, eyes closed as you breathe him in.

“Fuck, I love you.” Marcus promises, rocking slowly and tightening his hold on you. Feeling like he’s in Heaven. “This is- everything to me.”

“Me too.” You promise in return, caressing his shoulders and back as he rocks into you and he’s still in no rush. “You’re everything to me. You and Theo. My - my fucking world. Would do anything for either of you.” You vow, clenching around his cock.

He hums, knowing you mean every word you say. You have been nothing but truthful with him. Good to him when he didn’t deserve it and he’s honored that you fell in love with him.

When Marcus picks up the pace a little, you tighten your grip on him and can’t stop the little moans that escape your lips. “Oh God. Yes, right there.” You murmur, lost in the pleasure and the emotion as he pushes deep inside of you.

“There?” He grunts, biting his lip and concentrating to make sure that he makes you cum again. His arms brace his body up above you, still close as he works his cock in and out of your tight cunt. “Fuck, one more baby.” He begs. “Give me one more.”

You can’t speak as he hits the right spot over and over. Your stomach twists and your thighs tighten around him as he pushes deep until you are clamping down on his cock. Your head thrown back as you cum, gushing around him as a silent cry of his name graces your lips.

“Oh god, baby.” He groans, and presses his lips to yours as he starts to feel his own orgasm start to take over. “I love you, I love you so much.”

You watch him as he cums, his eyes squeezing shut as his jaw drops after he pulls back from you and you squeeze him within your walls, wanting to milk him for everything he has. Your hands caress his shoulders, sliding down his back. “I love you too. More than you’ll ever know.” You promise against his chin .

Panting, Marcus smiles and kisses your lips again. “I can’t believe that we are here like this.” He admits with a small chuckle. “I think that the best thing I did was watch the drunk tank that night.”

You cup his cheek, “I think the best thing I did was go out to celebrate my graduation. It’s been - it’s been a wild journey but I wouldn’t change anything. I love you and Theo so much. My world. I want to be your wife, I want to have more of your babies. I want you. Forever. Marcus, I fucking love you.” You declare breathlessly and he grins, pecking your lips.

“You’ll get everything you want because that’s what I want. You’re what I want. You and my Theo. You’re everything.” He promises and you pull him close, his cock still inside of you and you know that you were always meant to belong to Marcus and him to you. It took eleven years but you and Marcus are finally where you belong: together.

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

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wildemaven · 6 months

Text

You reunite with Marcus, after splitting up, years later at a friends wedding in London

Inspired by I Crawl Home to Her

#Marcus pike #marcus pike imagine #pedro pascal #wildemaven moodboard #wildemaven moodboard Marcus p

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psychedelic-ink · 2 years

Text

In Your Hands.

pairing: marcus pike x fem!reader

genre: smut, romance

word count: 2.4k

summary: when you start to go out with Marcus, you're aware he's heartbroken due to his relationship before you. Knowing this you want to go slow and since he's your boss, the two of you keep the relationship a secret. But your hopes for a slow romance is thrown out the window when you accidentally say something that shocks the both of you.

warnings: post breakup marcus, office secret romance, semi public sex (fun times in the office, no one sees), piv, multiple orgasms, love bombs, cumming untouched, mild dirty talking, dry humping

a/n: this was written for @pedropascalsx this idea & prompt belongs to them <33 hope you're feeling better love and I hope you enjoy xx

requests open for pedro pascal characters, moon knight & peter parker 💌

masterlist

You know a broken man when you see it and Marcus Pike is the textbook definition of one.

Upon his arrival to Washington, DC you had already heard a lot about agent Pike, he was an outstanding officer, one of the kinder ones– At least that was what you heard but you know better than to heed the words of office gossip.

You know his arrival before you actually see him, whispers circling the workplace like a hurricane. Your best friend, who was lucky enough to actually see this mystery man, remarks to you how lucky you are to have him as your supervisor. A heartfelt laughter escapes you as a response. When she pouts, you quip that it is quite the opposite since a relationship with someone who is essentially your boss is out of the question.

Soon after the exchange you see him. You see the softness lurking within his dark brown eyes, the sharpness of his jaw, the plumpness of his lips– All of it is enough to prompt your stomach to do somersaults.

His eyes shift from the captain and on to you, a soft smile tugs at his lips when you meet his gaze. Within that small second, you see the hurt lingering. Marcus Pike was clearly in pain. Your short amount of working with the FBI made it easy to spot. The dark bags under his eyes, the unshaven stubble, the polite yet hurried nods made to end a conversation. The trails were there, you just need to look carefully enough to see them. The thing you can’t see, however, was the question of what caused the pain– But that's none of your business now is it?

With a shaky breath you leave, deciding that you’ll introduce yourself later.

You decide that you hate keeping secrets.

It’s an ironic thought when your job essentially revolves around keeping secrets, but those unsaid truths don't belong to you. However, this one does.

Marcus quickly took you by storm– his kindness and humor combined with his skills in the field incubating a perfect atmosphere for your feelings to bloom. The more you got to know him, the more you fell for him. But your initial thought still holds truth to it, Marcus was broken. Heart broken, to be exact. Despite the dates you’ve been on with him, you still aren’t sure if he’s completely healed from it. He treats you well– He treats you so well, in fact, that you’re sure no man will ever suffice when he evidently leaves you.

Subtly shaking your head, you squint your eyes to get a better view at the presentation playing out in front of you. Marcus’s shoulder is pressed snugly against your own, his breath fanning across your neck, the warmth of it makes your chest stutter. After moments of trying to watch the poor, unprepared agent trying to ramble on, you give up all pretence of listening and lean back into your chair. Marcus chuckles behind you, scooching closer with his hand running up your thigh. Leaning in, you feel his lips against the shell of your ear.

“Bored?”

You shudder at the tone and close your eyes. You decide right then and there that he has too much power over you.

“A bit,” you whisper, voice strained.

Marcus’s hand continues to slide up your leg, fingers curling at the inside of your thigh as he starts to push up your pencil skirt. You let out a stuttered breath. Without even thinking you press your legs together, accidentally trapping his fingers in between them. In hopes to hide the display of affection, you roll your chair closer to the table, propping your elbow against the table. The wetness between your legs grows and you just know that he can feel it.

“I love this skirt,” he muses. “Is it for me?”

You slightly shift in your seat to meet his gaze. His smile is genuine, the corner of his eyes wrinkling as he gazes at you, clearly enjoying himself. A sudden surge of competitiveness rushes through you. You want to beat him at his own game, you want him to be as flustered as you are.

You want him to lose every ounce of self control that he has and ravish you.

“Not really,” you say, uninterested. You hope that your acting skills are enough to fool him. “You flatter yourself too much, not everything I do is to impress the boss you know?”

He raises an eyebrow but his smile never wavers. Dominating your personal space, he comes closer. Your heart skips a beat with signs of danger ringing in your ears.

“Is that so?” he blows into your ear and grins at the way you jump.

“Lying doesn’t suit you, agent.”

With his hand still resting between your legs, Marcus pulls back with a smile. But despite his innocent gaze towards the screen, you can feel him digging his blunt nails into the flesh of your thighs.

Fuck, you’ve been made.

The blinds; closed.

The door; locked.

You; bent over the armrest of his couch with your legs spread.

Marcus likes to take it slow. During the beginning of your relationship, you were quick to find out that Marcus had a thing for being the one in control, the one to give pleasure rather than being the one to receive it. When you begged for him, for his cock, it gave him a sense of thrill. And he chased that thrill every time, relentlessly. It was the only part in his life where he could feel adrenaline ringing in his ears without the danger of being shot at. You enjoy being the one to give him this sense of sanctuary.

He pats your clothed ass with a smile, squeezing the muscle tenderly. You worry your bottom lip, normally, especially while at the office, Marcus would act a bit more rushed. Neither of you want to be known for screwing at work after all, but today… today he’s making your mouth water with the mere thought of fucking.

The inside of your thighs are already soaked when he slides his hand down to cup the skin right under your skirt, his hand is large and warm, another spike of arousal rushes through you.

“Marcus…” you whine, slightly lifting your hips. “I don’t want to play anymore,”

“Should’ve thought about that before teasing me,” his hand slips under your skirt and nestles between your thighs, he hums. “Look at you, drenched already. Do you think you can cum with me just feeling you up like this?”

“N-No,”

“What? You’re giving up without even trying?” he keens. “That’s not like you at all,”

He pushes your skirt up, palm flush against the curve of your ass. With the back of his fingers, Marcus feels the cotton as he leans in, lips mouthing the underside of your jaw. You feel the press of his clothed cock, hot and burning under the constricting fabric of his pants. Fingers curving around your chin, he turns your gaze to him and claims your lips with a bruising kiss. He licks the inside of your mouth, his growing stubble chafing your skin as he presses forward. You breathe in his scent, mint with a touch of cinnamon. Marcus swallows your moans, hips bucking forward while his hands rips your button up shirt wide open to reach your breasts.

You gasp as the clattering of buttons echoes within closed doors. The whisper of his name is short-lived in your mouth as he slips his tongue between your lips once more. Large hands push up your bra towards your neck and grab each tit to give it a firm squeeze. Your legs tremble, slick spreading across the seam of your underwear. The pleasant warmth of your arousal builds in your lower stomach, the fingers that draw short, quick circles around your nipples makes this feeling accelerate. Marcus pulls away and your head falls, the armrest digs into your stomach further as his hands find your hips. He grabs the waistband of your skirt and he grunts, hips rutting against you in an almost animalistic manner. The friction his pants provide burns your skin but you don’t have it into you to care.

You bite back your moans, fingers clawing the leather of the couch as you try to keep at least a bit of your composure.

Your battle doesn’t go unnoticed by him, and normally he would do whatever he can to make those sweet little noises even louder, but he knows this isn’t the place for that.

Instead, he makes your job a bit easier by covering your mouth with his hand. You breathe heavily, desire burns every nerve you have, it searches for a way out and makes your cunt throb painfully. Squeezing your eyes shut you focus on the feeling, you chase the flickers of pleasure and zero in on it, hoping that your vivid imagination of Marcus fucking you can push you over the edge. The coil tightens with his every clothed thrust, his cock sliding between the mounds of your ass, his fingers tighten around your mouth.

“Cum for me,” he rasps, mouth parted wide. “I know you can do it, baby. Cum,”

And you actually do.

Your body rhythmically jerks underneath him, eyes blown wide as you scream into his palm. Your orgams tears you apart, cunt violently pulsing around absolutely nothing as you involuntarily press into him. Marcus groans at the friction, which makes you moan in return, the sound makes your insides throb. The tremors of your orgasm never actually fades, the warmth spreading again and again as if it's an alarm reminding you that you were still hungry for more. Thank god for Marcus because during your mindless flailing, he had wrapped his strong arm around you, holding you in place as slick trickles down your thighs.

When your breathing returns to semi normal, his hand falls away from your mouth.

“You–You actually came,” he says, shocked. “You– Wow,”

A broken chuckle falls from your lips, “Well, you asked me to,”

As soon as the sentence leaves your mouth, he throws you to the couch. A shocked, choked sound tears from your throat as he climbs between your legs, his eyes a shade darker than normal. You lay there, in complete shock as your heart beats in your ears.

“So, I guess everything you do is to impress the boss,”

You moan, heat building between your legs once more. You feel dizzy, as if you were completely high on the pure essence that was Marcus Pine. Raising your hips, you grind against the outline of his cock, leaving a wet patch behind. Your eyes roll back, lips parting as you whine.

“Marc–Please,”

Even the sound of his zipper is enough to get you going. He slides your underwear to the side and pulls his cock out of his boxers, he licks his lips at the way you stare at his length. Wanting to give you a show, Marcus slowly strokes himself, he relishes in the way you want him. He adores the way you make him feel like a priority in your life, it makes his heart swell along with his cock.

Your head falls back when he finally, finally, sinks into you. Your whole body relaxes at the feeling of his cock filling you up, it’s a mind numbing sensation, your mouth opens wide, a string of moans and chants of his name falling out. He slides in so easily, his pelvis flush against you as your cunt flutters around him. Marcus groans and rolls his hips, burying his cock further inside you.

“Tell me how much you’re enjoying this,” he mutters, pulling almost all the way out and slamming back in. The force of it is enough to knock the air out of your lungs. “Does it feel good?”

“I love it,” you groan, eyes fluttering closed. “ ‘love you Marcus,”

The room stills. Marcus isn’t moving anymore and you’re confused as to why– that is until you realize what you just said. Your heart is thundering in your chest, a drop of sweat sliding down the frame of your face. Your eyes are still closed and you’re afraid to open them, you’re afraid to see his reaction. He’s going to break it off, you know it. He was still heartbroken about Lisbon. There was no way he’s going to let this slide. Breathing heavily, you can’t help the way your pussy continues to wrap tightly around him.

“I-I didn’t– I’m sor–”

The words die in your throat when Marcus begins to rock into you with long, hard strokes. His hips are relentless, his breathing uneven as he hugs you and pulls off the couch. He buries his face into your chest, kissing and licking your skin while canting his hips up into yours. You feel him deeper than before, the curve of his cock adding to the pressure you feel in your gut.

“Say it again,” he moans. “Say it,”

“Fuck– I–I love you, Marcus,” all thoughts desert you, all you want to do is make him happy. “I love you– ‘Love you–”

Your words slur, unable to say the three magical words he so desperately craves to hear. At this point you don’t even care who hears you. He feels so good inside of you, so thick and deep, you bury your lips into his shoulder, nipping at his skin as he pulls out another orgasm out of you.

A flash of white temporarily blinds you. Without even thinking you fully bite his shoulder, he groans at the way your teeth dig into his muscle, cock throbbing inside of you. Your body convulses and you’re left a whimpering mess, an ungodly amount of ‘I love you’s escaping your lips. The ceiling spins. It feels so good, the ecstacy of coming around his cock giving you all the serotonin that you need.

Marcus thrusts once more and pulls out with a huff, you watch hungrily as he fists himself and cum inside his hand, moaning your name. The sight sends another wave of arousal over you, more slick drips down your thighs and stains the couch. He’s breathless, chest languidly moving up and down as he tries to compose himself. He meets your gaze and smiles at you.

“I love you too.”

A/N: to be notified of future work follow @burnthoneymintsathenaeum and turn on notifications✨

#marcus pike x you #marcus pike x fem!reader #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike #the mentalist fanfiction #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike imagine #demonetized #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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atinylittlepain · 4 months

Text

PART TWO

marcus pike x f!reader

no masterlist for this man, good luck to this man - read part one tho it's fun

warnings | 18+ smut, sucking and fucking and also angst, mentions of sex work, marcus is a freak ass sugar daddy with a cunty lil blackberry and a bmw vroom vroom

note: this is OLD, this is from the ARCHIVE, leave me alone and also i love you muah kiss for you

@idolatrybarbie come get your juice

....................................

People are staring. Backpacks held in slack hands, necks craned around to catch a glimpse of the beemer pulled up at the curb outside the library, sleek silver rims glinting in the afternoon light. But it’s the man leaning up against the side of the car that’s really piquing people’s interest.

“Hey, baby, you ready to go?” A kiss to her cheek before his lips catch hers, a quick smack that she doesn’t let deepen under so many watchful eyes.

“Hi, Marcus, thank you for picking me up, but you could’ve just met me at my apartment, it’s no big deal.” He scoffs at that, his aviators slipping down his nose as he squints at her.

“You know I don’t like you riding public transportation, it’s not–” She cuts him off with another kiss, rubbing her palm up and down the lapel of his suit jacket.

“Not safe, I know. But I’ve been getting around just fine on the bus for a while now and I’ve yet to get murdered. So I don’t think you have to worry about it.” He chuckles, pressing his sunglasses back up before opening the passenger side door for her, all ease as he leans over the top of the door to steal one more kiss as she ducks into the BMW.

Things have been different, and good, since she met Marcus. She had been a bit surprised when he called only a few hours after he dropped her off at her apartment that morning.

“Do I look like a complete dope calling you this soon?”

“I kinda like it actually. You aren’t one to play games, huh?” A laugh crackling over the phone and a sigh.

“I guess I have a bit of a one-track mind. When I want something I gotta go after it– and I just sounded like a total tool saying that, didn’t I?”

“Coming from anyone else, I’d say yes. But I think you’re a little too sweet to really be a tool. So, are you gonna ask me out or what?” Another laugh, her smile broadening at the sound.

“You’re gonna be the boss here, aren’t you?”“Count on it, babe.”

It’s been a little over a month since he called, and they’ve been seeing each other a lot, enough for her to have learned a considerable amount more about Marcus Pike. First and foremost, he’s a romantic, almost painfully so, flowers and good morning texts, dates to the arthouse theater to see classic movies about love triumphant, followed by meals at restaurants that could wipe her rent money for the month with one main course. That’s the second thing she’s learned about him, he likes to take care of her. It had started innocently enough, after the first time he took her to one of those aforementioned swanky restaurants and she expressed concern that she had stuck out like a sore thumb in the upscale space, it feeling impossible for her to dress nice enough to fit in. He had her in the BMW and on the way to a trail of boutiques before she could even protest, and she ended that day with an overwhelming number of shopping bags, tufts of tissue paper stamped with the names of brands she had never dreamed of buying for herself. And it had only escalated from there, from meals out to fresh sets of paint and easels to jewelry dripping in silver and gold, infamous powder blue boxes with satin white bows that always reveal something fit to make her head spin it’s so dazzling. And today is no different, a gift waiting for her on the plush leather of the passenger seat, Marcus glancing at her as he weaves through DC traffic, trying to catch her reaction when she opens it.

“Oh my god, Marcus. It’s– it’s so lovely. It must have cost a fortune, though. I couldn’t possibly–” He cuts her off with a light squeeze to her thigh where his palm is curled, lips crooking in a grin though he keeps his eyes on the road.

“Don’t worry about that. Just wanted to get you something nice. And I was thinking you could wear it tonight to dinner, if you like it?” How this man manages to thread confidence with his shyness is still beyond her, an endearing combination that only makes her want to figure him out more. She leans over the console, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before settling back down in her seat.

“I love it and I’d love to wear it tonight. Thank you.” She holds the bracelet up, letting it catch the fading afternoon light, a perfect string of diamonds glinting and glaring in the sun. It’s the same dance every time, she says she couldn’t possibly, and he tells her she absolutely can, and then she ends up with something shiny and expensive around her wrist, her neck, dangling from her earlobes, or flickering on her fingers. All she can figure is that whatever higher-up government type he is, he must be really really high up to be throwing money around like this.

“I’ll be back down in a minute, just need to grab my bag and then I’m all yours.” It’s Memorial Day weekend, three whole days off for the both of them, and Marcus has asked her to spend it all with him, something she was more than happy to agree to.

She pauses for a moment in her bathroom, swiping quick knuckles under her eyes, her week of exams showing in the dark circles resting there, and the late nights at the club certainly aren’t helping either. It’s a touchy subject for them, for him, and she knows it. She tries to reassure him that it’s just business, good money, but it hadn’t been just business with him, and she understands why he always gets a bit stiff when she mentions that she has a shift.

“All set?” She hums an mmhmm, Marcus taking her bag from her to tuck into the trunk before they get on their way to his place.

Logan Circle, one of the trendiest neighborhoods in DC, beautiful brownstones framed by sleepy-looking trees and winding parks. It had caught her off guard the first time he brought her over to his place, leading her by the hand up the steps of one of those brownstones, all twining ivy and high-arched windows, all his. He had offered her a sheepish grin and a shrug when she had quirked her eyebrows at him, explaining it away as one of the perks from the Bureau.

She still feels a bit out of place amongst the sleek, dark wood, though he’s quick to distract her from it with a warm palm on her back and an easy smile.

“Reservation’s at seven so we have a little time to rest up if that sounds good to you?” His hands thread together around her waist, pulling her close enough to lay a kiss to her forehead.

“Is this your very nice way of telling me I look tired?” That’s another thing she’s learned about him, just how easy it is to throw him off, make him blush, a nervous laugh bubbling up in his chest.

“No, I just know how hard you’ve been working lately to get your school year wrapped up and– and at the club–” She gives him a look that he knows means don’t start. He had brought it up last week over the phone, when she couldn’t say yes to dinner plans because of a shift at Pandora’s.

“Well what if– what if you didn’t have to work anymore?”

“That’d be amazing, and while we’re at it, I’d also like a unicorn. It’s just not a possibility for me right now, Marc, I’m sorry.”

“But what if it was a possibility? I mean, what if I–”

“No.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“I have a pretty good idea actually. And my answer is no. Thank you, Marcus, really, but I’m not letting you spend any more money on me than you already are. I’m a big girl, baby, I can handle myself.”

He had let out a huff at that, but had begrudgingly let it go, though he has been dropping hints all week about his discontent with how much she’s still working, subtle, but prickly. But he holds his tongue now, smile simpering beneath his scruff as she slips her palms from his chest up to twine behind his neck.

“What I really want right now is a long shower. I feel like I’m covered in goo from the kids I was working with today.” His smile broadens at that, one of his hands slipping up to ghost along her collarbone

“I wasn’t going to say anything, but–” He gently scrapes his thumbnail along the top of her sternum, bringing away flecks of dried paint that she groans at.

“Oh my god, how did I miss that? I swear, these practicum hours make me rethink my career choice every time.” It’s an easy moment, a sigh and a smile shared that’s abruptly interrupted by his phone ringing, shoulders slumping as he reaches into his suit pocket to pull out his thrumming Blackberry, offering her a sheepish smile when he checks the caller ID before answering it.

“This is Agent Pike.” She presses a kiss to the corner of his jaw before slipping out of his hold as he starts talking quietly to whoever it is on the other end of the phone, showing herself upstairs with her bag in hand. She knows her way around by now, padding into his bedroom, only a little surprised by the garment bag laid out on his bed, shoebox resting on the ground next to it.

Just a peek, she unzips the garment bag, letting her hand run over the fabric inside, and quickly realizes that wherever they’re going to dinner tonight must be fancy, black silk slipping underneath her palm. She’ll have to scold him for it later, but for now, she’s too focused on washing off whatever little kid shmutz she managed to pick up during the day, making a beeline for his bathroom to get the water warmed up.

She groans when she steps under the warm water, sore muscles unraveling with the heat. There had been a few clients this week who had been particularly physical, and she’s certainly feeling it now. It’s rare for her to have to end a session early, most clients respectful and happy to follow the club’s rules, but one man in particular had obviously not been interested in being compliant, so much so that she had to call her boss in to escort him off the premises. She hadn’t been too phased by it though, just pissed more than anything else. But she’s been doing this for long enough to not let these things affect her, letting the majority of her good, easy to work with clients drown out the rare rotten one. And it isn’t like she’s going to be doing this for much longer either. One more year of school and she’ll be able to trade in her time at the club for a teaching license and a much different life.

“Did that happen at work?” She all but jumps out of her skin, Marcus’ voice startling her out of her thoughts as she turns to find him slipping into the shower with her, his bareness still sending her mind into a sweet haze. But she’s quick to snap out of it when his hand brushes over the bruise blooming on her thigh, his brow furrowing even more when she winces at the sensation.

“Oh, that? Um, yeah, but it’s no big deal, someone just got a little too worked up, that’s all.” He doesn’t like that one bit, his jaw shifting in a grind as he looks at her.

“Is it– are you ok?” She offers him a smile, tugging him closer so she can slip her palms over his chest, his hands settling on the curve of her waist.

“I’m fine, Marc, I promise. No harm, no foul.”

“Looks like harm to me.” He says it absentmindedly, his eyes still trained on the bruise, words a low murmur, his nostrils flaring as he takes a sharp inhale.

“Hey, I said I’m fine, alright? Let’s get cleaned up, babe, don’t worry about it.” She knows it’s a bit of a move, leaning in for a kiss that she easily deepens, trying to steer his mind away from worry and succeeding when she coaxes a little groan out of him with the way she tugs at his hair. But he’s not interested in pulling away too soon, licking hotly into her mouth, swallowing the gasp she lets out when her back meets the cold tile of the shower, a heady contrast to the way his body presses against her, slick and warm in the rising steam. He’s certainly gotten more confident with her, and while she likes this side of him, wandering hands and hard kisses, it’s the shyness that still peeks through that makes her heart flip in her chest.

“Wanna taste you. Can I, please?” She slicks his wet mop of hair back out of his face, a smile crooking across her lips as she nods.

“Mmhmm, I’m all yours. Want you to make me feel good.” She hadn’t been expecting him to drop down to his knees right then and there, a disbelieving laugh bubbling up in her chest when he does, his hands holding her firm and steady by her hips as he lays open-mouthed kisses across her stomach. But that laugh fizzles out when he dips his head lower, letting his mouth drag over the bruise on her thigh, making her cry out when he presses a hard kiss to it, like he’s trying to stamp it out with his lips. He doesn’t linger there long, laying a much sweeter kiss over the mottled skin before letting his mouth slide up to where she really wants him.

…

“Can you do me up?” She watches him in the mirror as he steps behind her, a low hum in his throat as he slips the zipper of her dress up. It’s perfect, classy, a smooth, simple slip that rests just at her shins and practically drips off the curves of her body it fits so well. He always gets it right, and she’s always surprised that he does.

“You look beautiful. And I have one thing to add.” She catches the glint of it in the mirror, his hands arcing over her head to bring the delicate necklace to rest against her clavicle. A string of diamonds that matches her bracelet. Before she can say anything, he presses a kiss to the side of her neck, his hands dropping down to smooth over her hips.

“Look like a million bucks, baby.”

“I better not be wearing a million bucks right now.” She says it jokingly, but when he doesn’t respond, only quirking an eyebrow at her, she turns in his hold with a scoff.

“Marcus, I swear to god, if you–”

“I’m kidding. Don’t worry about the cost, huh? Just think of it as a little– end of the school year gift, that’s all.” All she can do is let out a sigh, getting to work on his loose tie as he looks down through his lashes at her. He looks like a million bucks too, sleek, black suit over a crisp button-up, the scent of his cologne wrapping her up as she shimmies his tie into place.

“Well, thank you for the gifts. If your goal is to spoil me completely rotten, I’d say you’re succeeding.” His smile turns into a grin at that, stealing a quick kiss as she smooths down the collar of his shirt.

“That’s what I like to hear. Now c’mon, knowing you, you probably worked right through lunch and are starving right now. Let’s get some dinner in you.”

…

“Please follow me this way, Mr. and Mrs. Pike, your table is ready for you.” She nearly chokes at what the waiter calls them, though Marcus takes it in stride, offering her a smile and shrug as he guides her further into the restaurant with a palm on her low back.

She was right, it’s fancy as hell, all dim lights and rich, wood tables, men in suits and their wives decked out in their finest. And it only dawns on her that they fit right in once they’re actually seated at their own table, her eyes glancing around at this strange game of adult dress-up.

“We’ll do a bottle of your Riesling and one of your Shiraz as well, thank you.” White for her, red for him, he doesn’t even have to look at the menu to put in the order, and she can’t figure out just why that’s so hot.

“Did you hear about that new installment coming downtown? They’re calling it a revival of abstract expressionism meets modern minimalism. Apparently it’s hot.” She grins at the dramatic wag of his eyebrows as he speaks, leaning in closer to respond.

“I hadn’t heard about that, no. Sounds like whoever it is, they’re trying to do it all. We’ll have to go check it out, huh?” An outsider looking in on their relationship would be hard pressed to figure out just why they mesh well together, a decade apart and coming from two completely different worlds. But they come together well in peculiar ways, art being one of them. Marcus could talk for hours about the history, styles and forms rising and falling with time, and she can too, while also applying it all in her own work as a painter, something that he loves to hear her talk about, her process and projects. She’s still not sure why he’s so well-versed in it all, with such a keen eye, especially given her very vague understanding of his work as some sort of big wig FBI boss, but she loves that they can talk like this about something that bores most of her friends. They’ve gone out gallery hopping a few times together and, grand gestures and fancy dinners aside, it’s probably her favorite thing to do with him, wandering around downtown and seeing whatever art they can find.

Dinner starts to pass languidly by as they slip into conversation about the new gallery opening, unfurling into her own projects that she’s hoping to submit for showings once they’re finished. But as dessert is laid before them and her attention is drawn away from Marcus for a moment, her eyes land on someone across the restaurant, and her stomach sinks. While Marcus thanks the waiter, she can’t take her eyes off the man across the room, sitting with his wife, wearing the same suit he had on when he came into the club earlier that week, the same suit he left in when her boss kicked him out for not following the rules. And in a sickening twist, his eyes meet hers, an all too clear flash of recognition behind the smug grin that spreads across his face.

“Are you ok?” Marcus’ voice snaps her attention back to him and she tries to coax a smile onto her face, though she can’t help the way her eyes jerk over his shoulder and back to the man who’s still staring her down. And when she gives him no answer, Marcus finally cranes his neck around to see just what it is she keeps looking at.

“Do you– do you know him?” He looks back over his shoulder at the man who has finally stopped staring now that it’s caught Marcus’ attention. But before she can make some sort of excuse up, Marcus’ face falls in clear realization.

“Oh, I see. He’s one of your clients, isn’t he?”

“Fortunately, not anymore, he’s not.” It comes out before she can even think to stop herself, something dark flashing across Marcus’ face at her words.

“Are you telling me he’s the one who did that to you?” She doesn’t need an explanation to know what he means when he says that, her hand subconsciously going to rest over her thigh where the bruise lies beneath her dress. She feels frozen in place, her mind going blank as Marcus stares at her, his jaw hard-set and his eyes swimming. And when she gives him no response, he scoffs, turning in his seat, clearly ready to get up and march across the restaurant to where the man and his wife are just getting up to leave.

“Marc, don’t. Just– for me, please, don’t.” She wills him to stay in his seat with her hand placed over his on the table, letting out a sigh when he ultimately turns back around with a huff.

Total silence and downturned eyes, he’s quick to get the check and get them on their way back to his house. A cold prickle runs up her spine as they drive when his hand that normally rests easy and warm on her thigh remains on the wheel, not even a glance her way, his jaw ticking with what she can only assume is anger. And when they do get back to his place, and the silence continues, Marcus going into the kitchen to fix himself a drink without so much as looking at her, she assumes that it’s finally become too much for him, that she had been stupid to think this could work. She quickly and quietly slips into his bedroom, first placing her shoes back in the wrapping-paper-lined box before unfastening her bracelet and necklace and laying them on his dresser, though she figures they were never really hers to begin with. Her bag next, tucking back inside the things she had already unpacked before getting to work on the zipper of her dress.

“What are you doing?” She turns to find him standing in the doorway, lips parted and brow furrowed, and suddenly a thick heat creeps up her throat, stealing any strength from her voice.

“I thought I should probably go.” His face scrunches up at that and he steps further into the room, closing the distance between them, though he hesitates to reach for her, his hands flexing by his sides.

“What do you– what do you mean go? Where are you going?”

“Home, Marcus, I’m going home. I understand if this is too much–”

“That’s not– it’s not too much. I just– I hate it, ok? I really fucking hate it.” His tone is sharp, clipped, an edge of frustration that she hasn’t heard from him before and it makes her pause before asking him the only thing she can think of.

“My work? That’s what you mean? You hate my work?” He drags a hand through his hair, letting out a hard exhale as he shakes his head.

“I mean– yes. I hate that you have to put up with shit like that, with men like that. I hate that I lie in bed at night wondering what you’re doing and what person you’re doing it with, or to– fuck, I hate all of it. But I think what I hate the most is that you feel like you have to do it. And you’re too proud to let me get you out of it, something that I would be beyond elated to do, by the way.” Finished with his rant, he lets out a bitter laugh, the sound only fueling the anger she feels rising like bile in her throat.

“Oh, so what? Your solution is for you to just swoop in and– and play the fucking hero? Are you gonna put me on retainer, Marcus? Is that your plan? Just throw money at me so I’ll fucking stick around?” It’s awful, poison on her tongue that she doesn’t even mean, not really, and when he looks at her, face stricken and eyes glistening, any fire fizzles out into a sad whimper in her throat.

“Is that really what you think of me? That I’m just, what? Trying to buy you?” She keeps her mouth pressed in a thin line, afraid of what might come spilling out if she doesn’t, watching him slump down on the edge of the bed with a tired laugh.

“I just want to take care of you, that’s it. And I have the means to do it and fuck, I’m sorry if that comes across as me throwing money at you. But this is what I know how to do. I can take care of you, and I want to, and I wish that you’d let me.” Silence settles between them, thick and formless. Looking at him, his face tilted down to his hands in his lap, the curve of his frown, she feels herself being tugged toward something that, deep down, she knows is a terrible idea.

Barefoot, her half-unzipped dress hanging loosely on her shoulders, she pads over to him, standing between his legs, though he doesn’t look up until she coaxes him with her palm tucked along his jaw.

“I’m sorry, Marcus. That wasn’t fair, what I said. I just– I need you to try to understand this from my perspective. If I did– if I let you take care of me like that, I couldn’t help but feel trapped, and I’m sorry, I know that’s a terrible thing to say, but it has to be said. I’d feel like you’d have this– this thing hanging over my head and–” “I would never hold anything against you. That’s not how I work, and this isn’t some game to me. Fuck, I think you’re brilliant, alright? And I want you, so badly. I want you safe, and not having to worry about all this shit. I want you with me.”

“But what happens when you don’t want me anymore? What happens when I’ve quit my job and I’m dependent on you and one day you decide that you’re done with this, with me? What happens when the floor falls out from under me, Marc?”

“I’m not going to let that happen.” She can’t help the scoff she lets out, her hand falling away from his face as she takes a few steps back.

“That’s really easy to say right now, but one day this isn’t all going to be so new. What happens–” He cuts her off, standing up and taking her face in his hands, his eyes clear with a confidence that makes her shiver.

“If that time comes when either of us want to walk away, you have my word that I will make sure you land on your feet. I wouldn’t let you fall like that, I wouldn’t do that to you.” They’re nice words, words she wants to believe, though she can’t shake that feeling in her stomach like she’s about to go into complete free-fall.

“I’m asking you to trust me, that’s all.”

“That’s a lot, Marc.” His thumb is a soothing arc along her cheek, and she feels that same pull toward whatever this brink is that she’s about to tip over with him.

“I know, fuck, I know. But if you let me, I will give you everything, anything you want, anything you need. I just need you to trust me.” There’s nothing but certainty in his expression, and although there’s a part of her that wants to step away, to get out before she’s tangled up, she chooses not to listen to it, instead stepping over that edge and sending them both spiraling as she closes the space between them and presses her lips to his.

Where he deals in diamonds and dresses and dollars, care of a particular kind, she holds sway in sweat and skin and sensation, a delicate balance of power held in each other’s palms. Here, now, in the dim light of his bedroom, she holds dominion, no permission needed for the way her hands coax his tie undone, his jacket off, layer upon layer removed as she wills it. And when he finally stands before her in just his briefs, she guides his hands to the straps of her dress, letting him do the rest as the sleek fabric slips into a puddle around her feet. It never gets old, the way he looks at her, how his eyes darken, flickering heavy and hooded over her body, the way his throat bobs when his gaze finally finds hers.

“Could you– will you, um, will you wear those, for me?” He nods his head over to his dresser, to where she had laid out the jewelry he gave her, and she finds herself smiling at his timid request.

“Why don’t you put them back on me, baby?” He does, first clasping the bracelet around her wrist, laying a kiss to the jump of her pulse before delicately laying the necklace against her sternum, the cool bite of the chain causing her to shiver as he takes a step back to look at her, now dressed in nothing but a pair of panties and those glittering gifts.

“Lay down for me.” His eyes don’t leave her as he does, catching every move as she slips her panties down her legs before crawling up the bed to settle in his lap, her thighs framing his hips. It’s smooth and simple, a call and response in the way he tilts his chin up to meet her dipping down, open mouths willing and receiving of what the other is giving, a hot press of tongues and teeth. She grinds her hips down hard, letting the slick heat of her cunt drag over his boxers, his cock already straining against the fabric.

“Tell me what you want, baby, and it’s all yours.” She seals her words with a nip of her teeth over the hinge of his jaw, smiling against his skin when he lets out a long sigh as she continues to roll her hips with his.

“Just want you, fuck, wanna feel you, wanna be inside you, please.” Her smile goes cheshire bright at his breathless words, and she lets her hands slip down to drag along the waistband of his boxers.

“Always so polite for me, Marcus. Love that about you, gonna give you what you want.” A tap of her fingers to his hip is all he needs to shift so she can shrug his boxers down his legs, his cock resting flushed and heavy against his stomach as she settles herself back in a straddle over his hips, hovering just over where he really wants her. She can only tease him so much when she wants him just as bad as he wants her, so she wastes no time in bringing her palm to his throbbing length, dragging the tip of him through her dripping cunt before sinking down on him in one, languid, stretch. They both let out sighs that slip into moans as she stills with her hips seated against his, his fingers tensing and flexing into the curve of her ass where his hands are splayed. Still settling into the feel of him, a fullness that makes her head swim, she lays a smattering of kisses into his hair, coaxing his face up from where he had his forehead pressed against her sternum, his lips finding hers in a hot drag as she starts to move her hips.

It starts slow and sweet, finding an easy rhythm of riding him that has them both sighing at the slick drag. Marcus dips his head down, mouthing at the tops of her breasts, making her gasp when his teeth graze over the peak of one of her nipples, her back arching into his touch. But she snaps that sweetness into a snarl all at once, dragging her fingers back through his hair, tugging harshly to tilt his head back, a groan breaking in his chest as she starts to bounce on his dick.

“Want you to listen to me while I fuck you, baby, can you do that for me?” He nods his head as best he can with her fingers still tangled in his hair, holding his gaze steady on her.

“Yes, fuck– I can– can listen, just, please keep doing that.” She grinds her hips down on a particularly hard bounce, his eyes rolling back in his head as she continues to ride him.

“I’m gonna trust you. I’m choosing to trust you. But let me make a few things very clear to you.” She tries to keep her voice steady, stern, though it still comes out a bit breathless with the way she’s working herself on his throbbing cock, biting back a whimper as he grazes that just right spot inside her.

“I am not going to be your pet, do you understand me? That’s not what this is going to be. If you want a kept woman, find someone else.” He lets out a slurred chant of ok and I understand intermixed with a few choice curses, his blunt fingernails digging half-moons into her ass, hips canting up to meet hers with each bounce.

“I like you, a lot. And I want to be with you, fuck– and I’m grateful for what you’re giving me–” A broken moan keeps her from finishing her sentence, sensation starting to make her thoughts swim when he plants his feet into the mattress to start thrusting harder, their hips mashing together every time, pleasure settling heavy and tight in her spine.

“But I’m still going to work– not at Pandora’s– but a more, christ– normal job. Making my own money. I’m not going to be some– credit-card swiping– spoiled little– trophy girlfriend.” Each phrase is said with another pass of her hips, both of them letting out sharp gasps with each thrust, and she holds it together just long enough to get out what she wants to say, finally letting go of her grip in his hair, instead pressing her palms into his chest to get him to lay down fully as she seeks out that snapping point of pleasure. Marcus brings a hand around, his thumb finding her clit in a hot drag that sets a moan loose in her chest, her cunt spasming around his cock.

“I understand, I do, I swear. Please, baby, wanna feel you– want you to come so bad. Let me have it– let me have it all.” She unravels with his rasped-out pleas, back arching in a perfect curl of pleasure as his hands guide her in a close grind, following after her with a clipped groan of her name, the warmth of him making her shudder as she slumps down against his chest. They lay like that for a while, skin sticking slick, their heaving chests pressing against each other in a shared rhythm as he runs his palms up and down her spine. A silent understanding sealed in sweat and salt.

“So you’ll– you’re gonna stay?” She could laugh, it’s such a ridiculous question for him to ask after she just all but rode him to hell. But when she lifts her head to meet his gaze, seeing the very serious scrunch of his brows, that laugh dies in her throat with the realization that he’s genuinely asking, and genuinely worried about the answer. Ducking down, she first presses a kiss to his chest before leaning back up to slot her lips with his, simple and sweet.

“I’m not going anywhere, Marcus, I promise.”

…

“Are you gonna get that?” Marcus looks at her over the rim of his coffee mug, brow quirking at her question.

“Why don’t you go see who it was?” She snorts at that, watching his eyes flicker as he takes another swig of coffee.

“Uh, I’m not wearing pants. And also, I’m not the one who lives here.” He’s putting on a show, she knows it, humming as if in thought at her statement, the corners of his lips twitching in a stifled smile.

“It’s early, baby, no one’s gonna see. Just go take a look for me, huh?” He can no longer hold back his grin, going all crooked with whatever scheme he’s got cooked up for her.

“Alright, fine, I’ll play along. But you’re cheesy, you know that, right?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” She huffs at him, finally getting up from the kitchen table to pad over to the front door. She figures it’s probably flowers, or maybe another garment bag for whatever he has planned for them today. Not wanting to give Marcus’ neighbors a show, she cracks the door just enough to peek her head out, her jaw dropping at what she sees.

“Oh my god.” Silver, glossy, and gleaming in the early morning light. A sleek silhouette, and that unmistakable hood ornament perched right over the front grille, the Mercedes Benz insignia shining proudly. And on the roof of the car sits the biggest, gaudiest red bow she’s ever seen.

“What do you think?” She turns around to find Marcus standing behind her, a set of car keys dangling from one of his fingers, grinning from ear to ear.

“I think you’re lucky you’re cute. Seriously, Marcus, this is– this is–” He cuts her off with a smacking kiss, pressing the car keys into her hand as he does.

“This is me taking care of you. No more metrorail, no more bus. You’re gonna be a woman who drives from now on.”

“I– you– you’re not gonna take no for an answer, are you?” He tilts his head at her, eyes crinkling up as he slips his arm around her waist, pulling her away from the door and into his chest.

“On this? No, no I’m not.” It’s just a touch of arrogance, in the slant of his smile, the way he hums a laugh when she shakes her head at him, giving a half-hearted smack to his chest.

“Hmm, well aren’t you something else.”

“Oh baby, I’m just getting started.”

#marcus pike #marcus pike smut #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike fluff #marcus pike fic #marcus pike angst #marcus pike imagine #marcus pike au #whatta man

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fandomgirlz01 · 11 months

Text

Don’t Leave Me Pt. 1

Marcus Pike X Reader

Imagine on my fandom instagram?: No

Prompt?: No

Request?: No

Requested prompt?: No

Edited: Yes

Word count: 5,153

Ko-fi

Masterlist

Warnings here

You can listen to the story be read out loud here {Coming Soon}.

Post Date: May 28th 2023

Post Time: 3:16 pm

Summary: Together Marcus and the reader lead their team through a case. They get ambushed by part of Marcus’ past which makes the reader start to question things, but something goes wrong while they're out in the field.

Third Person Pov:

After the whole Teresa thing and moving to D.C., Marcus had tried so hard not to get into other relationships, but then he met y/n. It was only about three weeks after everything and he’d still been feeling heartbroken– but who wouldn’t when a relationship fails as bad as it did? He’d walked into work that morning and the day went as normal as usual, until later when he was getting ready to go home.

He remembers it like it was yesterday, when in reality it’s now been almost four years. He had just finished packing up his bag, getting ready to turn out the light on his desk as his phone went off. It was his boss asking for him to come to his office.

Marcus’ Pov: *Flashback*

“Marcus, would you please come to my office? I have something important to discuss with you,” my boss's voice floods over the phone and I sigh as I move my hand from the lamp to the phone.

“I’ll be right there, sir,” I promise him as I hold down the button that lets me reply to him before letting go.

I wait a moment to see if there’s any response, but it stays quiet. I grab my bag, switch off the light on my desk, and start to walk to my boss’s office.

I take the elevator to his floor, walk down a few halls, then start to walk up to the door and go to open it.

“Hold on, Marcus. Mr. Hudson is in a meeting,” Destiny, his secretary, stops me in my tracks.

“Oh really? He called me in to see him,” I tell her and she shakes her head, smiling at me.

“He did? He didn’t inform me. Hold on, let me page him and see,” she tells me. I nod and put my hands in my pockets.

“Mr. Hudson?” she questions as she presses the page button down.

“What is it, Destiny?” he responds and she looks back up at me.

“Marcus is here. I wasn’t too sure if you wanted me to send him in or not,” she replies and there’s a pause as she waits.

“Yes. Yes. Send him in,” he responds before we can hear him release the page button.

“Ok, Marcus, you heard him. Go right on in,” she tells me as she waves me off to the door.

“Ok. Thanks,” I reply before taking a step forward and opening the door.

I pop my head in and leave a little knock on the door. Mr. Hudson pauses as he looks away from someone who’s sitting in the right chair in front of his desk.

“Ahh, Marcus. Come in, come in. Take a seat,” he tells me as he motions to the left chair.

“Uhh, ok. Is there something wrong, sir?” I ask him and he shakes his head with a small smile.

“Nothing's wrong, my boy. I just wanted to introduce you to your new partner. She just landed half an hour ago and will be starting on with you tomorrow,” he informs and I nod, even though I’m very shocked.

“Y/n, this is Marcus, Marcus, this is y/n. Your new partner,” Mr. Hudson introduces us.

I am immediately in awe when I see the girl sitting beside me. She smiles and says something before holding her hand out to me. I shake out of my daze and give her a confused look.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” I ask and she lets out a giggle that sounds heavenly to my ears, making it easily become my new favorite melody.

“I said, hi. I’m y/n,” she reiterates and I again shake my head.

“Right. I’m sorry, I’m Marcus. It’s nice to meet you. I’ve just had a really long day,” I reply as I reach out and shake her hand.

“It’s ok. Really, I get it,” she promises me with a soft smile that makes my hands feel a little clammy, but I ignore it and remember my pact I made with myself when moving here.

“Don’t take this as an insult,” I comment as I take a quick look at y/n and she shakes her head. “But sir, why do I need a partner? I thought we said I wouldn’t need to have one. That I’d be head of department,” I reiterate what we talked about before my move.

“We did, but I just thought that you have so much to do that it could possibly take some off of your back. Don’t worry you're still head, she’s just here to take a little pressure off,” he explains as he gestures to her and I shake my head in denial.

“There’s not too much for me to do,” I petulantly argue even when I know he’s right.

“Marcus, my boy… not to add insult to injury, but you look tired and overwhelmed. You’ve only been here three weeks and you’re already behind,” he explains, pausing to give me a quick questioning look.

“I’m not overwhelmed…” I again argue and he sighs, shaking his head.

“Look, Marcus. You are and I see that. This is your new partner and that’s final. She’s only here to help you. Came just to do that. Please let her help you,” he begs me and I sigh reluctantly.

“Ok. I guess,” I agree and Mr. Hudson grins.

“Great! She starts tomorrow morning. You’ll be sharing an office, so don’t be surprised if there’s an extra desk in there in the morning,” he adds on and I see y/n smile an award-winning smile.

“I’m excited to get started, sir. Thank you so much for the opportunity. I won’t let you down,” she promises him and I frown at the way she says it.

It’s almost like she’s making a point known as she says it and he just hums while nodding. She quickly goes to get up, but Mr. Hudson stops her by holding his hand out.

“Hold on, y/n, we’re not done here. Marcus, you can go,” he informs me and I nod before getting up.

“It was so nice to meet you, Marcus. I hope we can grow a good friendship,” she sweetly tells me and I can’t help but smile at her.

“It was nice meeting you too, y/n. Me too, you seem sweet. I’m sure we’ll get along great. See you tomorrow,” I reply warmly and she smiles up at me, making my stomach do flips. I quickly push the feeling aside as I so desperately try not to ruin the pact I made with myself after moving here.

~End of Flashback~

Marcus’ Pov:

I sit leaning back in my office chair as we work on the case we’ve been vigorously working on for almost a week. After being in the office for a few hours I can’t help but let my thoughts wander. I think over the last four years and I smile when y/n —who’s now my girlfriend— lets out a sigh while rubbing her face.

After she became my partner, it took a while for us to get to know one another —because I so obviously closed myself off after Teresa— but eventually y/n got me to open up, making us become closer and closer until finally I asked her out. She got me to open up in ways I never had before. I eventually told her all about Teresa and we both agreed to take things slowly. Never did I imagine this is where we’d be almost four years later.

“Knock, knock,” Ezra Bradford, our tech person, announces as she stands in the door frame. She pops her head in, breaking me out of my daze down memory lane.

“What’s up, Ez?” I ask as and y/n and I look up at her.

“We caught the money trail. We found them…” she tells us and I look at y/n, who looks at me in almost excitement.

“Well, where does it lead to?” Y/n asks and Ezra takes a hesitant pause.

“Well, that’s the thing. It leads back to Texas,” Ezra hesitantly tells us and y/n's excitement quickly fades away.

“Welp, I guess this means we’re going to Texas,” I point out with a shrug and y/n sighs.

“Ok. We’re going to Texas. Marc, do you wanna contact them? Or should I?” Y/n asks me and I shrug as I stand from my chair, stretching out a bit.

“Either way. Come on, I’ll drive,” I tell her as I reach forward and grab the keys off her desk.

She lazily stands up, looking like the epitome of tired and lets out an exhausted huff. I chuckle before pulling her into my side. We walk out of the room, coming to a stop just in the hall of the office we share before closing the door up and locking it. I then turn and pull y/n back into my side, swaying with her lightly as I look back at Ezra over y/n’s shoulder.

“You can tell the boss, yeah?” I ask Ezra, giving her a questioning look and she nods.

“Yeah. I’ll have him get the jet ready for you too,” Ezra agrees with a firm nod before pushing her glasses up.

“Can you send the presentation to me, please, Ezra?” Y/n asks her and Ezra nods in agreement again.

“Sleepy?” I ask as I look down at y/n, who’s now cuddled into my side and she nods tiredly as she lets out a very small yawn.

“It’s been a very long week,” she bemoans and I agree with a soft hum as I leave a kiss at her temple.

“Well, you can sleep on the plane,” I tell her and she nods again as she lets out a very quiet hum of agreement.

“Alright, we’ll hopefully see you in a few days, Ez,” I tell her as I look back up at her over y/n’s shoulder again and she nods.

“Go get the bad guys. I can send over whatever information you guys need to Texas’ tech guy. Just say the words and I’ll do it,” she promises and with that, she gives us a small goodbye and scurries off.

“I’ll contact Abbott right now,” Y/n comments, using her phone to send a message to Abbott as she continues to tiredly walk beside me.

We start down the first hall of many halls we have to go down to get to the car garage as I guide —more like pull— y/n with me. We walk a few more minutes before coming up to the parking garage, then walk the four rows of vehicles and find our SUV that we share. Her phone pings as I unlock the doors and she gets into her seat while looking at it.

“Abbott says they’ll be happy to help. He’ll inform the team and we can brief them when we get there,” she informs me and I nod as I start the car.

“Babe. You want your sunglasses?” she asks me as she holds them up and I turn with a smile at her as she gracefully smirks at me.

“You know me better than myself,” I tell her and she smiles, giggling softly and putting her head against the headrest. She gives me an endearing look that makes me grin back at her.

“Of course. I mean, we have been partners for almost four years now…” she jokingly rolls her eyes and I snicker at her.

“And you’ve been more then my partner since I met you,” I tell her with a soft look, crossing my features.

“Awe, Marc. That’s so sweet, babe. You’ve been so much more to me too. I love you,” she replies with a grin that makes my heart soar.

“I love you too, baby,” I parrot her softly as I lean across the center console and give her a peck on the lips.

“Go bags are in the back, right?” she asks me after I pull away and I nod as I finally take my sunglasses from her hand.

“Ok. Well, let’s get this show on the road then,” she says jokingly and I chuckle.

I shake my head as I turn and start the SUV. Once it’s up and running, I make quick work of pulling out of our spot before driving us out of the parking garage. I drive for a while before finally pulling up to the private FBI airport and park.

After parking, I look over at y/n to see that she’s asleep. I smile fondly before getting out of the car and going around to her side. I open her door and lightly rub her leg.

“Hmmm, Marc, don't wake me, not yet,” she whispers out and I chuckle, shaking my head.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but you have to. We have to get on the Jet, then you can go right back to sleep,” I tell her and she groans, shaking her head.

“Come on, honey. Just think of it. The faster you get on the plane, the faster we can try my favorite breakfast place in Texas. You know the one I’ve told you all about?” I bargain with her and she groans again.

“You mean the one with the awesome pancakes?” she asks softly and I nod.

“Yup. The one with all the different pancake flavors. I bet you’ll end up with the banana blueberry,” I exaggerate while bouncing my eyebrows at her.

Intrigued, she sits up and looks down at me, raising an eyebrow. I laugh and help her out of the car.

“Marcus Mario Pike, the hell is so funny?” she asks with a scowl that only makes me laugh a little harder.

“Nothing, honey. Nothing at all,” I tell her as I reach up and smooth out her hair for her.

“Awe, I had sleepy head again, didn’t I?” she asks with a pout as I pull my hand back with a soft smile crossing my face.

“Yes you did, but I find it rather cute,” I respond and she huffs, crossing her arms.

“Cute, my butt. Marcus, I am not cute when my hair is all frizzy and sticking up in the air,” she argues as I walk to the back of the SUV and open the trunk with her trailing after me.

“Oh, but sweetheart, that is where you are dead wrong,” I argue back as I pull our go bags out of the back before closing the trunk.

“I really don’t get how you see my half-dead asleep looks cute,” she snorts out in amusement and I smile as we both turn to start towards the jet.

“I find everything about you cute, sweetheart. Just accept that nothing about you is even remotely close to anything else in my eyes,” I tell her and she stops to scoff, shaking her head as she crosses her arms.

“I will never understand you, Marcus,” she huffs and I smile, chuckling before pulling her into my side as I leave a kiss on the side of her forehead.

“Yes. But you love me and as you always point out, always will,” I joke with her as we start walking towards the jet now.

“Well, you got me there. I have no comeback for that one,” she admits and I burst out laughing as we finally come up to the jet.

“Sir. Ma’am,” the pilot smiles before stepping aside and gesturing to the open jet door.

“After you, ma’am,” he says with a flirty smile directed at y/n and I feel red hot anger take over, but shove it down.

“Thank you. Marc, baby, sit with me?” she asks as she turns to me and I smile.

“Of course, babe. I’ll always sit next to you,” I tell her and she grins, almost beaming as she pulls me into the jet.

She pulls me in and I put our go packs down as she picks a place to sit before pulling me down in the chair next to her. She then cuddles up to me and I wrap my arm around her shoulder as the pilot now walks in.

“Ok. I’m going to get started with take off. All I ask is that you two be buckled for the ascent, and then when we’re in the air you can roam around all you want,” the pilot explains as if we haven’t done this before, but I just nod in agreement to appease him.

“Ok. I hope you enjoy the flight,” he says with a grimace as he slowly backs away before turning around and disappearing behind the door of the cockpit.

“Well, that was awkward…” y/n whispers and I let out another laugh as I rub her arm.

“Yes, it was,” I agree with her and she hums sleepily.

“I love you Marcus, don’t you forget it. It’s no one else for me,” she tells me as she nuzzles onto my neck, making me chuckle as it tickles, but I gladly welcome it.

“And I love you too, sweetheart. It’s no one else for me either,” I parrot her and she smiles softly as she pulls the blanket off the back of the chair.

“I’m going to get some sleep. You should too, babe,” she tells me as she closes her eyes and I snuggle her into my side.

“I think I may just do that,” I hum in agreement as sleep slowly starts to take me over.

I wake up and look around with my eyes squinted in confusion for a moment, before fully remembering where I am. I look at the clock that’s up on the wall and deduce that I only slept for an hour out of the three hour flight. I rub at my tired eyes with my free hand before reaching into my pocket and pulling my phone out.

Y/n subconsciously snuggles farther into my side, making me smile as I look down at her. I lightly rub her arm for a moment, hoping it’ll lull her back into a deeper sleep before turning back to my phone. I use my phone for a while before I get pulled out of my thoughts when the pilot's door opens.

“I just wanted to inform you that we are about to land in Texas,” he tells me and I nod at him.

“Thank you,” I reply to him and he nods once more before heading back to the cockpit.

I turn my head to look back at y/n, who still sleeps soundly against my side. I move my shoulder a bit, making it nudge her and she groans before just going back to sleep. I softly nudge her again and she groans again before frowning.

“Marc, what?” she mutters out in a grumpy tone, making me smile.

“I hate to do this to you again, sweetheart, but we’re about to land,” I tell her softly and she groans as she finally opens her eyes.

“Man. I’m so tired lately. Don’t know why,” she comments as she sits up.

“I know. After this case, we should take some time off. Get you rested up,” I propose and she hums softly as she gives me a tired look.

“That sounds nice, babe,” she agrees and I smile softly at her.

I quickly pull her into my side again and leave a kiss on her forehead before she nuzzles into my neck. We stay cuddled up until we’ve fully landed and stand up. I grab our go packs as the door to the jet opens.

Together we walk off the jet and to the car they have waiting for us. I grab the keys from the guy who holds them out for me and give him a thank you as I slap his shoulder. He gives me a nod and smile before walking off.

I get into the driver's seat and y/n already sits in the passenger seat. She gives me a huge smile before I start the car up.

“Do you remember the way there or do you want me to put it in the navi?” Y/n asks me and I shake my head as I turn the blinker on to pull out of the airport parking lot.

“I think I got it, babe. Thanks, though,” I tell her and she nods before sitting back in her seat.

“I’ll get the briefing presentation loading up. Ezra should have sent it over,” y/n tells me as she pulls her laptop out.

“I’m sure she did. Ezra’s very thorough,” I add and she grins.

“That she is,” she agrees with me.

I drive for a while longer and before I know it, I’m pulling into the parking garage of my old work office. I pull into the parking lot and park before turning the car off. Y/n quickly unbuckles and starts getting out of the car.

I, however, freeze as I realize who I’m going to have to see when I walk in. Y/n seems to notice that I’m not getting out and opens her door again. She slides back in and gently puts a hand on my bicep, but it still makes me jump as it pulls me out of my daze.

“Marcus, are you okay? If you can’t do this, I can handle it. You go get the hotel that I’m sure we’re going to need,” she tells me and I shake my head.

“No. I’m not leaving you alone to deal with my ex-fiancé,” I inform her and she smiles softly at me.

“Marcus. If you can’t go in, that’s okay, baby. I can do it. It’d be hard, but I’m sure I’d be fine,” she again tries and I shake my head again.

“No. No. I just needed a moment. I’m okay. I’ll come in with you,” I promise her and she smiles.

“Ok. If you’re really sure, my love. Let’s go,” she agrees with a soft nod before getting back out of the car.

I sigh once at the thought of how lucky I have gotten and shake my head before getting out of the car myself. I meet her around the back of the car and open the trunk door. I pull my go bag out and she grabs hers before putting it on her shoulder as I do mine.

She goes around the car on her side and heads for the building with me right behind her. She stops at the front of the car to look at the building before looking at me.

“We do this together, yeah?” she asks me as she holds her hand out for mine.

“Together,” I agree with a smile as I grab her hand.

With one last smile from her, we walk through the door. The door monitor stands when he sees us as he asks for IDs and we both pull them out. He looks over them for a second before stepping to the side and nodding as he motions for us to move on.

We walk farther in and soon I’m walking down familiar hallways. I show y/n where to go as we hit the first floor.

“Did Abbott tell you where he was meeting us or where to meet up with him?” I ask her as we walk and she turns to look at me.

“He said to come to his office and he’ll do the rest from there. Said you’d know where to go?” she tells me and I nod.

“Yup, I know exactly where it is. Maybe we’ll get lucky and not run into anyone on the way,” I respond to her and she smiles, squeezing my hand.

I then lead her through the building and to the elevator. I press the button to Abbott’s floor and lean back against the rail. She cuddles into my side and I put my arm around her.

Once the elevator comes to a stop, we wait a moment for the doors to open. After they do, we walk through them and into the big room. We look around all the desks, but nobody seems to look up so I just quickly start to lead her down the hall to Abbott’s office.

“This place is so huge. Definitely more beautiful than our office. I see why you liked working here,” y/n comments as she looks around while we walk.

We soon come up to Abbott’s door and I leave a knock on it. We wait just a few minutes before we hear him tell us to come in. With one last squeeze of y/n’s hand, I reach out and open the door before walking in.

“Ahhh, Marcus. It’s so good to see you again. How’ve you been?” Abbott asks as he looks up from his desk as we walk in.

“Good, good. This is y/n, my partner and girlfriend,” I tell him as I introduce y/n while pointing at her.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. Marcus, you picked a beautiful girl,” Abbott politely gives an affirmation to y/n that makes her smile.

“Thank you, sir, but I wouldn’t say I picked her. More like she picked me,” I comment and y/n blushes.

“No one picked anyone, we simply were made to meet one another,” she tells me and I smile before pulling the seat out for her.

“Of course we were, sweetheart,” I tell her as I sit in the other seat.

“Well, Marcus, how can we help you?” Abbott asks with a smile as he changes the subject.

“Well, sir. We need your team to help us find a group of guys that stole a very important piece of work from the Washington museum. We tracked them here and need to get to them before they trade the piece,” I explain and he nods.

“Do you have everything you need to brief them ready?” he asks and y/n nods.

“Yes. I loaded it up on the way here. All I need is your tech person to help show me how to connect it to your database,” y/n replies and Abbott nods as he picks his phone up off the receiver.

“Jason, I need you in briefing,” Abbott talks through the phone and he nods, humming before putting the phone down again.

“Jason is on his way. He’ll show you how to connect. I’ll contact the team and have them all meet in briefing,"Abbott informs us with a light smile and y/n nods before standing up.

“Thank you, sir,” she tells him with a smile and I stand up alongside her.

“Come on, sweetheart. I know the way to briefing,” I tell her as I put a hand on her back as I guide her out of the room.

We walk out of his office and straight to the briefing room right across from it. As we walk in, Jason stands there with a smile that grows wider when he sees me.

“Agent Pike! So good to see you again,” he tells me before holding a hand out for a shake.

“And you, agent Wylie, how've you been, buddy?” I ask him as I shake his hand.

“Busy as always, how have you been in Washington?” he questions and I smile.

“Life’s been going pretty good. By the way, this is my partner and girlfriend, y/n,” I introduce y/n, putting a hand on her back.

“Oh that’s great news, how long have you two been together?” Jason asks with a smile at y/n.

“Four years in a week,” y/n proudly tells him and my face falls.

“That’s next week? Honey, I’m glad you said something now. I almost forgot,” I tell her and she playfully rolls her eyes at me.

“Marcus, baby, it’s ok. I understand, we’ve been working on this case so much lately. It’d be hard not to forget what day or week it is with how much we’ve been in office the last few weeks,” she tells me as she squeezes my arm softly, making me smile.

“I truly don’t deserve this girl,” I joke with Jason and he laughs.

“Ok. What is it you guys need?” Jason asks and y/n smiles.

“Can you show me how you guys connect your computers to the main screen?” Y/n questions as she holds her computer out to him.

“Sure! I’d love to!” Jason replies as he takes her computer.

“It's really simple. All you do is come over to the podium here and take this cord. Then just plug it in,” he tells her while showing her as I sit on the front table and she smiles enthusiastically.

“Wow, that’s so much simpler then what we have,” she comments and he looks at her, shocked.

“But you're DC. Isn’t DC like the highest building? Shouldn’t they have, like super advanced technology?” he asks and she giggles, shaking her head.

“You would think they did,” but unfortunately they do not,” I add on and y/n nods.

“It’s actually the worst. It always crashes and fails,” y/n explains and Jason shakes his head.

“And the higher ups don’t fix it?” he asks, making y/n laugh again.

“Nope. They care more about what’s in their offices than ours,” she answers him and he sighs.

“Dang, that sounds annoying,” he comments and y/n nods.

“Oh it most definitely is, but we love the job so we make it work,” I tell him with a shrug and he smiles.

“Well, at least you love it. That’s gotta count for something, right?” he asks and y/n nods, smiling.

“Oh it most definitely does,” she tells him before a throat clears from behind me.

I turn around to see who it is and in the time I’ve been here, I really had forgotten about why I had been apprehensive to come back. That is, until now. My face falls at the site of Patrick and Lisbon holding hands as they look over us. For a split second, I freeze and just stare behind me as I look them over, noticing shiny rings on their fingers.

I stay frozen, unable to move or speak as I look over at the girl I once loved now with someone else. It’s then when I feel another hand grab onto mine that I snap back to earth and turn to see y/n. She smiles softly up at me and suddenly all my anger washes away. I squeeze her hand to let her know I’m fine.

I give her a questioning look and she nods subtly. So with one last sigh I close my eyes before turning to them and opening them to look at them again.

“Patrick, Theresa,” I greet them with a small curt nod.

To Be Continued…

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thetriumphantpanda · 10 months

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Stolen | Marcus Pike (Day One)

Series Summary | A week on from the biggest museum theft in history, you find yourself shipped to D.C. to track down the most important British archaeological artefacts, stolen from right under your nose. You didn't plan on Special Agent Marcus Pike getting under your skin in the process. Special Agent Marcus Pike didn't plan on falling for you either.

Pairing | Marcus Pike x Archaeologist/Curator F!Reader

Word Count | 4.4k

Warnings | Marcus being the biggest and best gentleman ever, some flirting, food consumption, but nothing else I can think of.

Authors Note | OKAY. So, I watched The Mentalist and IMMEDIATELY knew I needed to give this sweet boy his happy ending, so here we are. This fic is super self-indulgent so I apologise in advance. I'm currently completing my master's degree to become an archaeologist so that's where this really comes from. This is a reader insert and whilst there will be very few physical descriptions in this fic, it is assume reader is British, although not explicitly stated, and she has the nickname 'Jones' - guess where that one came from? 👀 If you like this then please consider reblogging, commenting or popping into my ask! I'd love to hear from you all! And a massive thank you to my darling @morning-star-joy for being the best beta for this fic, ilysm.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The ticking of the clock is starting to annoy you. It’s silent in the room, three people, including you, sat around waiting for the appearance of the team of people who were hopefully about to make all your problems go away. They’re late, which is even more annoying, because every second lost to waiting for these people are seconds lost trying to locate what had been stolen from you.

You pull at the dry skin around your thumbnail, pulling it a little too far, drawing blood. You suck the side of your thumb into your mouth to stem the bleeding which helps, before you’re checking the watch on your wrist, annoyance bubbling beneath your skin. Fifteen minutes late and counting.

Your assistant is sitting next to you, writing God knows what in her notepad. Normally her eagerness to please and her exceptional organizational skills were welcome by you, but the scratching of her pen on the paper is just adding to your irritation. Sat next to your assistant Lizzie, is Peter, an aging Metropolitan Police officer who is no doubt completely out of his depth. He’s starting to bald, and age had not been kind to his face, which is wrinkled and makes him seem far older than he already is. When you’d first met a week ago, he’d introduced himself and told you he hoped this would be his career defining case to crack because he was less than a year away from retirement and his hefty pension.

What he had wished to be an easy case had turned into something much more complicated than anyone could have imagined, which is why the three of you were now sitting in a glorified glass cage in Washington D.C. Waiting for someone to hopefully help crack the case and crack it quickly. Although your boss wasn’t here, you could feel him breathing down your neck.

Another look at your watch and it’s now twenty minutes late.

“This is ridiculous.” You mumble, turning in your seat to look around at the office outside of the meeting room you were in.

Men in suits wandering around with folders in their hands, women sat at desks typing their way through reports. There’s what you assume to be an intern walking hastily through the bank of desks, dropping mugs of coffee down to people who don’t even acknowledge his presence. Then, you spot two men walking towards your meeting room with purpose. They’re deep in conversation with each other, one holds a similar manila file as the rest of the office, the other, older and more handsome is the one who pushes open the door.

“Sorry for making you wait,” God his accent is jarring, what you wouldn’t give to be back in London, surrounded by your own people, “We were just catching up on the files.”

Pete is the first to stand, he shakes the hand of the older man who introduces himself as Marcus Pike, head of the Arts Crime division here in DC. The younger man is Steven, his partner. There’s already a strange air of respect between the men, law enforcement officer to law enforcement officer, even if they do work on completely different sides of the ocean.

Lizzie introduces herself quietly until they fall to you, “Nice to meet you both,” You say stiffly, reaching out to shake their hands and tell them your name, “I’m the Curator of the department of Britain, Europe and Prehistory at the British Museum, I’m hoping you might be able to help us.”

Marcus motions for you all to take your seats, taking hold of the folders from Steven, “We’ve read the files but maybe you could take us through what happened?” He’s directing the question toward Pete, because of course he is, but Pete is deferring to you.

“About a week ago,” You begin, opening your own files, “There was a break-in at the British Museum as I’m sure you’re aware from your own files,” You shift some papers around to find the clutch of photographs, “Highly sophisticated from what Pete has been able to tell us – the thieves managed to cut out CCTV coverage and the alarms before they even entered the museum, which meant no-one knew anything was wrong until I came in the next morning to find half of my collection gone.”

“What exactly was taken?” Marcus asks, thumbing through his files to find the answer that obviously isn’t there – if this lot can’t put together a case file properly, how the hell are they going to help you?

“The most recognizable would be the Sutton Hoo helmet,” You slide a photo of it across the table to him, “Anglo-Saxon, incredibly important archaeological find, along with this gold belt buckle from the same collection,” Another photograph is slid across the table to him, “And this purse lid and the collection of coins found within it.” The final photograph is passed to him.

“You have any leads?” Marcus speaks, again mainly towards Pete, who again, defers to you.

“We managed to pick up this CCTV from the pub across the road, which shows the group of people loading the items into a van,” You slip the print outs across to him, “Pete and his team managed to track the van to a depot just outside of Heathrow airport, that was raided less than twenty-four hours after the heist, but it was empty,” you sigh, sliding more grainy CCTV printouts over the table, “Then we’ve picked them up getting a flight here to D.C. but after that, the trail has gone as far as we can follow, hence why we’re here.”

This time Marcus speaks directly to you, “Any idea on motive?”

You shake your head, “We can’t figure it out if I’m being honest,” You massage your temple, a familiar ache brewing behind your eyes, “We know a lot of our collection in the museum is contested, the Benin Bronzes and the Parthenon Marbles for example, countries have been calling for repatriation of their items for years, but this is all British, everything they took belongs in that museum, so apart from it being a massive fuck you to us, we don’t know.”

Marcus and his partner are silent as they study the photographs you’ve given them so you decide to keep talking, “All of these items are instantly recognizable too, the second they appear on any market, black or otherwise, we’re going to know about it, so it can’t be about selling it for money either.”

Marcus is nodding in understanding, “It’s not a lot to go on,” he shrugs, turning to Pete, “Do you have the flight number you tracked them on?” Pete nods, slipping a bit of paper across the desk to Marcus, “We’ll have a look at the CCTV on our end and see if we can pick up the trail here, in the meantime, Pete feel free to make yourself at home here, we can get you a desk set up so you can work alongside us,” He turns to you, “I’m assuming as Curator of such a large collection you have work to be doing whilst you’re here too,” His tone is dismissive which has rage pooling inside you, “We’ll call you if we have any news.”

“This case is my number one priority,” You interrupt, “I want to be as closely involved in this as Pete is.”

It’s Marcus’ partner who is speaking now, “With all due respect ma’am, this is a job for law enforcement, these heists can get dicey, and we wouldn’t want you putting yourself in any unnecessary danger when we’re more than capable of handling this ourselves.”

“Please,” You snort, “I was an archaeologist before this, I’ve worked in literal war zones, so don’t talk to me about unnecessary danger,” You stand, noticing that Marcus’ expression softens a little, “I want a daily meeting on the progress of the case starting tomorrow morning so I have something to report back to our board of directors, and I want to be present when you follow any leads out in the field, these items are incredibly fragile so I want to be the only one to handle them when we find them, understood?”

Marcus nods his head, giving into your demands, “We can meet every morning at ten for a progress report if that works?”

You nod and start gathering your belongings, noticing as Lizzie follows suit. Pete is also standing, smoothing out his uniform as he shakes the boys’ hands again, letting them know he’ll walk the two of you out before coming back up to get on with some work.

“I want to know everything Pete,” You say to him when you finally get outside, stress gets the better of you and you’re reaching into your jacket pocket for the packet of cigarettes and the lighter you’d bought at the airport when you’d landed, “I need to know whatever they’re planning – if they leave anything out of those morning briefings I want to know, are we clear?”

You think you might actually scare Pete judging by his expression, “Of course,” He’s stuffing his hands in his pockets as you light the cigarette and take a long drag, “I’ll keep my ears open for anything.”

You check your watch as you take another drag of the cigarette, “I’ve got to get back to the hotel for a check in with Hartwig, you’ve got my phone number,” You direct to Pete, “Anything happens, give me a call.”

He nods in understanding and is taking his leave as quickly as he can, leaving you with Lizzie to wait for a cab.

“I really do hate Americans sometimes,” You mumble, “The biggest theft from a museum, possibly ever, and no sense of haste in them at all.”

“At least he was cute.” She shrugs, and your eyes are going wide, “What? I’m just saying if we’re here for the foreseeable future, it’s nice to have something to look at whilst we’re here.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” You try and say sternly, but chuckle anyway, Lizzie had become a fast friend in the year she’d worked for you, “Is your jetlag killing you as much as mine?” She nods, “I don’t think there’s much left for either of us to do once I’ve caught up with the team back home, so just take it easy for the rest of the day, yeah?”

You ride in a cab together to the hotel, bidding each other goodbye with flimsy plans to meet for dinner if neither of you fell asleep before then. The room you’d been given was huge, king size bed, a bathroom that not only had a full walk-in shower but a bath as well, a desk that you’ve already made into a makeshift workstation, laptop currently plugged in and charging. There was a lovely view out of the window, but it was one you couldn’t fully enjoy, wondering where in this city, if anywhere, your precious artefacts were being kept.

There was a chime from your laptop, signaling someone had joined the video call, so you set yourself up and accept the invite. Within seconds there were three or four squares of your colleagues back in London, and Hartwig Fischer, the museum’s director, who skipped all pleasantries and headed straight into wanting an update.

“We just finished meeting with the Art Crimes division here,” You begin, “We’ve brought them up to speed on what was taken and where Pete and the Met had managed to get to with the investigation, we’re working with two agents who have said their first port of call is to see how far they can trace the gang from the airport here and then take it from there.”

“And I assume you’ve stressed the importance of this collection to them?” Hartwig is speaking now, “It’s imperative we get them found and back where they belong as soon as possible.”

“I did,” You nod, noticing the roll of the eye that your boss, Mark, gives at his question, “We’ll have progress meetings here in D.C. with the team every morning at ten, so I’ll schedule calls with all of you at around four each afternoon your time, but I’m afraid that’s all I have to update on.”

Everyone says a mumbled goodbye and you’re about to close your laptop when an email pings into your inbox from Mark. He’s been a good boss to you since you made the premature switch from archaeological field work to curatorship nearly three years ago, always had your back and had supported your ideas for displays and conservation. As a man who had spent his entire career working up the Museum’s staff structure, you were somewhat of an enigma – archaeologist turned curator, he’d affectionately taken to calling you Jones, after Indiana Jones, which, whilst it had annoyed you at the beginning, was now the best term of endearment you could come to expect from him.

Doing a great job already, Jones. I know you’d rather be here than the States but we’ll hold the fort. Go get em. All best, Mark.

You smile but choose not to reply. Instead, you toe off your shoes and shed your suit jacket before climbing onto the bed. You set an alarm on your phone for an hour from now, hoping that Lizzie would do the same so you could have company for dinner later, before falling into a fitful nap, full of images of your precious antiquities in various states of damage and decay.

When you wake from your nap it’s clear that you’ve slept through the alarm you set. It’s dark outside and you can see through the window that the city outside is lit up. You roll over and check your phone. Three texts from Lizzie who obviously hadn’t been as lucky as you to fall asleep.

Dinner? I didn’t manage to fall asleep.

Taking from your silence you did, I’ll wait.

Okay, I’m starving so I’m going out to hunt for food, speak later.

Then there are two missed calls from a number you don’t recognize. It’s an American number, so you’re dialing back before thinking, just in case you’ve missed an important development in the case. It takes three rings for someone to pick up.

“Agent Pike.”

“Oh, hello, I just woke up and had some missed calls, so I was just checking in.”

You can hear some shuffling on the other end of the phone and then the background noise dissipates, “Sorry, should have known jetlag would have been a killer for you,” You hum in agreement, “Listen, I didn’t upset you earlier, did I?”

What an odd question.

“Marcus, I don’t know you, how could you upset me?”

“I don’t know,” You think you can picture him shrugging on the other end of the line, “Felt like maybe I’d been a bit dismissive of you, if we’re going to work together then I wanted to make sure we’re all good?”

You really did have bigger problems to worry about that didn’t involve making sure Agent Pike thought you hated him, but he was right, if you were going to work together, you needed to be able to trust each other, “We’re all good, don’t worry, I’m just getting a lot of stress from my side.”

“I can imagine,” You hear him sigh a little at the other end of the phone, “Have you eaten?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Have you had dinner?” He asks again, “If you’ve been sleeping then I assume not, I can show you the best twenty-four-hour diner in town if you are hungry?”

You’re about to refuse, wanting instead to order room service and soak in the bath, but then your stomach makes the most unholy noise, and you think that a measly room service portion isn’t going to cut what your body obviously needs.

“Sure, okay,” You reply, “Where shall I meet you?”

“You’re in luck, because it’s just around the corner from your hotel, I’ll meet you in the lobby in an hour.”

“Wait, how do you know where I’m staying?”

“I’m a federal agent, it’s my job to know.”

You’re about to reply when you hear the familiar tone of being hung up on. You hang up yourself, throwing your phone to the bed as your drag yourself into the shower to freshen up. You’d come straight off the plane and to the offices and then back here to promptly fall asleep and you felt gross. You tied your hair up into a knot on the top of your head, deciding that right now, Marcus Pike was not worth washing your hair for, before standing under the hot stream of water for longer than anticipated.

You rush to get ready, throwing on the first thing you can pull from your suitcase, which happens to be a pair of jeans and a flannel shirt that you remember wearing to one of your first excavations. Its threadbare by now and you have to wear a t-shirt underneath it to be semi-decent to go in public, but it’s always been like a comfort blanket to you.

When you exit the elevator and head into the lobby, Marcus is already waiting for you. He’s in the same suit as he had been this morning, clearly coming straight from the office, but he’s left his FBI badge behind thankfully. He stands and greets you with another handshake.

“I hope you’re hungry,” He speaks as he leads you from the hotel, “I think this is my favourite place in all of D.C. to eat.”

The walk to the diner is quiet. Marcus is typing on his phone as you walk, lifting his head only to make sure he’s not going to immediately walk into someone or something. He mutters something about emails piling up and a mumbled apology, but it’s not long before he’s guiding you into a diner on the corner of a street and greeting the waitress on the door by name.

The waitress, who clearly knows Marcus well, is leading you to the very back on the diner and into the last booth they have available. You shimmy into one side and Marcus does the same opposite you. He doesn’t reach for the menu like you do though. If this is his favourite place to eat you can only assume that every person who works here knows exactly what he’s going to get.

Your point is proven when the waitress brings two mugs of coffee, filling his first. You put your hand over yours so she doesn’t pour any in, “Sorry, can I just get a glass of lemonade please?”

She smiles at you and nods, taking your mug away. You watch as Marcus adds creamer to his coffee and an unholy amount of sugar, he must notice your face of disgust because he’s smiling, “What?”

“I just don’t know how you can drink that stuff so late at night,” You shrug, looking down at the menu, “I can’t drink caffeine past three in the afternoon because I’ll be awake all night.”

“Occupational hazard I suppose,” He takes another sip, “Our team works odd hours a lot, art thieves don’t seem to rest much so this keeps me sharp.”

You nod in understanding before turning your attention back to the menu. It’s huge, far bigger than any menu you’d see in London, you’re spoilt for choice, “What do you usually get?” You ask.

“Chocolate chip pancakes,” He grins, “Side of bacon if I’m feeling it.”

You look at your watch, “At nine at night?”

“Don’t tell me breakfast for dinner isn’t a thing across the pond?”

“I mean, I’ve been known to eat a bowl of cereal late, I guess.”

“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”

When the waitress comes back you decide to follow his lead, chocolate chip pancakes and a side of bacon – when in Rome and all of that.

“So, have there been any developments today?” You ask, sipping the lemonade through your straw.

“I’ve got Steven searching the CCTV from the airport, if we can pick them up there then we’ve got a good chance of following them to wherever they might be keeping your artefacts, but it’ll be at least tomorrow morning before we know anything.”

“Is this what you’ve always done?” You’re not great at making conversation with people you don’t know, but the thought of an awkward silence is too much for you to handle right now.

“Pretty much, I worked Art Crimes down in Austin for a while and then transferred to D.C. just over a year ago now,” He’s draining his coffee and motioning for the waitress to top him up, “How about you, you said you were an archaeologist before this, right?”

You nod, “Yeah, worked as a field archaeologist straight out of university, got to travel the world, which was pretty cool, and now I’m confined to the walls of a museum that a lot of people hate these days.”

“Why the change?”

There’s a pause for the waitress who drops two huge plates of pancakes in front of you, you have to admit they look pretty bloody good. Marcus covers his in syrup and passes you the jug, you add your own syrup and dig in.

“Fuck, that’s good.” You can’t help yourself from moaning as you chew on your food.

“I told you they would be good,” He smiles, digging into his own plate, “So, why the change?” He asks again.

You shrug your shoulders, “I had an accident, recovery meant no fieldwork, and I had to pay my rent somehow, so this seemed like the natural jump to make.”

“What kind of accident?”

You look him dead in the eyes, “Pass.”

He’s looking at you whilst eating and you think he might press you, but he relents, “So, London then, always wanted to go, is it as good as everyone says?”

“Probably best not to ask the person that lives there but it’s decent,” You start eating your own food again, “It’s a great city and it’s a lovely place to visit if you enjoy being busy but it can lose its magic when you live there too long.”

There’s a long silence whilst the two of you continue eating and you can’t stop the way your brain thinks back to Lizzie’s observation. You must admit that Marcus is pretty cute. No. You try and tell your brain, we are not doing this here. But it doesn’t relent, tracing the curve of his nose and how his eyes are the colour you like your coffee in the morning; how his plush bottom lip, shiny from the sticky syrup, is just begging to be kissed. No, absolutely not. Just because you’d spent the last however many years focusing on your career and trying not to die and as a result were the loneliest person you’d ever met; didn’t mean we need to start fantasizing about the very cute FBI agent sat across from us.

“You alright there?” Marcus’ voice cuts through your thoughts.

You shake your head to rid yourself of your thoughts, “Yeah, sorry, guess I’m still pretty tired from the flight.”

“Understandable,” You notice he’s finished his food, “You done there?”

Your own plate is half finished but there’s no way you can fit anymore into your stomach, so you nod, he motions for the waitress, who clears everything away and brings your leftover pancakes back in a to-go box for you, along with the bill.

Marcus is reaching for it, but you swat his hand, “What are you doing?” You ask.

“Paying for dinner?” He says defensively.

“Don’t be silly,” You murmur, rooting around in your bag for your wallet, “Company card,” You smile, flashing the card from your bag, “If they’ve got me out here chasing after thieves, the least they can do is pay for our food, right?”

“Remind me to always phone you for dinner then.” Marcus muses, a glint in his eye that has you swallowing deeply.

Paying is relatively painless once Marcus has explained how to properly tip the waitress, still something that confuses the hell out of you, even once he’d shown you how to do it. You’re standing and gathering your bag as he reaches for your to-go box, “Don’t worry, I won’t steal them, I’ll carry them whilst we walk.”

“My hands do work, you know?” You tease, and the way his Adams apple bobs as he swallows at the innuendo isn’t lost on you.

“Just trying to be a gentleman after we got off on the wrong foot earlier.”

“Are you a gentleman for all the women you barely know, or am I special?” You tease, as he holds the diner door open for you and starts on the short walk back to the hotel.

“You might joke but you’re not far wrong.” He’s chuckling but there’s an undercurrent of something else to his voice, maybe frustration, which tells you there is much more to Marcus Pike than might first meet the eye.

It’s another short walk until you’re back in the hotel lobby. Marcus hands you your box of pancakes before he stands awkwardly with you whilst you wait for the elevator to arrive at the ground floor.

“Well, thanks for showing me the best place to eat when I inevitably forget to do that during the day,” You smile, a genuine one this time, “Hopefully you’ve got some more places to recommend?”

“You have no idea how long that list is,” He’s got his hands stuffed into his pockets and he’s rocking back and forth on his heels, his nervous habit, you observe, “Maybe if you’re not busy with meetings tomorrow I can show you the best Italian place?”

Just like you were earlier, you go to open your mouth and decline when you stop. Sure, he’s supposed to be a professional colleague, and an Italian restaurant is a far cry from the diner on the corner, but what would you be doing otherwise? Room service and an overpriced glass of wine followed by no other option that sorting through all your emails. Just because you were here on important business didn’t mean that you couldn’t enjoy D.C. whilst you did it, and was it so bad if that came with the company of your lead agent who just so happened to make your knees a little weak?

“Do they have tiramisu and good white wine?” You asked as the elevator door opens, Marcus walks forward with you, putting his hand across the divide so it doesn’t shut prematurely.

“The best outside of Italy,” He claims, “Not that I’ve ever been, that’s just what the menu says.”

You laugh, “It’s a date then.”

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